Scooping dreams

Different from others

nestled amongst the large and small

from where you came we know not

only that your words give thought

with each time you move into the corners

like smooth motioned gathering

cradled gently in your hold

no sharp edges to be found

in the daydreamers reverie.

Mixed images with a heart of love

you stir the soul bringing from the depths

like the cream of goodness rising to the top,

moving in and around

folding into each memory a pinch of sweetness

to be remembered

like a spoon full of love overflowing

with the shine and sparkle of a new day rich

and we lift you with a smile

tucking you in our hands and hearts

sharing the masterpiece

of a delicate creation

made with joy,

the taste of a treasure

flavored with love.

This began with the act of drying dishes and finding one spoon that we got from somewhere, not matching the rest but large and easy to use for making everything, in this case, dough for my husbands bagels….he does make great bagels and I look forward tomorrow to breakfast….stirred with love ❤ and handcrafted by the master chef of my life ❤

Rolled

I remember the scent of hay

growing in fields below a setting sun,

waiting

for that moment when ready,

ripe,

ripped,

cut,

severed and laying beneath the sun

drying out,

curling into a remnant of self.

Words pass through days

reaching in deep

pulling out the moisture

the life blood

the force that gave life

and with a last gasp

rolled into mounds

to serve purpose

in new ways under a winter sun,

brittle and cold

yet ready.

Rough and edged with pieces of yesterday

cut down from the beauty of the growth

fodder for life

still of use

sustenance for the hooved beast,

food for the circle

the chain that moves round,

I should be happy to be

when so many lands lay barren.

For I am a part of all,

it is I

and I am stacked and in circles

waiting for the next move.

Somewhere between here and nowhere (part 2)

I looked down as my precious phone shattered into a few pieces, battery flying into the street and screen cracked like a bad car windshield after a nasty wreck. I only paused a moment before looking up at the man emerging from the shadows. Brown well-worn cowboy boots began at the pavement and tight-fitting jeans rose on long firm legs, also well-worn and nicely faded from the looks of it. I dragged my gaze ever upward. He stepped into the light and I could see a face as shocked as mine staring at me.

“Jesus H Christ missy, whatcha yelling about?  I’m just heading out from work, that’s all. Hush up before you wake the dead. I promise not to mug ya or worse so just shush please” and a smile slowly crept up on what I saw was a quite attractive face, in a young hollywood heart-throb  sort of way, dimples that must have gone straight to the back of his head. I closed my mouth then, slightly embarrassed at my display but hell, there’s a hand in the garbage can. It had to have come from somewhere. He took a step forward and I took a slight one backwards, feeling the earth crashing into my back as I fell off the curb and onto my backside. Matthew McConaughey wanna-be came running over and reached for my hand and at that point I allowed him to help me up from this graceful display of myself.

“There’s a hand in the garbage can” was all I could muster at that point. His eyes opened wide and he turned to look behind him at the old metal can.

“Oh God, not again” he muttered as he pulled me upright and then he strode over to the can. Lifting the lid and grasping his nose as the smell hit him. “Come on, we gotta get inside, quick-like please” and he shoved me forward towards the alley, grabbing my bag off the bench as we moved. “What about my cell phone? It’s got all my numbers and photos in there, I’ve gotta find a way to get it fixed,” I turned back to go get it. “No, you stay here, it’s not safe out here and I know my way around, I’ll get it. Wait here, okay?” and he strode back down the alley. I listened but heard only the wind moving the leaves and some remnants of trash nearby, staring up to see darkened windows on this two-story building and the stars above through the crevice. “Come on, let’s go in before they see us, if they haven’t already” and he brushed by me and obediently like a silly dog I followed.

He turned to the left where the building ended and pulled out a wad of keys. The metal clanging seeming to fill the air suddenly with sound, the loud click and turn of the tumbler reverberating in my ears. With a slight shove he opened the door and walked in. “Follow me, just be careful. It’s pretty late and as I can see how much of a ballerina you are on your feet and don’t want you to trip and trash the kitchen or to wake anyone up.” He must have been smiling as he said it because it was light-hearted and obviously not meant in a mean sort of way. Up ahead I could see a faint light. The smell of grease and cleaning solution was strong where we stood and he must have reached over and turned on a switch. A bare bulb above our head lit the small room and I could see a three tub sink and a stack of stainless steel pans and bowls set up on edge drying. SOS pads from a tipped box lay on a shelf and a big Yellow bottle of Joy, reminding me suddenly of my grandmother’s house when I was a kid. I hadn’t seen Joy in years, soap or otherwise.

