Lost in moments (free flow poetry)

Air heavy hanging
Suffocation of thoughts
as the music plays intermittent,
not sure where the flow is
only knowing
gotta go with the tune
playing his song
softly with inflection like a silent drum beat
cause the day is gone
as are you
tap tap tap goes the tympanii
and I don’t remember when the final concerto played
only that you aren’t here to hear
your heartbeat song
and I make no apologies
for you know me
know how it goes,
this rhythm
the beat in the silent night
we are harmony
the sky and moon
singing to those no longer a part
reasons and purposes,
as the air hangs heavy like a heart
beyond repair of the moment
I scream in the ebb
as silence catches me unaware
drowning in humidity heavy,
of a life remembered
I long to show you
as I sit here
scribbles on a vacant wall
will anyone remember with dawns light
the plight
of a poet in the shadows,
will anyone remember the name
of the girl undone,
unchained?
I sit here on the post
stoic and strong regardless
as days light passes
I rise
with the head on cotton pillows
comforted in dreams
and the thought of making it through
like hummingbirds and memories
they always rise to the surface
and a memory is just that,
a yesterday moment caught in the rearview,
disregarded as best we can,
slipping down into the horizon that awaits,
knowing it’s gonna be okay,
our sweet being
makes it that way
regardless of our wishes.

Soothing

We feel the edge of reason
surfacing like boiling pots
waiting to spill over,
forgetting to breathe
we gasp
reaching the surface for peace
and the air to sustain,
deeper we climb into the color of mood
breaking free of darkness
we carry ourselves towards light,
breaking what seems still water
knowing the current so dangerous below,
floating forward
we scan the horizon for hope
found in a passing cloud.
Helplessness is such a strange bird
flying high to teach us
that which we momentarily forget
like lessons in old school books
years after we’ve escaped
the bondage of our cages
as we see through bars that lay non existent
yet for our minds we can almost feel them there
before us, so structured and unyielding
we slip through when least expected
and soaring we catch a glimpse of
a yesterday soul
yet just us a moment ago,
in the realm of time
one slip into the ripple
we shake ourselves dry
and begin once more
to fly.

Thoughts from earlier today when being mentally held hostage by the internet, trying to watch a live feed of my nephews graduation, capturing only the barest snippets, feeling sad, angry and let down….breathing to clear the emotion and accepting what I have no control over….finding myself in a much more calm place, knowing that someone would repost it later (I pray) and that I can feel for but a short space of time, that I am there with those I love and miss on this momentous day. Congratulations Jordan, I am so proud of you and hearing a few words from your two buddies, I know you’re flying high today.

Scooping dreams

Different from others

nestled amongst the large and small

from where you came we know not

only that your words give thought

with each time you move into the corners

like smooth motioned gathering

cradled gently in your hold

no sharp edges to be found

in the daydreamers reverie.

Mixed images with a heart of love

you stir the soul bringing from the depths

like the cream of goodness rising to the top,

moving in and around

folding into each memory a pinch of sweetness

to be remembered

like a spoon full of love overflowing

with the shine and sparkle of a new day rich

and we lift you with a smile

tucking you in our hands and hearts

sharing the masterpiece

of a delicate creation

made with joy,

the taste of a treasure

flavored with love.

This began with the act of drying dishes and finding one spoon that we got from somewhere, not matching the rest but large and easy to use for making everything, in this case, dough for my husbands bagels….he does make great bagels and I look forward tomorrow to breakfast….stirred with love ❤ and handcrafted by the master chef of my life ❤

Phantom mirage

We can not always see

that which may be before us

caught in the shadow of a moments that slips

into itself and then into the hour full,

we weave a million thoughts in a heartbeat

like dreams remembered upon waking,

hazy recollections of this and that,

strange sensations of being there yet not

caught in the vortex of a mind so tired

we slip into ourselves like a well worn shoe,

feeling the imprint of where we’ve been

yet sensing where it is we are traveling to,

when we slip into the scene

we become the phantom mirage

poised on the verge of becoming

clearer with each passing smile and word,

understanding more than we can express

as we move through the jungles of this space

we gather our cloak about us,

our wistful shadow that always follows

wrapped around like the softest hug

we take those steps into the mirror of time

and hear the silence of a heartbeat so strong.

Beautiful photo by: Gerry van der Walt

Level being

Each day moving through

we traipse up and down through levels of thought

drifting at times like a silky calm

gracing our minds like a sweetly whispered word.

Levels of beauty and hues that give pause

we find ourselves stopping at times to watch

the transpiring of days

that we are immersed in

and at times feeling so removed,

find that it doesn’t take very much

to flow into that place within

as we silently give thanks and close our eyes,

breathing in the likeness of tranquility

we exhale the clouds of storms

setting them free

and thus finding ourselves

exactly where it is we need to be.

I gaze at ideas like dreams in my head,

stepping up each one to reach higher

like stairs that move in the right direction

as I feel in my soul this path has become so right,

exploring the wonder of the delicacies of each second

and with the gathering of time like flowers

not wasting a moment of inspiration

on that which mires like quicksand,

rising into the being of the soul set free

and phantom like as it drifts through

touching each piece gently with light

spanning the surface with perfection.

Splendor of skies

How can we not love the rain,

wet, damp, coming at awkward moments

as we rush to and fro

living our everyday lives

with no time for this shower

drops the size of dimes splashing down

we shelter ourselves as best we can

beneath inadequate umbrellas and eaves

as it soaks through cotton

we sigh and glance up to see,

how far and how long

till we can make that break

to a better place.

