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?

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.

Unharnessed

We let these subtle things go,

the nagging little thoughts that shroud

the darkening of the soul

through peace

we see the openings between the lines

slipping loose we are unharnessed to the words

and plucking about in the meadows of life

we gather the sweetest as we move through.

We watch the scenery unfold

as we get about our moments in our heart centered place

moving through space,

each second and memory different and of itself,

we accept which is good and true

to simply let go the rest,

like seeds blowing in the winds

we allow them to take space and root

somewhere beyond where our footprints will not grace,

knowing that which we see is just that,

our interpretation based on the history

which we have created within

and we can be set free to wander the winds

and the mountains to meadows

finding beauty and peace

waiting somewhere for us

fertile ground between ocean to ocean,

we set our sights on the skies

wishing on stars that we know always come through,

guiding us to our rightful space,

gathering us loosely like wildflowers

the good seed replanted in time

to produce the beauty of the universe

and the lingering satisfaction

of a new day of life we create

with love and understanding,

we run to take flight, to soar

and to glide effortlessly

through worlds of truth.

Salt of life

Carried on gentle breezes
thoughts rest quietly on the mind,
watered down and moving perpetually
back and forth this rhythmic life
tides changing course
as we slide into the warmth
of a new and beautiful day.
Places call to the soul
as salty breezes soothe the senses
grey clouds linger
giving a dark tint to the day,
a drop here and there
threatening with the oncoming storm
we move about unencumbered
living as we must
regardless of the outcomes,
ready and waiting
foot tapping gently to the sound
of a breaking wave below.
Easy laid back moments
watching as the earth moves around us,
with us as she must
for we stand steady and calm,
just another day in paradise
we wander the sand in solitary thought
feeling alive and whole
nourished by the echo
of our heart beating in time
sprinkled with seasoning
and glistening with a drop or two
of showers quenching the thirst
of a mermaids soul.

Dusted off

We shake it off, the cobwebs and dust of dreams

silently rolling in their hushed selves beneath afternoon naps

the prints of a thousand bunnies lingering,

bits and pieces and hairs brought to order

natures cast off voodoo dolls run rampant

dwelling in the corner-space of the post

where I left my mind momentarily

like an old piece of chewing gum.

I had forgotten where it was that I had left it

as I moved away the brick-a-brack to find

the goals that were sifted away unknowingly by time.

I feel the grittiness beneath these worn and calloused bare toes

tripping through the dark in the heart of midnight,

and while standing below the clouds beyond the door

I heard the voice gently chide

knowing it is indeed the time to move forward

and attach the message to the letter sent

to the universe.

Shake it off, these dust bunnies of thought

with the purple feather sweep away

and dive into the depths of fear to know

the path has been found once more,

and as the sage who came by post to find me,

she had spoken to my heart and I heard the sound

of laughter on the wind,

come child lets begin

and in picking up the pen,

dipped in the ink of a thousand thoughts

the page blank before beckons me,

the time is now

and there is NO turning back.

Upon receipt of an amazing piece of work from my beautiful friend Tre, her latest book has found me now all charged up and ready to set that goal of publishing my own first book. What a gift, for a friend to inspire unknowingly and in shaking off the dust after my afternoon nap, tripping on dust bunnies and finding a laugh, the time IS now. Not later, not soon, but now 🙂  A book review will be coming soon for A New Kind of Down: The Breath & Bones of a Writer by Tremaine Loadholt.

 

 

Night skies

Streaking past eyes
Perpetually watching
streaking stars race through
dust of the night things
glittering like diamonds.
Purple reigns in her mind
time flying past
out of sight
and the mind soothed
as the color flows
mid spring skies awaken
with the coming of dawn
just another star that fell
on distant lands
in a universe high.

My second art piece created today, practicing with the sea salt in the sky, and masking fluid meteors flying by….having fun, another working day, heigh ho….and off I go.

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.

Moonstruck

I am always amazed by the simple things

the serendipitous moments that find me

like the sweetest blessings,

like words from afar just because

or standing strong in the face of fear

and realizing what looked so large

was something more like a speck of nothing,

the way I can laugh then

wondering if it is the moon

taunting and toying with me-

cat and mouse

in a game where there are only winners

and the pain and tiredness slips under the sheets

like the magician

here then poof “gone”.

What are these, quiet moments below the glow above

as it watches me

gracing my shadow with its presence

creating the length where I pounce upon the darkness

like a modern-day superhero

and it jumps too, where I cannot win this game

in this way

yet if I go below where it doesn’t see

and can’t capture me in silhouette

I make my own shadows with fingers

like when I was young,

and I know as I write this

I feel at times like a pleasantly surprised 5-year-old,

often amazed by the simple little miracle like things

surrounding me,

changing the perspective to not fear the darkness,

but to create my own whimsy characters in light-

because I believe I can

I make it happen

like magic,

I smile and wave goodnight

to sweet Luna who will continue its watch

upon this soul who knows

it’s all magical

and it’s all good.