Golden

Between the silence of a waking dawn

thoughts wrestle their way from sleep softened places

the golden place where dreams leave off

and life begins anew.

Gentle rays find weary eyes that search

the distance for an answer

created so very long ago

the when’s and whys of yesterday

we set aside in a quiet space

knowing that in this moment

this is all that matters now.

Silver spun images greet a soul needy

for the whisper of an ease into the day

and we stand just being

inhaling each moment that finds us,

living this one created miracle in space

where we reside as a part of

the masterpiece.

Gorgeous image taken by a friend Tracy Stiles

Lyrics to my life #4

“A beautiful bunch o’ ripe banana
Daylight come and me wan’ go home
Hide the deadly black tarantula
Daylight come and me wan’ go home”

Harry Belafonte-

100_1831.jpg100_1833.jpg100_1836.jpg100_1835.jpg100_1832.jpgYeah baby, the harvest is upon us. The Poetry Channel has requested banana bread to be sent….54 bananas people, 54…..Wow…..I see smoothies in the future, and banana splits, and does anyone have a pet monkey? A little too hot for baking Michael….heavy bunch too. Next tree won’t be ready to be harvested for about 2 more months or so….I think I may hate bananas by then….but now Harry is singing in my brain and won’t go away…..

A plentiful bounty indeed. We are blessed.

Welcome fury

We stand between the silence analyzing the thoughts that move

fluid like currents below the waters,

we can feel the tug, the motion

yet pull back for fear of going to far

to where no return would seem safe

and the sun beyond the thought beckons

in a world where the skies lie gentle in blue hues

soft as a baby blanket

and I turn around yet sense below it all

the movement heard

as the trees bend and rock

and the sound that had moved from silence

now crushes in a fury of sound and motion

like an unexpected visitor

as the rain comes rushing down

welcomed to alleviate the routine

knocking at the door with abandon

we open the shutters to see the fury unleashed.

Minutes pass like the dry patches that now lay soaked

quick as that, flash flood pouring down from above

the metal sags beneath the weight,

miniature rivers run through sand and green

into the corner of the jungle land

and just as suddenly as it had come

it slips away as if it was never there

except for the chorus of the frogs

always gleeful when the water beckons

they emerge and wage a battle hymn

with cicada harmony joining in

and I smile as I realize the little things

that take my mind away from the depths

and I swim on the surface

of another magical moment.

Yesterday was quite the interesting day, as the husband comes walking in I think I hear wind and ask him how bad it is out as he replies, not windy at all, and I turn around a moment later to see this wicked cool storm sending the trees waving in all different directions and the unfilled skies opened up with what seemed like a waterfall that splashed down like a bucketful thrown in fun. Just as fast as it came, it slipped away. The bananas (which are almost done) will be happy. Bonus was the second bunch on another tree which I didn’t even know about in the back corner. Going to be a banana bonanza soon. On another subject, once again, my comments are not sticking on some blogs that I follow. Check your word press spam folder and you can find me there. Sigh…..Tropical season is interesting to say the least🙂 Peace and rainy days can be fun.

Lyrics to my life #3

“Does it feel that your life’s become a catastrophe?
Oh, it has to be for you to grow , boy.
When you look through the years and see what you could have been
oh, what you might have been,
If you’d had more time.”
Take the long way home-Supertramp

I sat in the window watching in the darkness as the party next door went full throttle. The loud music filled the humid summer air, and this album in particular played, which had always been a favorite, as this song came on and the tears fell, I knew I wasn’t a part of it, I was alone as my what “had been” best friend(nad neighbor) hung with her new clique and I sat like a sodden wallflower on the sidelines, unwanted….I made a vow I would never feel that way again. Time was fleeting and it was not worth the expenditure of tears. The lyrics clung to me through life, remembering the good times sitting on the floor as the shiny new vinyl spun round, singing along to the thin paper words that sleeved the plastic disc.
I look back now in hindsight, recalling how as teenagers, it was such a heartless and cruel world, but as an adult, I have found the path to peace and forgiveness…taking the long way home perhaps but not letting the time slip by without a lesson. Stronger yet still adore this song….and still sing it at the top of my lungs in the car…no tears, just the joy of following the road where it leads. Peace and blessings, enjoy my friends. Kim

Always Fair

We moved through vistas of noise and color

as illusion played out its spectacle

through light and scent,

walking through a maze of yesterday

memory plays its timely tricks

seeking out of solace our imagined perception

of what was and is now not.

