Layered lives

One upon one upon one
Varying hues to highlight
the wild side that lies somewhere in between
unseen in itself
but reflected when mixed
in just the right ways.
We move through days like tigers in fields,
searching for the next quarry,
knowing not what may lay in wait
to hinder the ease of the everyday,
subtle shades of passing days,
beneath the fullest moon of pinkish hues
we wait for the darkness to hide,
to become one wih the part we know so well,
to unite and be whole in and of our soul.
Still the trees will rise up to mark the passing sun,
the dial set to what will become,
ticking away like these thoughts that move
in their precision we are caught up
in the watching of what is,
knowing what will be as we sit idly by,
lost in the reverie of everything and nothing,
trapped in the cages built by the same hands that prison
we search blindly for keys
that sit just out of reach
fooled by the moon and her beauteous glow,
caught up still in what we know,
and what we choose to disregard.
So we climb higher looking still
and seeing the vastness of what lay before,
we wonder how to fly,
yet never daring to attempt to try,
fearful from each day that led us here,
we sit and watch
and then we gaze some more
baffled by this life,
never seeing the true reflection
from the layers we’ve added
and gathered
and buried
and what was is now foreign and new
confusing us by the coating
of spots instead of stripes,
torn apart by the clever
we gaze up above
wondering what
exactly
has happened.
Thoughts on a very long day, the full moon, the writings from others who touch us just so, and the hope with each day that comes, will bring the peace of answers we seek. All good my friends, tired and awaiting the moon filled sky….perhaps to tell me why? Why what? you may ask? With a smile she says, darned if I know😊💜🙏🏻☮

Silver lined

Days filled to overflowing

ocean water blue-green cascading around my legs

cool wetness soothing the spirit

just being at one.

Waiting in line noticing the color

pastries lined on silver trays

as the old man ahead decides

wearily leaning on the worn cane

hands thick with worn veins

confusion in his lost blue eyes

she orders for his decision cannot be made

in a timely pace she moves him aside

cast off like a sinking ship

his eyes look down as he shuffles away.

I wonder then, staring at the hues of bread,

when was it last that he felt the ocean

caress his weary soul,

and does he dream of silver lined clouds

his youth so far away

and I know I too shall someday pass into the space

where he resides in slow motion,

and I exit through glass to see the gathering clouds,

gently waiting in a blue sky,

and I know there must be a silver lined thought

waiting there for me to reach

to grasp it firm and hang on,

to fly in the atmosphere of the young,

to remember the importance

before it fades to grey.

I’ve been practicing my artwork again and a friend requested to see a bit of what I’ve been dabbling in. The clouds are with my new indigo waterpaint and the collection below if a little of what we’ve been working on in class……and miles to go before I am any good, but damn, so glad I am blessed to see the colors, not only in the paints but in this life. Spent the morning in the ocean, walking for an hour with hubby and collecting more sharks teeth and “just being”, it had been far too long and the ocean was calm and I am in a good space. Peace and love, K

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Indigo

Mixed hues of indigo

pulling forth from the dampness,

the simmering clouds

of a gathering storm,

mind twists with winds of time

triumphant in the learnings

of letting go of needing it all.

Left the few behind like shooting stars,

too fast to keep up the speed

stopping beneath the swaying branches

of a thought that sought peace.

New colors and voices of the invisible

standing, waiting for the beginning once more,

taking the stage at intermission

to slip in and stand in the light

for just a quick second and take a bow

to those still seated,

not ready for the end of the act

but knowing there was always more to come.

Universe changes the known

into the new and unexplored moments

we find ourselves a part of like a grand surprise,

flowing into the life that has become

the flavor of the day

on indigo backdrop we spatter the words like glistening stars,

waiting for the sign

that we are heard.

I wish to thank you my friends for your patience lately while I’ve become quite caught up in the whirlwinds of life, friends in to visit for a week, work kicking up the schedule with more hours and trying to work in practice on the watercolors for the next class. A new color purchased, indigo, I am in love with its shades and what I can create with a sky. I miss you all, am playing a bit of catchup, but you are never far from my thoughts ❤ with love and blessings and as always, thanks for sticking around. Kim

Fluid by nature

Caught in the drifting flow

melting moons of a mind moving

once more and again our nature

drives the melting like chocolate on asphalt

standing in puddles

fluid by nature.

Everywhere and nowhere

alert to the motion of light happening

sitting on the sidelines like a voyeur at a parade,

same old same old

when nothing changes the Einstein factor

insanity will reign.

