SEEDLINGS  by Susan Mehr


Melding of colours
illuminates horizon,
I peer at with awe.

Racing rays of light,
cracking through the darken sky,
moon and stars no more.

A little tickle,
stimulating existence,
Awakens the soul.

Not the first to bloom.
Uncertain, what do I do?
Finding strength alone.

Hope inspires dreams,
to finally awaken,
never forsaken.

So impossible,
I’ll always fight for one’s dreams,
then stretch out my wings.

Breeze tempts I let go.
Trust in the Almighty’s hand
venture on my own.


Seeds swirl in the breeze.
Tossed with leaves to unknown lands
to find a new home

Fertile soil waits,
soften with drizzles of rain,
seedlings nursery

Now I lay to sleep,
fingers emerge setting roots
living life I should.

Sprouting baby leaves,
a beautiful natures green,
Sun touches with warmth.

I reach, touch the sky
grow healthier than before.
Humble I stand tall.

In the mists, I dwell.
Shrubs of all kind carpets earth
Sunlit paradise.

Winds scurry around
and dance like never before.
Waves ripple with force.

Blossoming flowers.
A bud is about to form.
My sepals cradles.

First sepals open.
Seeds with fairy wings emerge.
Like fluffy white fur.

How happy I am,
to see the sun on their face.
It’s the little things.

Winds tickle my babes,
to awaken, but this time,
I farewell with love.

Far off lands, they fly.
Beginning life’s adventures.
Confidence overflows.

Colours keep melding.
Horizon illuminates,
still my breath it takes.




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FRIENDSHIP  by Susan Mehr


The smell of freshly baked croissants, the hum of voices and the clicking of heels on the cobblestone street echo as I make my way to the Rue de Promenade. My first day in Paris. Life is great, and I’m free as a bird painting the sky with my wings. I’m truly flying. A melody plays in my head, ‘La vie en rose’, and I can’t help hum the chorus. The Eiffel tower peers from above the buildings and I sigh, then my tummy reminds me it’s breakfast. I peer into the paper bag I’m holding, inside six mini croissants, I couldn’t help myself. Yum. My fingers reach and squish at the buttery pastry, pulling apart a piece and popping it into my mouth. My first taste of Paris.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle,” a deep manly voice sings from across the promenade and continues to speak in French.

I turn. Is he speaking to me? I turn again; there is no one behind me. He must be.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle,” he repeats.

I glance back and smile. “Bonjour.”

“You are not from Paris? Oui!”

“Wee, yes,”

“Ah, no one is perfect,” he replies, his face sparkles with happiness. I take a few steps forward. He is sitting in a wheelchair with a sketchbook on his lap. An elderly man yet his aura exudes is of a young soul. His eyes, crystal blue, and in a friendly way studying every inch of me.

He taps his finger to his chin. “Tourist? No. Artist? Oui. Dancer? Musician? No. Artist, Poet?” His continued stare reads my mind. “Oui.”

My smile etches deeper. “Wee. Is it the beret? It’s too much?” I reply, failing to sound French. “Sorry, my French is not so good.”

“No,” he replies pointing at the tote bag concealing my sketchbook and pencils hanging from my shoulder. “No, the beret, is your signature. Classic. Please, take a seat on the park bench next to me. You will be busking, too? Oui.”

“Wee. Well, I will try. A croissant?” I offer and hold out the paper bag of croissants.

“Je Vous remercie, thank you. You are early and that is good. We’re seated in a good position; the tourists start here. We’re in the line of traffic, and it’s going to be a beautiful day. A good busking day.”

He reaches into the bag and takes a croissant as I sit next to him on the park bench. His smile is infectious, and I smile back.

“Délicieux. Mon nom est Pierre. Name Pierre.”

“Lilly,” I answer, pulling out my sketchbook from my tote bag. I lay it on my lap and fold over the first page.

He peers over my shoulder, “Ah, your first portrait I see, but it isn’t finished.”

“Wee finished,” I reply, staring back into those crystal blue eyes. His expression confused.

“Your portrait has no eyes, nose or mouth, oui!”

“Wee. This is a portrait of my true friend. I’ve never looked her in the eyes or upon her face. I don’t know the colour of her eyes. I have never heard her voice, speak her words of wisdom and encouragement, but I feel her presence and her words linger in my mind. I’ve no idea of her appearance, so I can’t draw her eyes or mouth. I can’t sketch her portrait; I can only paint her portrait with words. I wrote a sonnet; do you wish to read?”

He lies back in his chair and sighs, “Ah, I cannot read. No one is perfect. Mademoiselle, please can you read it for me?

“Wee,” His eyes still sparkle and waits for me to begin.

A True Friend.

In my dreams a star gaze, upon me,
glistering brightness of old satin sheen.
A humble person, supports, devotee,
mysterious, faceless, Evangeline.
Within my empty heart she finds her place,
and her unheard voice echoes in my mind.
Continuously I’m in her embrace,
Inspires confidence of her design.
Though we’ve never met, never tried to hide,
A friendship so true, valued and golden.
Miles away your shadow still falls with pride,
promise happiness, a bond unbroken.
Reminding, to be proud of who you are,
True Friend, Rare Person, unselfish Bright Star.


