We unite in thoughts
caught in shades and hues of life,
how we feel
like afterthoughts caught,
unexpectedly stinging like a solemn bee
just hanging about
doing its thing
lashing out because
threatened things do what they do
and you cant hate the things that cause pain
when its the little needling thoughts
that keep doing their thing,
so no surprise
when welts arise
and a tear is shed
because for that moment
we had become unconnected
from the natural world,
dwelling in potions
things that dull
and like Alice meandering through
searching for the cat and tea party,
looking like deer in the headlights,
and we fall into the rabbit hole once more.
So we stop,
and breathe,
and be,
because what else can one do to make sense,
to lose ones self into the purple haze
of quiet days
where no answers are needed
and the best moments are to be
drifting on the calm
beneath purple skies
wondering what it was
that disrupted us to begin with
and always leaves us at the end of the day
when can we return
even with the jolt that delivered us,
knowing as our bodies become grounded
that we just need to be there
where the silence calls
and we know the words of that song
by heart.
We’ve been here before
a lifetime ago,
fancy how things talk to us
in their own special way,
I like to think at times
it’s like going home again
even if a sky and universe away….
we still remember
because of the unconscious sting
that raises to remind
it is all relative.

Silver lined

Days filled to overflowing

ocean water blue-green cascading around my legs

cool wetness soothing the spirit

just being at one.

Waiting in line noticing the color

pastries lined on silver trays

as the old man ahead decides

wearily leaning on the worn cane

hands thick with worn veins

confusion in his lost blue eyes

she orders for his decision cannot be made

in a timely pace she moves him aside

cast off like a sinking ship

his eyes look down as he shuffles away.

I wonder then, staring at the hues of bread,

when was it last that he felt the ocean

caress his weary soul,

and does he dream of silver lined clouds

his youth so far away

and I know I too shall someday pass into the space

where he resides in slow motion,

and I exit through glass to see the gathering clouds,

gently waiting in a blue sky,

and I know there must be a silver lined thought

waiting there for me to reach

to grasp it firm and hang on,

to fly in the atmosphere of the young,

to remember the importance

before it fades to grey.

I’ve been practicing my artwork again and a friend requested to see a bit of what I’ve been dabbling in. The clouds are with my new indigo waterpaint and the collection below if a little of what we’ve been working on in class……and miles to go before I am any good, but damn, so glad I am blessed to see the colors, not only in the paints but in this life. Spent the morning in the ocean, walking for an hour with hubby and collecting more sharks teeth and “just being”, it had been far too long and the ocean was calm and I am in a good space. Peace and love, K


With the flow


We ripple our thoughts on purpose,

watching them move up and down

coming together for but a moment

then watch as they slip away once more.

We wonder where they move to,

what lies in their depths we can no longer see,

feeling them brush by, leaving just a hint

of their former selves

then dissipating into nothing.

I dream in colors some days

as the rain falls beyond the glass

slippery pearls dripping down one by one

and I lie and watch the slow motion of the fan

circulating on its journey

moving the invisible air around

cooling my body with its quiet touch.

So many things to do,

a million words slipping here and there,

sometimes falling onto stone

permanent marker time cannot erase,

for I leave them behind

like stepping-stones for those to come

to wonder whose hand it was

that etched the primitive images

and what did they mean

back in the day

before their time began.

Peace of water

I moved through waves that become

salted caresses of the blue

washing in and out over sun drenched skin

finding peace tumbling at my feet.

Bright sun shines on the glittering pool

empty beyond the boats on the water

horizon of sight etched of skies of blue

touched down on the mind like a softness

too often forgotten on busy days.

Round world held in hands like a treasure

the scent of life permeates

as the swaying of these undulating waves move

feeling so very delicious and alive

here and now.

In and out aware of falling into bliss

of this moment at the sea

of finding the calm essence of me.

Hues of mist

Swirling dappled mist

grey balanced on water green

into blue they move

keeping watch for something

in their mind

living their life of calm.

Flapping wings lift through

haze of shadows reflect the light

creeping through to burn a hole

to seep into the poets soul.

Water sprays on endless rock

as fishermen wait with patient airs

and the flock moves bobbing on tiny waves

as we walk into the murky haze.

Days of new I see here now

the wings of beauty draw closer somehow

and sit beside they pose a spell

then flying off into the cloud

I wish them well.

Going, going…see ya.
Look at me….
Goodbye…gone fishing
Seeping through…

Moving senses

I came here to this place of peace, as the water was still, calm as glass with no hint of a wind. The clouds moved in and out of the view of the September sun and I stood alone as tiny ripples moved around my legs, my reflection in the blue green water comical with the big straw hat and white t-shirt to save the shoulders from the rays glare. Sunscreen slathered on my legs…yet somehow in my eagerness I forgot my arms….

I laughed aloud as I walked slowly in the water, looking up to see if anyone had heard but no one was close enough and so I just stood there glancing into the water around me for more treasures. A group of thin silver fish flitted around my legs, as if they were not used to something being there, perhaps as if two small trees grew in their path unexpectedly and so they moved around as their eyes peered up into the giant above them, wary yet moving forward none the less. I looked up as I heard a strange noise and saw a tall bird standing there on the sand watching me. A great blue heron. I think perhaps he thought I was a fisherman, with my plastic colander and plastic bag in my hand, and he thought that I’d throw him a snack, but alas I came only equipped with a few shells and a hundred teeth in a bag. He moved on after awhile and was soon replaced with a smaller replica, and then another and later, another. All different but all curious as to what I was doing there, ankle deep in water as I bent and plucked, reaching for the pointy teeth that I came for.