We walked through a hallway and came out another door into the restaurant itself. He didn’t turn any lights on in here and walked to the front windows and peered out. He stood there for a minute and then turned back to me. I just stood there wondering what the heck I was doing here, with a stranger in a restaurant out of the 60’s and why on Gods green earth was there a severed hand in the garbage can out front. I cleared my throat but no words would come out. I opened my mouth, then closed it once more.

You’re out there screaming a few minutes ago and now you’re speechless. What’s up with that Miss? he said with a chuckle and moved towards me. His hand reached out and that killer smile was once again plastered on his face.  Chad, my name is Chad and this here restaurant is my Grandma’s. Her names Alice, but she doesn’t work here anymore, and he started singing the song and laughing quietly. Okay, she died last year, that’s why she doesn’t work here anymore, nor is she here anymore technically but I know she is in every pore of this old joint. I’m trying to hang onto it and keep it in the family. I spent my fair share of time here as a kid and this place is the closest thing I know to home, I refuse to give up and let her go now. Come too far and seen too much. Besides, have to keep it as Alice ’cause Chad’s restaurant just doesn’t have the same vibe. He laughed then and waited for my response. Suddenly I didn’t know what the heck to say in response. It was too strange and I knew he’d laugh or get all weird about it, I mean what were the odds, right?

My name is Allison, most just call me Allie. I didn’t dare tell him that my Grandmother and mother had always called me Alice, especially if I was in trouble for something, which was quite often from what I could recall. I could see how he felt about his Grandma and I didn’t want him to think I was mocking him.

Well, nice to meet you Allie, I don’t like the circumstances of this here meeting, that’s all. But that in itself is a long story and I’m a bit tired and it’d take too long to tell. How ’bout we just hunker down here tonight if that’s okay with you and when morning shows her pretty face, we’ll call the cops and go from there. Don’t like doing things in the dark and I don’t trust the cops 100% so we will take care of it then. It’s not like it’s going anywhere, right?

He went in the corner of the room to a closet, pulled out a blanket and tossed it to me. We’ll just push the table out and you can stretch out in the booth, it should fit you and I just had ’em redone so they should be comfortable. I’ll sleep over here. I promise not to do anything or get funny with you, besides, I’ve heard your screaming and the tenants upstairs would call the cops in a second. Then again, I’m surprised they hadn’t earlier.

I set my bag and the cell phone pieces on the table, the sheen of the plastic tablecloth shining from the back room light and I pulled the blanket over me. I knew I wouldn’t be dreaming of french fries or greasy burgers, hell, I’d be surprised if I even slept but it did feel good to get prone. I looked over at Chad but he had turned the other way and I could hear him breathing slow and deep. How the heck could he just do that? There’s a hand outside belonging to God knows who and he sleeps as if it was nothing in the world. I closed my eyes and fell into a fitful sleep, Alice’s Restaurant playing in my mind.

To be continued….

Into the rabbit hole

I felt the sun bearing down on my body, moving the brush back and forth against blue tile as cold water splashes like diamonds upon my skin, I stared into the depths of the azure water, feeling the coolness upon me, spreading peace through me like a gentle storm.

My mind keeps drifting into places I had not thought about for many years, memories of a childhood, of the scent of the sneaker smudged yet shining gym floors as light flooded in from windows two stories above my head, the image of the silken material draped in a perfect circle, its color a drab army green, the parachute that lay waiting for the games to begin.