Dedicated to a True Friend Petru Viljoen.






Beautiful by Susan Mehr

Keep a secret? Nicole is human, a woman and obese. Nicole wasn’t born obese. Still, cannot remember a moment in her life she considered herself slim. Dieting every day, Nicole failed. There’s a million ways she betrayed herself and paid the price. The consequences of her actions were emotional, physical and psychological. She wasn’t the pretty little girl her parents dreamed and wanted to display. Nicole was tossed aside, neglected and in the end forgotten. Besides she had two younger siblings who occupied their parent’s time.

Growing up, Nicole became a target. She did not live up to people’s standards to what is acceptable, so she became prey to abuse, taunts and belittling. People laughed and gossiped as if she wasn’t there. No one cared. In the end, worthless did not begin to describe how she felt.

Nicole grew up in a ‘survival mode’ struggling through each day, without crying. Imagine the loveless, emptiness echoing inside a little girl of five, ten or fifteen. That was Nicole. Trust me happiness, friendship, hope and the gentle touch of love never existed. Life was a horrible dream. No one cared. If someone did, Nicole should’ve been rescued or at the least hugged and told she was loved.

Nicole lived in a lonely place with no loving family and no real friends. Then in her thirties, she met a man who saw past her shell and the real person she was. He recognised beauty. Still, she refused to allow herself to accept the truth. They had their reasons to keep their relationship a secret, despite that, Nicole didn’t want him to witness anyone laugh, mock or destroy the beautiful friendship they created. After a few years, they eloped and started a family.

Now Nicole faces the responsibility of being a role model to her children. She spent most of her life alone; it was all she knew. A role model didn’t make sense, didn’t resonate in her heart at first, but the voice inside her head kept nagging and finally started to make sense. You see, Nicole decided to have an operation to lose weight so she can take control of her life. It’s the first time she possessed a positive outlook. She’s human and deserves to be happy. Nicole no longer considers herself the candle in the wind. Nicole is loved, unconditionally by her children and her new family. Realising there’s people who care, who listen and who she matters too. Now, not only does she want to become a role model, Nicole believes telling her story brings awareness to larger issues and an important message for someone who is looking for hope. She wants to do, to someone, what no one did for her. She wants to send a message of hope and tell them that someone is watching, listening, caring. Nicole’s message is, ‘Believe in yourself, you have so much worth, and there’s a life waiting for you to live too. You’re never alone, and always remember, you’re beautiful.’


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Hope by Susan Mehr

“New futures await us in the stars.” Sam’s whispers fill my ear. Behind me he stands slipping his arms around my waist drawing me against him. His lips press against my cheek and in that moment, I enjoy a man who understands the value of a gentle caress and soft-spoken words.

“I’m not afraid,” I reply. Swallowing the air in my throat, I know Sam’s mind feels my thoughts.

“Don’t be scared. You’ll wake up every single day, only knowing peace. Fear, will no longer exist and new things will start to happen for us.”

Raindrops hit my cheeks or are they tears? “Does it rain on your home planet? Does the Moon shine as it does on Earth?” Fighting the fear, I watch the space pod descend and flicker in the night sky.

“There’s three Moons actually. It rains the purest water you will ever taste. We’ll breathe the cleanest air,” Sam pauses, taking a deep breath. “I’ve waited so long to return home. I never imagined I’d be taking you.”

I turn in his arms. A nervous excitement fills his eyes and where the fire of life seemed extinguished, now flashes with brilliant light.

“It’s a place where all living beings and nature coexist in harmony. There is no war, no poverty and no disease; this new world is factual. Our mortality will extend ten folds maybe more. It’s twenty nineteen and as horrible as it seems the present Earth is a sick hell. Not only is this planet dying with a disregard of natural resources and pollution, but humans also continue to segregate fellow humans by race, the colour of their skin, by country, religion and the list continues. There are world leaders wasting time building walls. Whether or not they build walls, psychological walls remain well established. Humans cannot find peace with their differences how can they find peace with us, hybrids.” Sam said, his face now clouds with sadness.

My brow furrows with concern. “There’re individuals on Earth who care, who believe there’s a better life and can coexist. Sam, there’re men, women, children, and babies dying, and we do nothing? Why can’t we help them?”

“Pete, I love you, but I alone can’t save your planet. It’s not what I or we should do, it’s the fate of Earth’s humanity, they must show the universe’s Elan Vital they want to change, they must unify, or they will die. You and for those who helped us, we offer asylum.”

I look away, trying to find the courage to accept the truth which leaves Sam’s mouth. “I’ll never see Earth again!”

“Never say never. Now isn’t the time. I want you to see how we live, the importance of freedom and peace. I hope one day we’ll return with a purpose to show humanity how great the Earth could be. Now is our time, it’s a special time for us. We can no longer hide in the desert within Arnhem Land. It’s not safe for you and me and…” Sam’s smile etches deeper as his palm gently rubs my belly.