Upon a thought of movement

We are quicksand lives

mired and murky in their naivety

waiting for the next flash of something

anything to change the colors that spin

out of our control

like dancing fireflies which mesmerize

we fall silent in their beauty,

in their simplicity.

Jealous in fact I think,

as they flit about like monarchs

so seldom seen yet still revered,

we watch in fascination

enraptured by their beauty

longing to be light

buoyant like air.

Skies change like minds

suddenly

quickly as each day passes

and we move in our directions

when the light changes granting pardon

and we scurry across like rabbits watched

by waiting dogs,

never knowing when the texter may move forward

unaware at what transpires behind the wheel

though in the wrong

clueless to the life that moves

beyond the capsule

of airbags and roll bars,

a hapless victim of the new day.

We heed the call within

at times understanding the words unspoken,

to breathe and move

in an unhurried pace,

to reflect and embrace

to just be at one for a minute

while the stars pass by

unnoticed at times

when framed in the image

of a spring time moon.

Last man standing

We became those,

the last standing remnant of yesterday,

dinosaurs of our existence,

caught between a song and today

for there was nothing else

we could fathom.

We were born this way

so the beauty of each song had to say,

voices without faces

it just was the way it was

and we accepted it that way,

For there was no depth,

no stress,

nothing that got caught up in the way,

and we could sleep at night knowing

we were young

unique,

the last man standing

like the birches in the meadows,

peeling from the outside in,

the scent deep on the air,

we were just that

simplistic like a memory,

got caught in the way.

I sit here today,

the jasmine heavy on the air

like thoughts on the mind,

and tomorrow is yet another day

and it will be what it will be,

and somewhere within,

beneath the cuticle that’s torn,

through each bit of ache

we know it will regain

its strength again.

I know not always the right things to say,

I only can feel what flows like a stream-

slipping past the silent trees that watch

like the nightman waiting for drama,

nothing wicked this way comes

except that which we invite with open doors,

and closed minds,

time drifts down as the night has descended

and a sad country song plays on the disc,

why not me?

and I wonder,

why not?

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.

Wandering

My mind is lost in clouds of bliss

in a land where the silence of emptiness rings on air

and the softness of peace cocoons the soul.

Manic moves come to abrupt endings

and I stand on the edge of the reflections

wondering what it is I now see within.

Lost at times yet still searching,

wandering the mind like a bohemian child,

the lost chord is waiting to be found

and the bells of the winds beckon to follow.

I need to be here in this place

where endless skies kiss the peaceful water

edged by land that left no prints behind,

forging forward to the destiny and faith

breathing in the slivers of dryness

parched lips sing hymns of patience

and set free the song of a time of believing.

I come to ask the clouds for their wisdom,

the drops of harmony and life-giving measure

caught in a cup and sipped slowly,

savored for the life force it gives.

beautiful image found at;  http://vicki73.deviantart.com/art/Endless-Skies-179350061

Within these spaces

We linger within these spaces

captured in a reflection of beauty

gentle reminders for a deep breathing calm

miracles of time move us from darkness

into the spaces where light finds us waiting.

I had forgotten these things

as the cloud of sadness filled the thoughts with fear

I dove in like a parched soul so weary

hanging onto that which cannot be held,

until I stopped and became one

the color of a sunburst on a stem,

siesta blooms gracing the garden

by a loving mans hands.

I stepped out of the depths that tried to submerge me

eager for the hands that were always patiently waiting

to offer a healing thought,

a loving prayer for the beings I so love.

I need to be in this space more

allowing my hands to move with the flow of the words

pent-up too long needlessly,

not for fear but for the hurt and ache that leveled my mind,

I see the clouds moving in that will bring a welcome rain

and the blooms that are and those that will be

hold their faces up for the nourishment

that only a kind world can give,

and I shall be grateful and humble at the little things

never taking for granted the little or big moments

for they all shine.

