Nostalgia (haiku)

Sundays with Grandpa

Happy forest family

Reptiles lurk below.

 

Lumbering giants

friends who come to save the day

Moments remembered.

 

Black and white world then

life filled with easier times

captivated awe.

Went kayaking the other day and saw a gator a few feet away churning in the water, and now images of the old Tarzan “movie for a Sunday afternoon” days keep bubbling up in my mind. Nostalgia at its best.

Unburied

We unearth our treasures unknowingly,
lost bones gathered on silent sand
washed ashore like mermaid souls,
quietly wandering in ghostly apparitions.
We gather together
bits and pieces of a dying life,
what once moved with the undulating sea
now tossed aside like yesterdays trash.
Picked by clever hands
stowing away into the gaping empty bag,
fossils of a thousand years away
yesterday cleaned and tucked into jars
kept in the sun and cherished.
We unbury mementos as we walk along
not searching for the particular
just these gifts from the sea offered
waiting for the eye to catch
to silently wonder in awe
just what it is that is finally found.
What once was so strong,
carried on the back and found so deep
majestic creatures that still inspire
yet dwindling in numbers we cast our eyes outward
searching for sight or sound,
for we know they will sing
though we may never hear the song,
we know the beat of the waves
from cradle to the grave,
we become one with this history
unburied and gifted
and loved.

A photo of my finds at the beach yesterday, a whale vertebra, a shell with a peaceful little heart broken through it, and what I think is some sort of dead coral, rather stiff yet pliable….thought it was a fish carcass at first. Just thought I’d share my finds, have yet to wash off the sharks teeth, another small bag in itself. The whale vertebra is the size of my palm. Very cool finds 🙂

Living layers

Lost in the deepest corners of the darkest sleep

hours pass living out scenes with strangers

and eyes that dig deep with knowing

into the soul as we watch the moment

like a television show first seen in color,

with wonder we breathe in the clouded air,

as if a long-lost spirit you’ve once known

watching you intently with a hint of smile,

as you recognize somewhere below

in that layer that you knew existed,

yet had never entered-

the calm moves over smoothing the storm

as the heart beats in time

with the dream realm story before you.

In dreams do we see

hints of those passed on into the energy of now,

connections of spirit that call to us,

we wake refreshed and smiling

for even in knowing the experiences not real

yet always remembered with a certain fondness for their being.

Do we gather lessons we’ve learned

while visiting these corners of the mind,

are the faces unfamiliar yet known

perhaps sent for reasons beyond our minds perception?

Deep eyes looked into mine and I had the sense

they were sent with a message

and as the weight of days were lifted and carried,

I felt like I could fly into the gathering clouds

knowing that movement was now needed

to join the underlying layer

to become one with the deepest self,

to be

to breathe upon waking

into a realm of peace.

Thoughts on a dream I had last night, a stranger whose eyes seemed so very familiar, kind and light and in conversation I left, walking away feeling as if the weight I had carried had been lifted away and that in allowing, I had become free. I like dreams like that ❤

Swaying mantle of silence

We move in and out,

mere breath like wind through open windows

sill waiting to catch a bit of the morning light

while birds of a thousand feathers scatter

as the cat treads stealthily through the grass.

There is always that sense nearby,

the underlying lurking of things unsaid

and moods cast aside with unintentional force,

we become specters of self as feet move

tired in the damp and musty air.

Where has the cool wind gone that I recall,

night of dreams of eagerness through fear

as the words are lost in the shuffle of paper

and we suddenly see we are drowning in our quest,

taking charge before a hundred waiting faces

we close our eyes and slip away to the shadows

wondering where the ideas had come from and gone.

The lighthouse waits to show the way,

penned by a soul I know not well

and I will know her words for I am drawn

into the waves of passing days

and a continent away foreign and unknown,

I will come to know across this space and time

through yellowed pages of a dime-store book

left behind gently used

eager I will learn

what it is, this ghost of form

that called me to hear the wind of yesterday.

Strange dreams came calling last night and today by chance happened into a thrift store and bought a dirt cheap copy of Virginia Woolf’s “To the lighthouse” to read at my leisure. I have not every read any Woolf so looking forward to what I may find within the pages.

 

Roads of the mind

Dust covered roads wait
Patience the virtue for natures soul
steps blown clean after storms
cleaned slate watching the horizon
on these roads of the mind.
Peace calls on restless winds
carrying me back to school days
dreamless times spent knowing
there was always something more,
voices keep company in the midnight hour
as pens scratch across blank slates
spiral books filled and forgotten
as the words fell unheard, unseen.
Grasses grow beside lonely paths
and I never could make up my mind
to Frosts nature and pondering poems,
for my head resided amongst the stars above,
where no path stood
just wide open spaces of galaxies
and planets unknown to all
but the soul that remembers
below the conscious surface,
energy flows
always following
the road home to the heart.

From here

We smooth the surface, filling in spaces

holes dug searching for answers,

outwit the worms for they will never feed

on this soul

for ash will blow on the wind and settle

back into part of the whole

as we stand and feel the energy rise

giving guidance and peace to the mind.