In the distance the glow surfaces,

the end of the storm on hand

and we smile for we know

that even though it was just an inconvenience,

better things wait round the corner,

as the grey moves off and the humidity rises

with the evening sunset poised to take flight

into the far side of the earth,

we gaze above to find the splendor that waits,

and we watch with gleeful smiles

blessed to have witnessed this view

and to capture just a bit

to prove it was no mirage

but a color slide into our hearts

bringing peace with its being.

Photo taken this past week above our home. Rain daily but with a gift like this, who can really complain?

Building blocks

We exist in this space,

a vast expanse of that which is seen

yet strangely what most matters is that

which is never seen,

only imagined.

We come together through words,

song and music and the beauty of arts

bringing change through an idea,

another of the unseen yet still lingering there

somewhere on the space of the edge of reason,

we move forward driven

and not knowing why

we jump into the abyss of the unknown to find

that which we know we cannot touch

until we come before

like bubbling skies of clouds

somewhere within there may be

flashes of light and water waiting

for the right moment

as the winds come together in unison

a perfect moment is reached

and a storm is born to quench

parched souls and soil,

we dance below the indigo sight

becoming one with that which we are

nature and the undeniable self-created

a moment which is here then gone,

unlike any other that has been nor will be,

building blocks of the universe and dreams

collide with abandon

with spirit and everything that is.

“Dreams are the seeds of change. Nothing ever grows without a seed, and nothing ever changes without a dream.”  Debby Boone

What may come

Searching through
histories of ourselves
raw and unedited
with the soundtrack
to die for.
He’s been gone so long
yet still so close
like a hangnail festering
alive like a pain to the soul
reminding
still here
after all.
Damn, to see that face still can
make me feel
and cry as I wonder
where would he be
if he had not given it all
and lost it all
and left us behind
like a faded street sign wondering
which way do we go
now?
As I’m standing here on the ground
skies always waiting in the sidelines
to all fall down,
but to look at you
in reckless moments
always sparks the fire…
the soul calls for change
while the heart says don’t….
some feet under don’t make anything in the mix
‘cept tears for yesterday,
as we wipe them away and wonder
where does the time go…
where will we go when all is said and done,
and though were not so very young
and oh so pretty,
what a pity to dwell in these pages
songs and lyrics
and voices of yesterday
that still haunt from the depths
of disillusion.
And so we dream on,
Beginning with a word we should not
per the rule books
but what do they mean
if nothing at all
in the grand scheme of things,
for love is what I say,
and by my side
in rooms of faces
we will be ourselves,
clouded images of a history
a before you and me
a collage
of a dream through images
perpetually and always
meant to be.

Watching old INSX videos and reliving my younger years….poor Michael Hutchensce and songs that were a integral part of my consciousness…..Don’t Change, To Look at you, etc….coming up on my birthday and feeling and reeling in the years….The one thing, etc…..yep, still going there….and everywhere💕💜

Going about it

The business of just being

finding themselves moving about this life,

two souls hobnobbing about with royalty,

going about it in their own way,

in search of the shine of a better day.

Silly things really, stowed away

almost unseen like the lizard on a car

and a license of integrity,

did she see in the rearview the passenger

catching a breeze on a hot day,

jumping to a new destination

free ride on the by-way,

perhaps a thumb out as if to say,

hey babe, heading my way?

Turning and moving away from the path

small dot still remains heading home,

and its never as great as the fish that almost got away

before taking a nose dive into the boat

trying so hard to escape

but alas, not your time yet

a bit too small to be part of the haul

so back you go to the locker

and the hook plunges in

tempting heads to entice the supper

waiting at the bottom

as the rain waits to fall

this surreal world comes to call

and I write the fodder of a passing day

rightly ended with a splash of color over head

the skies jumbo slide hangs

and I wonder where the pot at the end

waits and for whom,

if not the dreamer and the images cast

leaving a new thought behind

to an imagination fertile

with wondrous things.

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Thoughts on yesterday again at the Dali museum, and how coming home, a lizard was riding on a womans back windshield, out of the wind as he didn’t go flying off, her license plate said integrty….I would think if she knew, she’d pull over and let the little chap off. The evening ending with a huge rainbow over our house which will be a photo for a post in the future….the fountain of youth outside Dali museum, I was laughing at the hubby, telling him it must be broken when I touched the spigot, water came rushing out and literally scared the bejesus out of me, I jumped like a scalded cat but had a good laugh, I guess that’s what will keep us young. Imagination and fun…my kind of life 🙂 The fish tale (a mermaid perhaps) is coming out of the Rolls Royce that sported the two snails on the front. The inside of the car has water running down like a reverse fountain, with the tale how we try to escape the rain by rushing into our car or home, yet here the rain is within. Very cool to see 🙂

 

A morning with Salvador

We wander the walls intent on seeking

the measure of the mind of madness,

oils on canvas watch us watching them

the brush strokes of genius

as baskets of bread long to be touched

to feel the harsh crust

and smooth out the napkins below.

Walls of color fill the senses

with awe and wonder of the man

from a child to death we move through your life

corridors rich with your gifted touch,

haunted in a sense with a wink and a twirl

of the stache that wove the face,

that became the artist’s image

even when no longer present.

Swirling pieces blow the mind

as collages draw us in deeper to find

the whimsy and imagination of a mind

inspired to change,

to create the masterpiece

as time melted on tables

and angels came near,

you look over your shoulder as if to say,

come, stay awhile and see

what dreams can create

and the hand that drew the world

as only he could.

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“Surrealism is destructive, but it destroys only what it considers to be shackles limiting our vision” Salvador Dali

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Spent the afternoon at the Salvador Dali Museum in Saint Petersburg. What an amazing collection and fascinating man and artist. Simply in awe. WOW! All photos taken by me…sorry for some blurriness….a busy place.