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.

Beyond the seas

Blue skies quietly linger

in the light of a dying sun,

nestled in for the evening

we are swept away on tranquil seas.

Shades and hues of life

linger in the mind sweet memories

captured within for future dreams

washing away the cares of the day.

We watch the masterpieces of the touch

of a universe that gives to all

as our love moves deeper as days pass

rippled on tides of coming Spring,

we slip into dreams wondering

what each tomorrow brings

yet sit content in the now

and the gift of a watercolor image

tucked into the keep

of the heart.

My dreams lie within and beyond the sea,

changing day by day

I dive in a little deeper,

letting it all carry me away

knowing the horizon

is still just a heartbeat in time,

there beyond my gaze and found

by my lingering touch on the water,

I drift on.

Rolled

I remember the scent of hay

growing in fields below a setting sun,

waiting

for that moment when ready,

ripe,

ripped,

cut,

severed and laying beneath the sun

drying out,

curling into a remnant of self.

Words pass through days

reaching in deep

pulling out the moisture

the life blood

the force that gave life

and with a last gasp

rolled into mounds

to serve purpose

in new ways under a winter sun,

brittle and cold

yet ready.

Rough and edged with pieces of yesterday

cut down from the beauty of the growth

fodder for life

still of use

sustenance for the hooved beast,

food for the circle

the chain that moves round,

I should be happy to be

when so many lands lay barren.

For I am a part of all,

it is I

and I am stacked and in circles

waiting for the next move.

Delicate

Our lives-

pickup stick games

from youth to death

sliding out so carefully

each thought from beneath the balance,

never knowing if one jolt,

one movement affects the next thought

and so on

as we pull each one with carefulness and agility,

observing what is to come next

and then beyond

weighing our choices

as we look from each angle

making our decision

so thoughtfully.

How did they become this jumble,

for this is how the game is played

they are not Lincoln logs waiting to be built,

a pile of shapes and varying sizes,

these slim fragments of color are all the same

as we are all the same

we try in earnest fashion to win each game,

sometimes succeeding

sometimes moving and tipping the scales

this way or the other,

yet we keep going as if there is no other way.

Until the last stick is picked up

we pay close attention to each detail,

if we do this, what may happen?

Not until the game is over,

do we finally realize it was simply a game after all,

it became more fun when we took the risk

and chanced failure to do so,

there was always a do over until there wasn’t.

But if each stick were a person in our lives,

and we kept adding instead of removing

oh what a beautiful shrine we could build,

higher and higher into the sky

we would win every time,

everyone would have a chance or say

and we could live in balance

and harmony

until the end of our days.

 

A scents of peace

Lavender soothes the mind in night

candles flicker their beauteous light,

oil to calm the troubled skin

another day to move through again.

Where peace comes calling, the stars collide

and bringing dust in dreamtime I fly

through midnight grace and images deep

restless and warm I search for sleep.

I hear a song from a passing car

and the lyric soothes as it drifts so far,

I saw the faces from yesterday

in nights sleeping memories they stay.

Like chapters from a story of fear

I feel the menace of the ones I held dear

and running I stop and choose to fight

perhaps I’ll win tonight.

He looks in my eyes with the barrel raised

and winks just once then walks away

the moment passes and I finally breathe

the story of mind does often weave,

the scents of life bring me back to now

and eyes wide open I’m alive somehow

for he knew that I had been within the peace

and with his exit, I’ve been released.

Every night this week I’ve been having some very strange dreams. Last night was like a massacre at the place I formerly worked at, and as I knew something was going to happen somehow, I remembered the only place to hide, yet he watched as I entered and as I rushed to lock the other door, through the window he smiled at me as he raised the gun, I stood my ground and he winked and turned and walked the other way. I was also barefoot and trying to tiptoe carefully through the glass with a young woman I didn’t know who followed me. Strange scary stuff and not sure what it was all about, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had such vivid dreams. Time to release more essential oils into the air for calm before sleep I think. Enjoying them none the less and trying to garner sense from it at the same time 🙂 peace and sweet dreams tonight I pray. K

In search of perfection

I’ve got my lime

I’ve got my mint

I left the last of the ice in it,

I found the rum

stole the hummingbird food too,

went round the world (on-line of course)

in search of the perfect mojito.

