Endless search

Layer upon layer
water sits restless beyond view
walking
waiting to find
the end of the night,
searching for the peace.
We stack our dreams like stones
rounded and worn
time passes us by regardless
of thought or want or need,
something that always just is
plain and simple
as simple as can be,
yet we fight the flow
treading water and fighting the current
carrying away the things beyond reach,
and we slip beneath now and then
relaxing and tired of the fight,
we get pushed upward and out of the fray
surprised by the path we now find,
cut into new scenes
same old but different somehow,
the new jungles we cut through
deep and thick and murky
as the air hangs as heavy as the heart,
we forge on
knowing the answer is beyond our sight,
we just have to believe
that it will all be okay,
nothing we can change
’cause life will move on
like tomorrow
and the following
and so on….
our endless search will find
what is and will be meant to be.

Colors of life

By the sea

hues find me with eagerness

filling in the blanks with drops

captured image on cotton of white,

creation of beauty

sweeping me away

the boundaries I try to stay within.

Tie-dye shell of my hearts whimsy

I close my eyes and see the scene

a hundred souls running towards the sea

free from the shell

bliss in being alive,

we swim into the unknown

taking chances and learning with each stroke

how to swim in waves of colors unknown.

I hear the sound of waves from memory,

sweeping me over their frothy waves

and carrying me towards the setting sun

low on horizon

the internal compass knows the way

as I follow the stars

as I may.

My last art class for now, a sea turtle with an amazing group of women and although I do need a bit of touch up on the eye where the splatter got a bit too close (had to rush to work and should have taken the extra minute of care) I am quite happy with this almost finished product and thought I’d share. Happy turtles make me smile 🙂 peace and blessings, K

this and that

Wet on wet

color thrown about like random thoughts

little here and little there

a bit of this and that.

Salt falls on puddles random like rain

and we never know in the end

what will remain of our pieces of self

washing back and forth

steady movement forming rainbows of peace

and I gaze to the jasmine beyond

knowing it’s one step closer to understanding

and life will keep moving

like wet paint on soft cotton,

smooth and flowing

or beautiful in the accidental splash

of a word cast on the world,

it all falls down as we let ourselves go

to flow into the rhythm

of another hour passed by

unaware of it all

except the here and now.

More time today practicing with my watercolors, I’m thinking I may turn into the tie dye queen of art yet 🙂 but loving it and always learning with each stroke, surprised at times by what comes from a blank slate.

Calming 

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
poisons
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.

Night skies

Streaking past eyes
Perpetually watching
streaking stars race through
dust of the night things
glittering like diamonds.
Purple reigns in her mind
time flying past
out of sight
and the mind soothed
as the color flows
mid spring skies awaken
with the coming of dawn
just another star that fell
on distant lands
in a universe high.

My second art piece created today, practicing with the sea salt in the sky, and masking fluid meteors flying by….having fun, another working day, heigh ho….and off I go.

Upon a thought of movement

We are quicksand lives

mired and murky in their naivety

waiting for the next flash of something

anything to change the colors that spin

out of our control

like dancing fireflies which mesmerize

we fall silent in their beauty,

in their simplicity.

Jealous in fact I think,

as they flit about like monarchs

so seldom seen yet still revered,

we watch in fascination

enraptured by their beauty

longing to be light

buoyant like air.

Skies change like minds

suddenly

quickly as each day passes

and we move in our directions

when the light changes granting pardon

and we scurry across like rabbits watched

by waiting dogs,

never knowing when the texter may move forward

unaware at what transpires behind the wheel

though in the wrong

clueless to the life that moves

beyond the capsule

of airbags and roll bars,

a hapless victim of the new day.

We heed the call within

at times understanding the words unspoken,

to breathe and move

in an unhurried pace,

to reflect and embrace

to just be at one for a minute

while the stars pass by

unnoticed at times

when framed in the image

of a spring time moon.

Painting life

Colors caught in a favorite pose,

moonlit skies on clouds it rests

caught like a marble suspended

I learn to flow through the brush.

Where I’ve been on quiet days

pondering the landscape of sun and haze

mixing and matching the color to mood

purple sky hue.

This is my first official watercolor painting, still in progress (mostly working the water) and I was actually quite pleased with the results, which for me is saying a lot. Just in case you’ve been wondering where I’ve been, one more class next week and practice, practice and more practice needed. Moon over water….by me.

Hidden signs

Waiting in his garden abode

watching the comings and goings

blessed in his peace

his eyes gaze forward

as the flowing jasmine crowns the mind.

Years pass by and he finds and gives

a calm to those who happen upon

the soul of the post and green flowing wall,

solitary is his game

being is his name.

Nestled in the jasmine

the scent lay heavy on the air

without a care we walk quietly by

more entranced with star like blooms

he says nothing as we move on

resting in his spot

a regular in this place.

 

Last man standing

We became those,

the last standing remnant of yesterday,

dinosaurs of our existence,

caught between a song and today

for there was nothing else

we could fathom.

We were born this way

so the beauty of each song had to say,

voices without faces

it just was the way it was

and we accepted it that way,

For there was no depth,

no stress,

nothing that got caught up in the way,

and we could sleep at night knowing

we were young

unique,

the last man standing

like the birches in the meadows,

peeling from the outside in,

the scent deep on the air,

we were just that

simplistic like a memory,

got caught in the way.

I sit here today,

the jasmine heavy on the air

like thoughts on the mind,

and tomorrow is yet another day

and it will be what it will be,

and somewhere within,

beneath the cuticle that’s torn,

through each bit of ache

we know it will regain

its strength again.

I know not always the right things to say,

I only can feel what flows like a stream-

slipping past the silent trees that watch

like the nightman waiting for drama,

nothing wicked this way comes

except that which we invite with open doors,

and closed minds,

time drifts down as the night has descended

and a sad country song plays on the disc,

why not me?

and I wonder,

why not?