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.



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.

Joy in being

There is in that tiny fragment of a moment

as we become conscious of our thought,

the name for that little emotion that slips through

becoming known as we are aware,

and the feeling as it floods the soul with the river of it all

when joy is the only thing standing at the tip of the tongue,

and laughter is its sound.

We hold onto those moments,

carefully guarding them like a petty child,

yet knowing we need to share and release

but oh how it hurts holding on so very tightly

for fear replaces the joy with thoughts of it being lost,

as if it would slip away from our tiny grasp-

and in holding on we starve the emotion,

the joy starts to become small

so we let go just a bit

and feel it begin to grow once more

learning that this is how it truly must be,

to hand it off to a friend,

to send that smile and the sound of a laugh

like the tinkling of wind chimes as it drifts through the air,

landing softly in the waiting lap of all.

Yes, this is how it must be,

to live that moment in a simple joy of being,

to grow the light

and to carry it forward into the day and night.

Spilt drops

We paint our lives with each drop spilled.

Sloshing over the edge with careless hands and words

falling to the paper and running into a river

of thoughts that try to pat dry

and create anew

to cover the blemish of the mistakes

the clumsy errors of a reckless hand

that knocks then rights

extra napkins to hold just in case

it spills again.

In  between the ink-blot designs

we fabricate our fantasies and dreams

and for but a moment live within

the things only we can see,

only we can carry that image of what is needed

and how it will be

for each soul creates its own destiny

for manifesting its way to completion

and blank slates waiting

to try again.

So we tip and spill a bit more

covering the first creation now that it is

and now make something bigger and better

like a vision board of coffee tastings

different flavors and consistencies

all we desire like children we stare

as we walk by the choices

and choose none for lack

of a rainy day resource.

The waiting

Days of sun and silence

Enjoying the ease of peace that comes on far off winds

Purging the fears

The strength buoyant like birds on drifting waves


Moving into swirling thoughts

Whole then tossed upon empty shores 

Waiting to be gathered

To be carried home.

In laughter the birds talk in groups

flying carefree on breezes 

hanging in space like ornaments of clouds

invisible strings held by a master of puppet like things,

she turns in circles

arms raised to catch the falling mist

of unexpected soothing rains beginning from nowhere

to give gifts of a rainbow

falling from the heavens like a wish come true.

Her hair falling backwards as she looks higher

seeking that answer that brought her here

and that song stirs in her mind,

why now of all times and then she knows

it is the song of days of laughter and smiles

and a love of summer she had wished would never end

yet she took each word

claiming it as her own

when it was indeed a truth owned by all,

but it brings comfort to know

that he is still here

running invisibly in the woods

searching for peace to deliver it to her

like a bounty at her feet,

all she wanted

that she needed was already there,

had been found not so long ago-

she just needed the reminder

the faith that yes,

these days are filled with blessings

and the dreams will come true in her time

in her style of belief

the feet will walk this land,

and like the song claim the story

for their own

long after she is gone.

I was pondering today…asking for a sign for something on my mind and a song came on that I don’t hear very often but it always reminds me of my beloved boy pup Zip, and I sang along and felt a smile and knew that he will see through that which will be true and I walked to the window, gazing towards the woods where he resides and felt that peace. Yeah, he’s still got it. I like gifts like those.

Dancing on air

In the clear night air
Coolness on my face
I gaze up pondering
The loveliness of a moon
And shooting past
The shining star
As I stood in awe
Of the beauty
Of another perfect moment
I was blessed to be in.
As everything falls
Into a graceful line
This and that
So perfect
Ocean breezes will find
The heart of joy as we dance
In the air of perfection,
As the sun comes to find us
Waiting in anticipation
Of the culmination of a dream
Coming simply
Happily true.