If not now….

If we wait….

time passes by like a phantom storm

cascading minutes we try to gather like crumbs,

if not now

then when,

do we wait saying it will be there,

when we’re ready

but not right now,

not this very second

the light within asks

again,

when?

Mind splatters its story on pages

one after another and the skies beyond grey

and dusk lights the night with the demise of day

and we look around to find

so much has passed

as we dove in so deep

drowning in the need to release,

to get it out there,

make it right and let it live,

unfolding like presents opened

we stop to breathe

wondering when we had given that much thought,

to take in air

and look around at the eyes that watch,

wondering if we can play,

if we can stop for a moment

and just be.

The fire within can consume in an instant,

the flicker smoldered

before catching on a draft,

running on adrenaline before it slips away,

we stack the pages neatly

written in the cloud

we smile pleased

at another speed bump passed over

slowing down to look for the next in the future,

we play hopscotch with our days,

looking for the end space

to make the win.

Began writing my book, not a poetry one as originally intended and finding I lose hours absorbed in the stories, the minutia, making timelines and creating a flow. A humbling experience that at times seems so overwhelming but I am thoroughly enjoying the new “creativity bug” that has bitten….now to just find more time to read, blog, paint, live, etc…..thanks for being patient with me my friends, working my way around to visit. Peace and blessings, K

Photo taken looking up through the ceiling of the butterfly conservatory in Key West a few years back.

Declaration

Shelved quietly on a dark space

I feel her eyes follow me,

beckoning to something deeper within-

soundless voice whispers her intent

to be carefully held and admired.

The demeanor intrigues

in a gentle soft palette backdrop

standing and silently watching

something important has begun.

Skies alive and waters calm

she becomes a part of all she sees,

a simple soul that knows of bigger things

just beyond the edge of her world

beyond the faded wood

her protection for so many years,

a landscape of beauty

in a foreign yet familiar land.

On impulse yet not quite

feeling the warmth in my fingers

I turn her over for safe keeping till done,

gathering her for the short trip home

the blue room her new space

giving inspiration unexpectedly

she speaks to me of greater expectations

and as she watches

I try to deliver in my meager way,

a gift of beauty speaking

through the poets words.

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Yesterday on my day off, I went to drop some things off at a local thrift shop and then went over to the Salvation Army store and found this beautiful image on a shelf behind a stack of misc. art. I sat her on the shelf in a brighter light and pondered her, 30% off and knew for some reason she needed to be a part of my world. The artist was William Ladd Taylor and it was framed back in Penn Yan NY at a studio that from what I could tell, was around in the 40’s. My print is a bit faded and the back paper is crumbling, not sure if I dismantle the picture, would it be brighter beneath the glass. The top photo was found on the internet and I think would have been taken of the original, mine is a bit faded but loved none the less. I stare at it and her face is filled with such a quiet peace. Now if I could only paint a sky that stunning. Welcome home dear lady.

Beyond the facade

You must have been a beautiful baby

the song plays quietly in the background of my mind

I hum along and wonder,

well, aren’t they all when you think about it?

When it comes down to a heart beating

and the miracle of cells dividing

multiplying

creating something so unique,

and why is it only

babies that can be beautiful

for when we see the dirty unkempt homeless man

or the woman with the missing limb,

what changes in the mind to see

anything less than the beauty that lies within?

Why does the judgement happen

for the way a person looks or seems

as if through fault of their making

as sickness ravages and shades of red welts rise,

turned to purple and the swelling overwhelms,

yet the eyes that gaze into yours

relay the kindness and love felt from within

and the tears fall from a simple acceptance

the glow begins to form around the soul.

I’ve heard upon view of a not so pretty child,

must have been hit by the ugly stick a time or two…

childhood taunts come back to my mind

and I am thankful for the passage of time

that allowed my soul to grow into understanding,

when faced with a view that invokes stares,

I feel compelled to hold out my hand

and with a smile simply say,

I can only help you find what you seek,

but it can’t change much

for you are already beautiful enough.

