The shape of red

Moments of certainty
caught in the clarity of a lucid thought,
the shape of red lifted from beyond
as the scent of cinnamon filled my senses
a thousand falling valentine hearts
dripping from above,
like falling leaves settling into a dish-
a season of letting go
captured and understood deep within
as I inhaled the essence
and faded back into the depths.
The color never preferred
over others I drew joy from,
the vibrant hues of yesterday but so much more
held deep in the hold of timelessness
and I woke while still I slept
seeing faces faded from thought,
leaving the wonder of why now
as I reached out to touch the pieces
of those tiny bits now scattered
hearing those in the scene laughing that joyful sound
all for the bounty I had found
but I threw them high above me,
watching as they scattered once more
then watching without a care,
the tiny pieces disappearing
like the illusion they had been.
They questioned me
and my need for not gathering them all
and holding them close,
keeping them for a rainy day
or some other such reasoning
but I did not know what then to say,
for they had all gone
into the whispering wind of yesterday
where nothing lasts forever
and in the letting go
I found the abundance held.
Have you found a cinnamon heart
somewhere in your travels,
perhaps on the side of a road
now dirty maybe
or faded from time,
could it have been mine
from the day I was small in a dream,
when I thought the world needed
more than I could give?
If so, I shall smile
and move on
and if not, just wait
perhaps in time it will come.

A steady stream of consciousness piece, in part some of a dream I had last night, still pondering that one. Maybe the small KitKat bar I had before bed seeping sugar into my aimless dream thoughts.

FlAsHbAcKs

My mother and your mother were hanging up clothes,
but no punch in the nose
over said clothes
that flapped in the breeze,
and did they make cheese
in a churn in the basement
where the canning jars lay,
filled with dead spiders and webs
till the flood swept them away
with library books that were never returned,
soppy sponges of required reading
when To Kill a Mockingbird was acceptable,
and now Harper Lee lay tired
in a five dollar bin,
the Wal-Mart specials stacked and falling over
by hands that dig searching
for something perhaps found
or not.
My mother and your mother were never together
hanging up clothes
as the houses were set too far apart
and the times were simple
riding our bikes on country roads
as we drank our Dr Peppers by the creek
and growing bored returned home
to hear the arguing
the words that never seemed to end
but we carried our paper origami games
because we wanted to pick rightly,
the name of the boy we would wed,
but roses are red and violets are blue
I still remember
and hope you do too,
somewhere in this world I like to think
you remember me fondly,
the childhood friend who moved away,
who could never settle
with my soda in my bag
and the wind in my hair,
my mother and your mother….
what color was the blood?
I always chose blue
seemingly less real.

A steady stream of consciousness poem for you folks today. Was reminded of those little paper games that we played as children, you’d flip the tab of your choice and ultimately would find out the name of the boy you’d marry. I don’t know why that memory surfaced but gave it a go. The image was the closest I could find to the paper thingy we played with….stirring up the ghosts for sure 🙂

A change of form

We dream in color of things unseen
hear the whisper of the winds come calling,
change it’s gotta come,
get tired of the waiting
wondering which direction to follow,
yet the heart it keeps on beating
as we ignore the signs before our eyes-
It is within us to find
to change the mind,
to dance naked in the moonlight as lightning flashes
the electric air felt deep inside.

The calling of a heartbeat that lasts past the depths of time,
leading us onward to uncharted places and spaces,
diving deep to find the treasure waiting
or the simple joy of something new and fresh-
We will keep moving towards that thing,
that something that never stops calling-
as we sleep through the night,
eat without pause,
wonder without answer
we are driven to take that step
to see where it will lead,
perhaps to fall,
to fail
but maybe perhaps to unearth it all
as it waited patiently for us
to slow down and see
what was always waiting
right before our eyes.

As you can see here I’ve made a few changes to the site, let me know your thoughts, good and bad, what may be missing and what you think. I kind of like it so far, but it’s only been a few minutes, we’ll see.
Peace and blessings,
Kim