Children stood around this circle. Talking amongst themselves and laughing and I remember just gazing at the color, how it seemed so foreign there against the brightly colored painted stripes and circles of the basketball court. I did not know what was to happen, standing as a mere spectator around the cloth I watched, waiting patiently. The whistle blew and I felt a hand upon my shoulder, was told to go lay in the middle, the next sacrificial lamb I remember after the fact, but the smiles of friends and the nudges from those beside me sent me forward to become a part of this challenge. The other girl, I do not recall her name, lay beside me in the middle of this silken circle and the children on the edges grabbed hold of the material and lifted. They began to moving around the cloth in a circle, as the material gathered up tighter and tighter, closing off the light from sight and at one point separating me from the other child within this cocoon. The outer children kept moving until they could move no more, the material all tied tight and we lay within, not knowing up from down, locked in tight.

The whistle blew and the command was shouted to work our way out. I remember the kicking and screaming of the girl somewhere beside me beyond a curtain of silk and how I kept flailing and ripping at the fabric, trying to break free. I think I was crying, I think I panicked and in the end, I believe we failed to emerge as expected. I do not remember anything else after that.

As a child I could never wear slippers or night-clothes that covered my feet. My mother would have to cut them off as I would wake drenched in sweat from fighting to free myself, to breathe. This was that feeling again, except it was all of me, in this maddening rabbit hole, no escape, no light. I do not know why this memory keeps lingering today, as I am feeling so very peaceful, under a vast blue sky, working beside a neon bright blue pool. Perhaps it is just in need of escaping onto the paper, to become words so that it can be set free once and for all, to know that I am not a small helpless child and that I can make choices of what I wish to do. To have the conviction and strength I lacked then, to plunge down the rabbit hole and face the darkness I had feared or to remain on the edge and just opt out. Universal reminders taught to self through time and space, and to take one last plunge into the darkness, to turn on the light and know that it will all be all right. I am learning to let go, to dive in and to breathe.

Seeds

Untethered we spread our seeds

tiny fragments of a whole spent

cast upon air through the universe

waiting to land and be planted.

Words and smiles sent

time and distance obsolete

drifting through space we find

that place that’s perfect,

the shelter of home

comforted.

We burrow in our wishes

held gently in our hands we watch

the wind blows far and wide

the blessings of love and peace

through word and thought,

planted deep

to grow in time

all things wonderful.

Found

The winds finally died down to where I could venture out beyond the shades which protected the doors. Lacey needed to go out and do her business and we were both too tired from being cooped up indoors for the day and a half it took the storm to ride out. I didn’t know what to expect, 90 mile an hour winds had tormented my sleep and I was stressed and tired and just wanted to breathe some fresh air. The power had gone out almost as soon as the storm started so I knew one of the branches on the old oaks must have knocked it loose. I unbolted the shades and Lacey rushed past me, nearly knocking me over with her 125 pounds of muscle. I hope the fence held, but Lacey was pretty good at coming when called and staying in bounds. The clouds let a little sun through and I held my face up to the welcoming light. The house gets dark when the shutters are up and we hadn’t gotten evacuated, being too far from any water bodies that would have risen, I was thankful for that. Ken was still out of town which suited me just fine, with no power I didn’t have to listen to his constant bitching and moaning, and I could just try to remain composed hanging out with Lacey. Ken isn’t my husband, just a boyfriend I’ve had for too many years. He can be mean and loving at the same time but since our child disappeared 9 years ago, I hadn’t the energy or the heart to start fresh again. So I enjoy his work because it keeps him on the road for a week at a time. We knew the storm was coming but he had to get his load up to New York and I told him I’d be fine, had the neighbors around if I needed help and he agreed that he would stay up there while I faced the onslaught of Mother Nature.