A middle-aged woman came into work the other day searching for a few items, her head bulged from beneath her scarf, a large purple addition of her head which was pressing down and almost engulfing her eyes. I think years ago I would have stared with mouth agape not knowing what to say, but am thankful for the years of life lessons which have left me with a loving and understanding heart.  I held out my hand to her as she said she could barely see, her husband standing quietly at the front of the store, allowing her to come with me as I guided her around answering any questions and finding what it was she requested. At check out she started crying and thanked me for not making her feel like a monster, for smiling and making her laugh and that now she would feel more comfortable going out into the world again. I asked if her sight would come back, she replied yes, after all the non-stop infections stopped. I gave her a blessings, squeezed her hand and as she left, thanked the big guy above for teaching me tolerance and love. She must have been a beautiful baby, for they all are, even grown up.

Softest strength

∞Infinite movement the earth in life

slipping in to sift the thoughts of a new day

carefully plucking the strongest of dreams

and letting the balance

wash quietly away.

∞The whispered words of night are heard

in recollected stories told through a fog and haze

as thunder rolls so far away

echoes of itself felt

as its energy dissipates.

∞We divide the fragments of dawn to dusk

below surfaces where danger lurks

while above white stallions race to shore

and clouds above again re-form

speaking to those who listen,

awaiting a coming storm.

∞Monoliths stand for a thousand years

battered by the tides sent calling

etched and formed before our birth

we cannot but help to stare at the view

seeming small and soft as we compare

the sand to stone and fossil found,

strong enough to outlast the end

as time winds past the minutes show,

the unobserved still linger on

if only in thoughts held in trembling hands.

∞The gathering of specimens that once had lived

now kept in polished jars and waiting

for the next pondering to trickle down,

the wonder and awe still enchanting

of ancient articles found.

Photo found on Pixabay.

 

The end tether

Together searching down corridors

colors and words flow faster than light,

five hundred-dollar hair and a flair

for not knowing when to stop.

Swirling like a dervish

up and down like a ping-pong ball,

light shining from golden teeth

she speaks of God who sits beside

on her shoulder

and I wonder why I feel

the compression of the energy

draining away till I move past her

each step so hard I move towards the light

of the sun that found the plate-glass window

leaving the wound top spinning

behind me.

God bless you another says

and I look confused as I hadn’t sneezed

yet she gazes beyond me to the girl

and the sight as she sways and moves,

taking selfies of colors

wanting it all

as she dreams in her mind and speaks

to the silence around her,

the others stare and I compose

moving back towards the whirlwind

tornado girl up and down into her sky,

she smiles and asks Libra or Gemini

but I can only reply

Cancer

and she laughs out loud and says she should have known

for I exude the peace she searches for

yet hasn’t found

for the pills bringing her too far up

to feel she can get back down,

I keep distance as the pull of energy shifts

and I breathe in and out

letting her go about her moment

set free in the candy factory she says,

just wishing she had all the money in the world

to gorge on all she sees,

dyes and nails and pretty things

for inside she feels the ugliness that must be covered,

and she takes God in her hand

with a smile and a twirl

buys a few items but not all she wishes,

with not enough cash

and credit cards that speak denial,

leaves from where she came in.

Thoughts on a long event at work yesterday with a reformed junkie with a gorgeous dye job and gold teeth who spent so long in the store, taking pictures of hair colors, talking to herself, me and anyone who would listen (which was no one except me) and though I could feel the energy being sucked away from myself, had enough sense to walk away and gather up before engaging her again. A nice girl who has found God, has three children and a husband of 17 years waiting at home, but was a non-stop whirl of talk and movement. I do not know her name, but prayed for her and her family regardless. Just had to write something to get it out. Peace and blessings, K

 

Deeper….

We see what lies

above surfaces with eyes

that believe the shapes and contours

are all that is,

below so much larger than

the eye can see

in its finality

drop by drop

spilling away into the whole of the sea

blue movement on calm water

smooth emotion on rough seas.