We are the dirt where unknown bones are buried

burrow through like the creatures residing

deep in the unknown,

snakes sleep in gaps where light never finds

and we too are connected

in our fears and our movement through

like curving waves undulating parting the grasses

we bask in the sun where we find it,

wondering how we had forgotten to remember

these moments of a solitary silence,

and words will rise like fog

burning off in the morning light

becoming like the dew that lies on mounds

burial grounds for yesterday,

damp and a ready feast

for the birds that sink their faces below earth

searching for sustenance,

moving to where it is that perhaps they hear

come here to this place below the towering tree

and find the gifts given,

crawling insects and worms to fuel

for another day of life.

Monday meandering thoughts on dirt (don’t ask me why, it just kept surfacing like a small hill) and life. Peace and blessings and a happy day to one and all ❤

Like dust of dreams

I awoke in the home of a new world

bodies of fractured dust blown on endless winds,

storm clouds gather to wash me away

cleansing the soul of eternity.

Built on memories through time

yesterday speaks with a thousand tongues,

who we are

what we’ve become

just another piece in the spectrum of it all.

We climb to skies that seek us out

higher in thoughts we float on calm,

dappled skies in black and white

photographs and still life trapped on film,

turn page after page as day is through.

Where we’ve been we sometimes see

in the mind of dreams we chance to know

the truth of lives through a million years

caught in a raindrop falling down

reflecting our here and now

we know

it’s just a small piece

of the whole.

In and out

We move in stages

smooth like stone worn by the hands of time,

colors blended to become a whole

perfection found in corridors.

We open our thoughts to places in dreams,

walking silently as we listen to the wind,

whispered history of centuries passed

while we feel the energy flow

from the ground to our soul.

In and out of sleep and dreaming

I know these places from lifetimes ago,

hands smooth the surface of images found

balancing the mind in the context of this time.

Who do we become when we step knowingly

the rabbit run of mazes and mystery,

rushing to the party for a last cup of tea,

that stained these walls with their leaves and scent

waiting for rain to brighten the hue

as the dryness becomes

a part of the daily life

and these mountains carved know the secrets

told by the seer before time began,

we become transfixed listening

for that heartbeat of the universe.

breaking dawn

We stand in quietest thought

watercolor skies fill the soul with a peace,

tranquility knows what the heart feels

as the water lays smooth at my reach.

Boats bob gently in the harbor

old worn lines tether her to the dock

as birds walk without a sound

long slender necks dip below the ripples

gathering their morning food

and I watch the hues wishing

for paper and paint to capture the sight

greeting me with a proper good morning shine

reflected off the fin

as dolphins swim towards the places

where the sun will rise

and I too will be there to greet the light

rocking on the green blue water

anticipation for the day to come,

we move into the waiting sea

balancing our bodies

and quenching our souls

with visions of this breaking morning paradise.

Went fifteen plus miles out fishing yesterday on a boat on the Gulf of Mexico, caught a few, tossed back a few, and managed to keep my stomach in check so as to not embarrass myself as a sea-tosser of yesterdays supper. A good day, caught some color too and after six hours, decided I must be getting old as I needed a proper nap to catch my energy back up. The boat and some ocean pics. All photos by me 🙂

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Of the sea and sand

We leave imprints in the sand of hearts,

friends and days filled to overflowing

moments shared for just a small bit of time

just enough to cement the bond

of smiles and laughter

understanding and kinship.

We live by the sea that flows like a thousand days

passing us by often too quickly,

capturing snippets of a memory to carry

along for the ride through the skies.

You can only gather so much

hands in a frenzy to take in each piece of beauty,

and a page of each lesson learned,

every new color embossed upon our thoughts.

The Opera Rose who speaks to all,

and a pastel water filled world unfolding,

a word or thought,

a sigh or smile,

it all means so much when brought together

and embraced like a wildflower that thrives

in the direst of circumstance,

and we never question what happens,

why certain people we encounter just surface at that right time,

like mermaids and the mighty octopi of the depths,

mysterious yet embraced because we know

in the deep of trust we find the good,

we sit mesmerized by the gifts life gives

as it indeed knows just what is needed

at those times when souls collide

like a thousand stars in skies beyond our view,

we embrace the finite of the here and now

knowing tomorrow is just another day

unlike any before or any that will follow,

an emptiness will linger

as we empty our cups of used colour,

we are humbled to leave our prints,

allowing them to be washed away as the moon rises

and another night departs,

our thoughts remain stoic and strong

knowing where there are friends within

we will rise to the surface to find

a golden sun setting

or an almost full moon rising

to bookend the time

between yesterday and tomorrow.

Thinking of a beautiful soul I met this Spring, who filled my day with a light happy calm and a smile to light up any moment, may the ride home be calm and peaceful and your days be full until your return, and always know that you’ve enriched my life as no one else will ever do. To Seattle Sue ❤ Peace and blessings, and a special shout out to Angie ’cause I know you’re reading this. No comments needed my beautiful friend, just happy you’re a big part in my little piece of this universe ❤ to friends ❤ priceless.