I will overcome this moment and it shall pass

leaving me satiated and content

in the grace of gifts.

I have been absent for a little while, scared senseless for our little dog Chi and I thank you all so kindly for your words and prayers. She sits watching me write, and it feels so very good to be a little more at peace. The flower is a Siesta hibiscus that hubby picked out yesterday and planted outside of our bedroom wall, along with a mystery gardenia (2 actually), some spiky pretty pointy palmy things and alongside the pool, another gardenia and some Ixora plants that have dainty little flowers on them. The jasmine is beginning to bloom and I am breathing in and out, enjoying the moments and just letting things work in the way that they have to. Here is another pic of the siesta beauty. Stay warm and safe if you’re up North/East and thank you again for being the beautiful people of my world. Kim

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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

Thoughts drifting

Were stood at a standstill in the harsh light of the sun,

waves of heat rising like a downtown oasis

blanketing life in the haze of a constructed cloud

built of sweat and labor

we slowly inch our way through

as I drift away.

In that space, not here but somewhere close within’

where the soothing wind finds me

like a small craft on an endless sea

or a child in a field of downy tufts

waiting to blow her wish into the skies.

So still yet all around the commotion

of mouths in animation moving fast, devices in hand,

lights that change much too soon

as we try to slip through into the wide open

I hear a melody in my mind

soft and sweet like a lullaby

and I gaze around at the nameless faces

smiling within for I am sitting here in this peace,

while the world rushes all around

I sit here grounded in gentle thoughts

enjoying the moment of the here and now.

I’ve no need to race to the ends of this road,

to play beat the clock and feel the rush

but to just breathe in and breathe out,

escaping into these thoughts that will wait

for the open door and smiling faces

on the quiet street where the spring flowers bloom

and there is room

to move and grow

in an idyllic pace of time passing unnoticed.

It’s always an adventure driving to the closest “big” city, being stuck in gridlocked traffic as the endless construction moves forward, but today I just took the time to be lost in thought, watching the people around me looking stressed and rushed, and felt such a peace to know, we will get where we’re going in good time, there’s nowhere else we need be, and to just enjoy the moment.

Cloaked in color

We are what we are

cloaked in the colors we choose to wear

hues to mark the emotion we feel

wrapped tight in the comfort of our choice.

We hold it about us, becoming all we desire-

manifesting the persona we long to be,

draped in the fabric of the lives we live.

Who do we become,

when we slip away for a while into the edges,

the places where there are no faces,

no reflections to mar-

no standard we are set up to be,

just the quiet solitude that comes

when we step aside and sit awhile-

contemplating our todays and the meaning

of each feeling that cascades like silk,

moving over us like a curtain shuts out the light.

We rest here in the crook of this place,

poised on the edge of darkness we peer in-

hoping to see just a little bit more

to feel a little bit more than this cavernous echoing place,

we remain until ready-

and we push aside the ties that bind,

unwrapping our hearts as we cautiously peer about-

knowing that the colors have become

just a small fragment of ourselves,

and our thoughts rush naked into the void

slipping through the cracks where the light still shines,

and emerging from the cocoon of life

decked in our finest selves,

eager to become a part of it all once more.

 

Realm of a black hole moment

In sleep I watched as the tale was told,
Unfolding in slow motion
each scene like a movie
old Hollywood days long gone.
Hanging on edges with nowhere to move,
mapping the escape out one step at a time
rolling into the zone of freedom
as the plastic strip moved wildly
slapping the machine
ticker tape gone wild.
I knew as eyes opened and closed,
the deepness like that of a whales black marble eyes,
endless darkness that feels so much
yet you can only imagine
in such a small way
when beside such endless majesty.
Slipping into the depths once more
out of view with a slight splash
wondering where to journey next
in this vast expanse of dreamscape life,
holding my breath
yet knowing an endless supply is mine,
I move into the deep cold wonder
surrounded by a view
only experienced
in the quiet moments
of a golden sleep undisturbed.