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.

Gently we go

Into the memory bank to make a withdrawal,

gently we go into our days remembering

as an image comes to mind,

when things are broken we need to gather

the proper tools of love to fix the pieces.

Holding carefully we examine the thought,

swept through this waking dream we conjure

the invisible lines that separate us from now to then,

retracing the steps through magical realms

and revisiting the sacred spaces of our youth.

We affix the pieces together like a puzzle,

knowing just where to place each one

to complete the image just so,

we smile in our perfect innocence

and turn the page to find

the next adventure.

Why this image brought me forth

from a mid morning daydream of bears and special places,

of doing the best to mend,

and as my finger traces I go back to the days

of reading such sheer magic,

a gift from someone,

but pencil images in hard covered volumes,

fill a mind with wonder

at the simple things

that gave a smile.

Our pup Apple was a bit gimpy yesterday and although we made it through our morning walk this morning, she is having her moments of limping and quite clingy, following me everywhere through the house. I remembered this picture and pulled it up on-line, how I wish I had a magical wand to make her leg return back to her normal marching gait, but for now she will sit beside me in slumber, resting against me as she has her doggie dreams where she chases the varmints like a young girl again. Peace and a lovely Tuesday my friends.

Watercolor world

Dripping from the palette

this watercolor world slowly blending

into colors of the emotion

coming together in beautiful unison,

an artists touch of thoughts

expressed on parchment weathered,

her life unfolded through her memory

captured and hung

a moment of her life

movement bleeding from pigment.

Changes in hues of yellows to blues

roots grown in deep so strong

yet the sense of floating amidst the falling

and being a part of the view

as the wetness dries becoming

a dash of echoes broken yet together still,

and how I longed to be the hand

that held the portal to create

the majestic find of a universal truth.

Beautiful art: Anna Armona Watercolor Painting

Treasured

What is it there beneath the lid,

creaking wood of memories crypt

remembered scent and sound of days

so far gone by,

useless bric-a-brac hovering

on the edge of a thought

almost forgotten,

but not quite yet.

Are there stories in there lurking beneath dust,

has it been ages since the light has seen

these images of yellowed tattered remnants

of broken hearts and letters from loved ones

now gone into the ethereal skies

waiting without another chance to be,

or to whisper a final goodbye.

Are there fragile pieces wrapped in silk,

tucked in gently lest they break from handling,

a feather from somewhere on travels afar

or rocks in shades of mysterious caves,

reds and grays,

stacked upon books saved for rainy days,

what treasure is there

buried in your mind,

words left to find

to write,

to live a life of their own

to be shared,

to be gathered and loved.