Caught in the warp of the everyday

watching dogs pace after the power line bandits

teetering on the brink of understanding that it is

what it is

and isms and schisms can whisper their words

falling on deaf ears and eyes that can only see

what is known,

a melting moon can and will happen

cause the Google monster tells us so,

check it out and know

like an artists painting of dripping moments

the brush will wash clean

clocks and the timekeepers at the gate

when anything is possible and will

when given the chance,

happen as it will-

written in time yet still as of yet undiscovered

the crazies will find the asylum a welcome retreat

from the normal that has become

the everyday.

I see the sliver hanging on the invisible string,

just a piece of its former self,

because the heat will bear down

filling in the cracks and crevices

where only tiny seeds will survive

and names will elude the mind that tires

but the mustache will stand strong

of the Dali’s of this world

for they see what others can only sense

as it all drips quietly away.

Just my mind, lost in an artists moment…..tired and ready for a soft pillow.

Smooth

We stir the sediment

raising the fragments to the surface

under sunlit horizons trickling down

resting below the edge

on the bottom of the mind.

Clarity moves in while we linger

lost in idle conversation the clearing begins

smooth rippled awareness changes

the way we see through

the darkness.

Silken flow of thought

focused and secure in its richness

golden waves make the sweetest of memories

as the clutter moves out of view

and the goodness rises to greet

the open heart.

Seeing through the surface to forever

aware of each breath and emotion,

slumbering thoughts awakened

something so easy

when finally grasped like water falling through

cleansing the palette of a parched soul.

What price?

What price is paid

by the dreamers who gaze

on the midnight sky in love

with the universe?

Through dreams below a moon

who laughs in white silence

peering through to catch in slumber

the mind lost in other worlds,

does it know of our visions?

What price is paid by the hopeful heart

who wishes as a star falls on a calm night,

the glittering spark that shoots past much too fast

yet caught in the memory with a smile?

I know of no value worth pennies or millions

that compare with the view of a night sky,

below in a forest or beside the gentle waves

inspiration shimmers like a belief in more,

like the truth that we are one with it all.

Lit

Black ceiling hangs low

red orange yellow licking tongues

snapping dragons lashing out

lit within moving outward

consuming appetite merely whetted

parched dried lands fuel the beast.

Air filled with the rage of sound

crackling popping snapping creature

man no match for the fury.

We’ve had a spate of brush fires here lately, one less than a mile away although we were safe in our neighborhood, many days you see the smoke hanging like a haze on the air, pushed by the ocean breezes and last night I woke to the slight scent on the air. Dreaming of fire inspiration for this piece. Photo found on the internet.

Goodness

Lost in the grace of soft white

petals soft like butter fill the hand

heavenly scent of delight

a gift of one from the mystery.

Gardenia bloom hidden behind

glimpse of white brought forward to see

like a shy child awkward in her beauty

unsure in a wash of green.

First borne of the new addition

her siblings wait until their time

beneath a spring sun they will come forth

and share their gift to eyes and a scent

to carry on soft winds on balmy nights

slipping in quietly through the window to find

the dream swept souls beyond the wall.

This is our mystery gardenia….not sure why they call it a mystery but it did give one bloom yesterday that smells so heavenly. I couldn’t help but to share. We planted it beneath the bedroom window so as it grows taller, it will find us in our sleep, kissing us perhaps with sweetest scented dreams. There are other buds so more or on the way, a happy thing indeed.

Peace floating

Thoughts lay in tiny bubbles

color of worlds imagined deep within

meditate the way into the dreams

set free the dark in the silence of a fast beating heart.

Latent ideas waiting to be tapped

with a gentle push they fly higher

catching the wind and disappearing into the thinness,

she softly whispers her wish into the night.

Hours pass in a solitude

not quite confined yet trapped momentarily by images

yesterday and the fast paced beat of the fear

to consume or expel into the light

there is only one way to go.

She wears the scars of a thousand battles

invisible to the eye of those who peer within

the balm of time is the salve to heal

and the holes will close

leaving only a faint remnant behind,

of a day in the life better left forgotten

like dust motes scattered

and soundless they blow

into the eternity of space and energy,

watching the specks disappear

and tucking away the memory

of release.

Cresting 

The resilience of wisdom rising,
carries us through the moments
as we sink deeper into the blue
we are suddenly caught up in the swell
buoying up and over
the crest of understanding
and the dawning awareness
of that which we already knew
deeper within
hidden in the depths
swallowed by the whale
of fear.
We rise in the light
magnified by the glaring sun
salvation saves while swimming in the belief
swirling round like the whirlpool
we lay on the surface above
watching the glistening drops turn
to the rainbows of hope
we lose ourself in the calm of peace
floating on the cascading thoughts
we move to the rhythm
of ever changing tides.