I gave them no notice after that, content with the notion that they wouldn’t ambush me from behind and continued on my back and forth duck in a shooting gallery ways, looking here and there and coming away from the two and a half hours with the largest haul yet. A woman was there doing the same as I, but she wasn’t interested in the teeth, just fossils. She told me about horses teeth, alligator pieces, etc….and my mind kept wondering why there would be horses teeth in the ocean, let alone alligator. I didn’t ask, just merely chatted for a moment and then kept moving on. I let my thoughts wander while I was here, as I always do and was constantly surprised by the twists and turns they took. I couldn’t write here as it’s a bit hot for the tablet, and now knee deep in water technology and H2O don’t play well together, let alone the 90 degree heat, and I suppose that was okay too. This moment was meant for being at one with the motion of the ocean, for letting my thoughts move where they wished to, and for just breathing in this amazing moment. The clarity of the water, the blue of the sky, and the finds that had surfaced after days before, Hermine had turned the water to the color of mud. Things resumed to where they always had been, and without the waves you could see the bottom the ocean and the shells and fish below so distinctively.

This place gives me peace, and seems to give it’s gift when most needed. I wish I could share it with you, perhaps in reading this you can get the sense that you are here too. Close your eyes, slip into the warmth of the water and enjoy….and don’t forget your sunscreen. I’ve a great farmers tan to show for my time….now I just have to get those shoulders some color. I am striped…..and laughing about that too.

Peace and blessings.

Grains of words

The words

driven by the emotion of action

whipping their sting like sand in wind

can only hurt if you let it.

To not agree with position

but to respect the freedom to express

will start less fires if set free untethered,

if not given the fuel,

they simply blow away-

for it is in retort that pain is inflicted

where acknowledgement given

is like air and paper tossed on a dwindling fire.

I set free the things I see

the words I hear which I cannot agree

for if I hold it within

the consuming will occur

and bits of soul will blow

with sorrow into the sky

and I choose to hold the pieces of the soul intact

patchwork at times but complete

and I watch the wind blow the grains

as I wave goodbye with the storm that moves past

and I can walk away in peace

knowing I was just a witness

to something that wasn’t meant to be

a piece of the me

who is still in the process

of becoming.

The storms move in and through our lives

we buckle down and prepare for what we can

let go of what doesn’t matter

gather close what does,

like words and action

I live in my truth but it is mine,

never expecting another to take it as their own

but I share freely for those who take

for it is given in love

and that above all, is all that is important.

Sending peace and love to any living in conflict with the world, others, etc…..there’s so much negative in the world….I choose to swim in the sea of love, hope you join me…the water’s beautiful (or it will be after Hermine goes away and restores my luscious blue green sea to itself).

Watching and waiting

Green water greets liquid thoughts

washing through the dried landscape

sitting and wondering the next steps

the prints in the beach

often washed away

and the new impressions created

in directions unintended

but needed.

Watching and waiting

knowing the truth that settles in below the blue

and the waves course in and out

like the feelings and emotions that flow

rain swollen skies at bay

waiting for the steps to walk away

into the shelter of peace and calm

before the thunder heard

and the lightning reaching across

within the safety of the embrace

of familiarity

welcoming like an old friend

waiting to say hello.

I visit often these places of truth

the voices that speak across the universe

guiding me into the rocking sea

scent and sight entwined to hold close

this home I’ve come to know

and love more than you know,

more than I could think possible

watching and waiting

for my return

to now.


Do we move to rest

silky like water that washes over our smooth thoughts

feeling the waves settle below our limbs

gently rocking us into the deepest night

cast ashore in forgotten dreams

that reignite when eyes grow heavy

do we drift on seamless seas

where day meets night

and thoughts become our reality.

Do we sit and watch the play of winds

whistling with the rhythm set by the tides

palette of colors in clouds burned by the sun

and cooled by the lavender hues

of nights coming advance

where I sit silently on the remains

of today and the grains of granite and shell fragments

bury my toes into wet castles created

by the barrier of leg as it tries in vain

to go around

yet becomes a part of stationary soul

that once lived

now smooth and light from years of turmoil

rolled about in a sea of anger and peace

and set down in the storm

a final place to rest

to become part of the beauty that is

a view of a lens.

Night Moves

She stood there in the fading orange yellow light

turquoise bikini in a setting summer field

dressed in water as she watched

the young man watch her,

that certain age when a girl knows

she’s working on the moves to capture

the joy of a young mans mind and soul

as she ducks under before surfacing

to seek his eye once more.

I had been there once so very long ago,

yet not as practiced in my shy girl routine

which was ingrained and boys

were merely a passing thought out of reach.

She smiles and looks away as the yellow slips lower

and the crowd on the jetty

seemingly like camels in a desert background

stand and look the other way at the show

while a young girl turns and walks beyond the waves

to the waiting shore beyond

without a backward glance

grabbing a towel around her slender growing frame

and disappears into the night

moving without a sound

as he watches her slip between trees

vanishing beyond view

and the sun too bids adieu

to the critics who gave a glowing review

of the now ended show

and perhaps a boy now dreams this night

of a pretty blue two pieced girl with long brown hair

and curves that work the night moves

into a memory.