I love the green that swims in it

I love the drops from the cold as it sits,

To pluck and chop and stir so sweetly

but it always seems to go down too quick

I’ve got more limes

more than enough time

the sweetest man who whips it up

service with a smile

I think I may just have to sit with it awhile,

savor the flavor beneath the winter sun

and pretend like I’ve just begun,

hey bartender, I’ll take one more

as the Mexican perky music plays

I realize these my friends, are perfect days.

Hubby and I grabbed some mint at the farmers market and some limes, whipped up some sweet syrup and relaxed poolside sipping, then hubby found a new recipe, the best one yet and mixed more up the next day. He’s had the flamingo stir stick for over 25 years, must have known it was a harbinger of things to come, moving to Florida and yummy drinks poolside. Life is good indeed. Ribs on tap for dinner tonight and looking forward to that.

Barest thought

In the quiet of a morning caught

the spellbinding sight of a rising sun

caught whispering to the soul

caressing the mind with thoughts of a day to come.

Eyes find their way through dream states,

memories of lingering images like wallpaper

strung up on the walls to see

moving through the museum of surreal things

we touch the fabric of that which we cannot name.

Resting on the tip of tongue

we hesitate perhaps a moment too long,

and watching as it fades from sight

the mirage ghost-like and cherished

then silently let go.

Who are we in these moments,

caught between wake and sleep

in Neverland worlds of beauty we wander

thoughts tracing words on invisible pads

and indigo ink mark our passage

lest we forget where we had been

on our return to those foreign lands,

as the clouded gate creaks with age

we gentle push forward and enter

the place where thoughts sit waiting

remembered once more.

 

Cotton candy

Thoughts spun like the sweetest sugar

essence of cotton candy memories painted

skies and seas conform to need

learning as the days go by.

Form and function never cease

but to set it free in midnight dreams

of a universe that moves about me

carrying my thoughts like a child in arms.

I reach back in to plumb the depths

where treasure waits for sight and touch,

I move closer to the lovely prize

like a thousand birds that take to flight

this quiet night.

I lose myself in minutes long

and blend it all in for it to become

a piece of the whole dripping lightly

with point and flat I feel myself flowing,

diving deep to become one with it all.

There is no storm-tossed water,

just tranquil blue beneath the setting sun,

rocking gently to the lapping of the waves

bare feet keeping harmony

to the song of this heart.

When we were small

Through jungles of thick dense mirages

we quietly slip through the darkness seeking

the light of a thousand daydreams

we know lay beyond the realm of youth.

When we were small we longed for age,

to be like those we saw around us like tall trees

and beautiful willowy women who entered rooms

and silence greeted their demure smiles,

jewels dripping from arms and necks

as the music played and the dances began

we watched from behind potted plants

meager in our pajama clad selves,

uninvited to the ball.

We pretended in front of mirrors,

decorating faces with left-over hand me downs

crumbling blue shadows and dried tubes and pots-

and broken glittering necklaces with missing pearls,

we bowed and curtsied and spun with joy

yet somewhere inside we knew it was just play

the tattered gowns and the laughter we endured

on playground fields from the older girls,

we stood with our faces outstretched to the sun,

yearning to be seen

in the overgrown garden of this make believe.

When we were young we longed for more

and as we became the trees so tall

we looked with love at those still small,

remembering the good

and casting out the sad,

now we long for those softer times of quiet,

the moments of innocence before the dark clouds

of want and need and anger became

a fabric of our lives we had not asked for,

we long for that peace

of yesterday once more.

I saw this image and this is what came to mind, no fears my friends, I’m in a good place, sitting in the shade of a beautiful Florida winter? day, listening to the world move in its own special way and just being.