Yearly tradition like familiar dreams

grab us eagerly like children

dragging us into the good times left behind

and we look back as we grow dark and grey,

missing those fast paced colorful moments

wondering if our life left us

as the train pulled out-of-town

destination bound to the next stop

somewhere East

where the sun would greet a new day

and a new band of children eager

to make memories.

We won the prizes through sweat and tears

as fists full of dollars flowed like water in goldfish tanks

and I-Got it balls bounced aimlessly down the midway,

a lost red orb kicked off to the side unseen

by passers-by.

I know the scent of my youth

for I have lived it each year of my 49,

until now not having missed a piece

and I look back and know it’s okay

’cause the train took me into that sun

where I knew the colors I needed were a turquoise sea

and a sky that is unmatched.

I rode the ride of a wave,

unchecked and not tethered in for fear

as I smelled the scent of salted air,

so sweet like caramel to me,

and this land a piece of history

more for circus than for fair

but it is where I chose,

it is where I meet the fair of my dreams

in sleep it comes to me,

the precious memories

never left behind like empty lots

where the magic happened,

but where the sounds rise up to meet

a thousand bits of color

in the stars that now teach me of quiet

and peace

and no need for the thrill

of yesterday now gone.

This image was taken at the Erie County Fair, photographer unknown. I spent at least a day if not more every year for all of my life, inhaling the aromas of sausage and peppers/onions, fried dough, caramel corn, roasted corn….the list is endless, although I always had to have my piece of Louies pizza….as if you couldn’t get pizza everyday from anywhere…it was just a tradition, a staple of my experiences there. With moving to Florida, I missed it this year and I’m okay with that….there’s always next year….but I wouldn’t trade a day there for the afternoon storm clouds, the lightning storms, and the stunningly gorgeous blue green water of the gulf. To me, the trade-off is, lets just say, Fair.

Holiday

I love the flow, almost static like and I hope you enjoy it. Please click on the original to comment on this lovely piece.

ink in sky

The cottage was long, settled in the grass with a pleasant grunt
Everything fit
The whole world compressed
And gently shaped
We spent a summer there My room was mint green with rocks everywhere And a mirror in a green frame encrusted with cheap, faded rhinestones. My bed was near the window with copper rocks on the white sill dull hay lines running through their sides And the ceiling sloped down towards the other night The living room was downstairs with big windows looking out to glowing tin roof sea The kitchen cupboards were full of labelled jars We loved cinnamon so much the whole cottage smelt of it No one could decide if the smell was sweet or savoury We weighed everything down with sun warmed rocks That's what rocks are for. Books, paper, plates, doors, and folded up clothes. The books in the house were all unknown thrillers…

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Lyrics of my life #2

“But perhaps the dream
Is dreaming us
Soaring with the seagulls
Perhaps the dream
Is dreaming us
Astride the backs of eagles”

When the angels fall -Sting

If I had a dollar for every time I listened to the album The Soul Cages by Sting, I would be rich indeed. I’ve always been moved by tragic/melancholy/tear your heart out by its roots music but it charges me up in a way, gets the creative juices flowing so to speak and for that, I will keep on listening to what inspires. I watched as it won for album of the year and  at the time wasn’t even familiar with it or any of its songs, but if it won, it must have been good so I trekked down to the local music store and bought it. Never regretted that decision and it’s still a main staple to this day. I chose the image because as a new college student, I found the best writing I did was when spending time amongst the ghosts of the dead in cemeteries. I remember having my headphones on one particular sunny spring day, my black mohawk falling over my eyes as I concocted stories for a class about a boy named Alec. I was listening to Barbara Streisand singing how there was a place for us (Somewhere?) and the instruments building in sound as the cicadas hummed filled my heart with such a joy. I knew at that point that this was what I wanted to do, this is what filled me, writing in peace with a passion. I only wish this album had been out then…but then again, I could be working in a shipyard building boats instead. I didn’t use Barbara  here….no judgements needed…all music is good🙂 Peace and love my friends, welcome to my world of what inspires.