Lacey was barking at something and I looked around to see part of the fence blown down, or should I say crushed by half of the oak tree in the corner. The roots were upended and the power line lay up in the branches. I rushed over to see what Lacey was barking at and worried at the same time if any of the lines were reaching the ground. If anything happened to Lacey, I’d die…she’s my only baby and I’ve had her since she was a pup. A gift Ken brought home from the road for baby Grace, saying all kids need a dog to grow up with. Grace was one year old and it was hard enough taking care of a baby and then to throw a dog that needed training too was rough, I told him so but he said he couldn’t take it back and I didn’t have the heart to find a new home for it. In a way I’m glad I didn’t because when Grace was stolen, Lacey was the one who kept me sane. I try not to think about those days, the open window to her nursery and the years that passed with no leads just crushes me. I turned the corner to the house where Lacey had her head in the roots of the tree and she looked up at me with a baseball in her mouth. I laughed out loud because leave it to Lacey to find a toy. She tends to eat them so we never leave them laying around and here she wags her tail at me with that goofy look, like come on Mom, let’s play. I told her to put it down  because I still had to survey the rest of the damage. “Come here Lace,” I called to her and she took one last look at the ball and followed me. The rest of the yard had little damage which was good all things considering, and only a few shingles had come off the roof. “Lets go Lace and get these shutters down, you and me, okay?” I said to her but she turned and ran back to the tree, wagging her tail again and picked up the ball. “Okay, just one throw, then we have work to do here” and I reached down and took the old weathered ball. It had an odd feel to it and I turned it slowly in my hands, scraping some of the sand and mud off of it only to realize it was not a ball but a skull. I dropped it as I screamed and grabbed Lacey before she could pick it up again. “Come on, let’s go in girl” I said and pulled her by the collar towards the house. I felt Lacey pull hard against my hand and she slipped out of her collar and began running back to the tree, I could only follow. “I need to call the police, Lace, come on, let’s go already” but she began to dig and dig some more. I caught up to her and pushed her out of the way while peering into the hole at what looked like sticks but with their shape, I knew they were more bones. “Come on dammit” I said to her and as she looked up at me, I saw it. A dirty silver locket dangled from her mud filled mouth and I screamed as the tears fell from my eyes, my hands shook as I took it from her and could just see that beautiful name that I had given her, Grace.

Spirit

Do we measure our thoughts like spices

a little of this and a little of that

ground together to make new seasoning

new patterns of a shifting universe.

If I were to deconstruct Van Gogh to create an image

of where my thoughts reside,

would they resemble a cosmic eye watching

as the world transpires

moving round and round

in its usual way-effortless and without thought

just being.

I gather the things that make me smile

tucking them away in the star-dust cobwebs,

pilfering them away like a thief

for I know when I need it most

I will lift the lid and peer within

searching for that special something,

a sound, a scent or perhaps a memory of a faded dream.

As the incense burns out before barely beginning

the jasmine fills rooms of blue

silky smoke just enough to linger for me,

not enough to choke

and I am there again

yesterday when art and words and soothing days

eased by like a silent movie

and I watched in rapt attention wondering

where did those days go?

I swirl here in these thoughts

Starry night broken apart and reformed

into a new quiet peace

that finds me grateful

for its essence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ethereal mind

Slipping into states
Caught between wake and dream
Wind howls like banshee shrieks
Cut the night
Like knives.
Black grey cloud in endless movement
Shutter in the ceiling
The thought runs loose
Slipping bounds of tight wrapped shrouds
She walks in silence
Unseen.
Walking walls in mystic lands
No place to rest
And empty chairs still warm
From the seat of thought
That rose unaided,
Cautiously stepping
Between the drops
Of sideways rains.
Bare branches grasp
The dying leaves
Of muted hues of death
Clinging a final moment
Before the fall into
A maelstrom of invisible motion,
There
Then gone
Sucked away by the connection,
Intubation by universal chain
But she doesn’t understand the words,
The verse that plays
Somewhere in her mind,
Broken chorus lullabies,
Her history sinking
Like ships in gale force winds,
Taking to the depths,
Into the darkness
It all descends.

Artwork found at : http://www.ufunk.net/en/photos/brooke-shaden/

Bean at peace

Thirteenth day
Full moon High again
Kings reign as
Olive burning fills air.
Rain falling
Cold descends
Coffee empty
Dog journeys to who knows where.
Friends smile
Raise a toast
Tent blows
Chairs topple
Soldier returns
A child gone.
Talking heads in suits
Blah blah blah
Say what?
Pup rolls in something wicked
This way comes
Fourteenth reprieve
Insanity returns
Over again
Over again,
Screen off track
Naked invisible,
Dog confused
Shake head
Close eyes
Click heels three times
Peace train take me
Home again.
Coffee brews as scent removes
The smell of despair
Washed clean once more,
Out of sand and back
In line
Life divine
In a dreamers eye.