We capture images of what we know

that which we can touch and call it true

yet knowing the unknown

believing in what we thought we knew to be ,

we slip below and go a little deeper

in awe of the splendor of what we find

as we slide into the knowledge

of so much more

than the writing on the wall,

we feel the sense of the universe speak

as it washes over our open minds,

fire and ice

the opposite ends of seasons

we try to hold on

as it slowly burns

or melts away into nothingness

except memory

falling water from our hands

and slipped out thoughts

like ink on paper,

we learn to embrace it all

for it is one in the end

and from the depths we arise to find

a simple minute has passed as we dream

and wake from the eternity of time

to find broken clocks and damp spots on the ground,

stepping in the puddles

of our existence.

Looking

We stand in silence

unseen against the backdrops of our unfurling lives

a barest breath discerned as we ponder

the prey of our memories that haunt still.

With ability to look round and back again

we pick the morsels of yesterday searching

for the meager crumb to bite onto,

what once seemed so small now multiplied

in the bounty of our wisdom

we are satiated.

We seem on surfaces so smooth

below the ripples of water nudged we find

the current that tears apart the path

pulling us into the tragedy of pondering yet again

the ageless tales brought forth from dark closets,

as the fever breaks and awareness overcomes

we sit in our pose of calm and peace

thankful for the sense to walk away unscathed

we let the memories loose

turning away not caring to watch

the final goodbye of the shadow.

Fading into

The night sweeps in with darkest dreams

in hazy images of places unseen

by a memory which cannot recall

much of anything at all.

What thoughts did Poe on writing find

through twisted years and phantom skies

where birds flew once then disappeared

and clocks that tick for a deafened ear.

We frame the dark in lighter hues,

set ghostly candles in musty rooms

whose flickering adds to the coming night

where a moon will shine on the endless fight

of here and there now gone from view

drifting into shadows as they do,

the whispers linger on humid air

as the moment finds in a new despair

to save the soul through words and hope

whilst empty lies the hangman rope

we tear it down and burn the threads

a funeral pyre for a dream that’s dead.

Feeling a bit gothic (in a good way if there is one) for some reason, ghostly image found on internet and upon seeing it, this poem appeared….

 

the lightness of being

We cast our bubbles to the sky

watching as they drift lazily through moving air

higher like thoughts that never end,

shining little lights like stars

glistening on a sea of blue

and gathering clouds wait for their gifts

till beyond the view they vanish

yet we know that somewhere out there

our wish moves to the heavens

with the lightness of being.

Years pass and we grow in ease

with fairy wings and magic wands

and tiaras worn with pride,

princesses we stay, forever young

laughing through the moments

a toast and hearing the voices of yesterday

speak to us through invisible lines

reaching out to hold our hearts

if only for but a few moments,

we tuck them away,

these memories made today

and give thanks for the moment

and the many more to follow,

light of being we move into new realms,

cherishing each step

and gazing into the distance

excited by the prospect of what is

and isn’t yet seen. ❤

Thoughts on my happy birthday and the pics that came out good enough to share. Peace and love, K (The young princess of course) 🙂  Fearless Fifty, YEAH BABY!!!! Bubbles, wings, and magic wands….priceless ❤

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Bits

We are but so simple,

grains of sand on beaches near and far

mixed and matched and part of a greater whole,

reflective in beauty of a peaceful nature,

and waiting

to be built into castles

for we must do it together,

as you can not build with one little bit,

but to gather it all,

shapes and sizes,

textures and colors

we rise beneath the blue of a summer sky

and knowing we are only temporary,

at some point washed away into the shelf

beyond and under we wait

calm in knowing that with love

anything can be attained,

as we give away our treasures

heart shaped words and sparkling thought,

we imprint ourselves upon the world

across oceans and streams

we become bits and pieces

scattered and loved

like the footprints left then washed clean

we are a part of the whole

a grain

so strong.