Man of motion (Gordon Downie)

Between the spaces where the dust settles,
Where words of a poet come to rest
and screams of effect of a tragic goodbye,
tiredness of soul rest
and glittered nights will be set for life,
it’s in these places the voice ignites
and says it’s goodbyes in the evening light
together, tears are shed before it’s done
as we remember the days as if they’ve just begun.
The whimsical remembered stories told
in our minds they seep
forever to enthrall
and we speak your name with reverance there
with caps and courage and grace brought forth
a “live well” as the light goes out
not just another but one of us
from youth to now we still hear the voice
on cold wind blown Canadien nights
what poets words do stir the mind
for tonight until the end of time
oh sir you gave a young girl thoughts
on forbidden dark lit concert nights
as we danced until the morning came
and as we slept many whispered your name
as we shall do until the end of days
in rememberance of that summer haze
when music was all that made us alive
thank you sir from the Florida skies
and wishing I had been there to see
the final moments
sharing in the shedding of tears
as you climb the stairs that await us all
I hope you know
you were the white shirt singer of a teenaged soul
who inspired a child in lonely days
in the poets mind
you took your time
you did it right
the final chords,
a shining light.

I am so blessed with having seen my favorite Canadian band The Tragically Hip twice in my life, yesterday was the showing on CBC music of the final concert, heartfelt bits and pieces are all I’ve been able to pull up, as the lead singer Gord Downie battles an inoperable brain tumor, such courage, love and showmanship was what I am now left with, and such sweet memories of teenage nights at a concert up in Canada….no I can’t say much…but it was Amazing…I will leave it at that. God bless you Gord, a poet who still inspires….Singing fifty mission cap….and Boots and Hearts of course.đź’śđź’• Thank you for your gift of music and words đź’•đź’ś Glad I had the chance to witness the beginnings of goodbye.

Questions of time

She simply said no day can end complete without

making an enemy

with a smile on her lips,

I watched not quite understanding

why or how that could indeed be

a good thing.

When time is not an abundant commodity

can not be bought or sold

what good can come

of such darkness or is it perhaps

just my perspective

and am I blind somehow

but I do not think it’s that at all

and there can be no joy found

in adding ire to another

as their time is valuable,

as are the opinions of each soul

if only to that soul who seeks not change,

so I choose instead

moving forward as the sand trickles down

for each grain left

to spend it in kindness

leaving friends instead of enemies,

creating bonds instead of cutting cords

and of rising above and embracing the choices made

as others see fit,

but I can’t stand idly by

as the storm brews

so I slip into the wind

free and at peace

unengaged,

leaving prints of a heart

that still believes in something good.

Rising high

Imagine the wind
thoughts move like the softest of feathers
rising higher beyond the
not good enough,
not right for,
not strong enough,
not for me,
the soul she speaks in dreams
higher and higher into the light
glancing off of the shimmering sky of power
igniting into motion
the I can
and the I will
and the watch me now
as the lift begins
invisible courage currents buoy
and beyond the cage,
the box,
the strings that tied her to false imagined thought
set free into the universe of
here she goes,
she did it,
watch her now,
to see that through the oasis of mirage
the secret became the truth
that she was made for all of those things denied
by her own inner self
she rises
she soars
never looking back.

To the strength and resiliency of those who never think they could, until they do, and to those yet to try an encouraging word of Yes, you can. Peace and love, K