Life thoughts

I want to be those beautiful people
sitting on the ferry
moving seamlessly through the channel
heading for the dunes of the ocean beyond.
Transplanted people,
from where I hail
yet they are tanned and smiling
wrinkled and happy in their leather
bronze skin
kissed by the ocean winds.
I want to grow old
walking down the beach
stopping constantly to pluck a shell
or a sharks tooth
while you wait for me a little way ahead,
always patient
smiling at the prize I find.
I spend more time looking down to gaze
at the way the water that rushes over my feet
churning up treasures
foaming froth moving in and out
as I tuck another in my pocket,
my shorts wet on one side from the
abundant gifts I’ve found.
I want to be here when I grow old,
living peacefully at the water’s edge
would I buy a grand bottle
huge and open for my treasures
and tell myself it is time to move on
only once it is full,
and what of the day when the last piece
no longer fits,
I think then I would buy another
and then another
and never give up until the last treasure
is in place,
until I am ready to say
it is enough.
The waves and tide
would still move in and out
if I were no longer there
to feel the wind
to see the stars and moon,
to awake with the rising sun
moving through life
still in search of more,
never to rest
never to let it go.

thoughts after a morning walk on the beach, watching the old couples move along searching like me for the treasures at their feet, with their shovels and laughter and the peace of this place fills me with a quiet joy.

In my room-Pieces of self

I have always held close
the pieces of my world
that hold meaning
though memories are often not enough
I have a special place
where I see each day
Pieces of self
a place to visit.
A Gullah clothes pin doll
her message love, most important of all.
A stuffed honey bee bear
a childish reminder of my mother.
A cup full of seashells,
ah the ocean breeze and treasures I hold so dear.
A shot glass from a trip
down Route 66 filled with stones of red
and colors places my feet have stood upon.
A colorful round, piece of necklace
from younger hipper days…oh the stories of then.
A verse from Crazy Horse memorial
“this is where my people lay” brought tears to my eyes
as I stood on the mountain and envisioned his dream.
A porcelain angel of courage
a gift in a battle to live
conquering cancer she fills my heart with hope.
A photo of the man who meant the world to me,
the ship of stability when the seas got rocky
my anchor through life,
up until the end.
A photo of my yesterday self and her mother. Younger years with the cigarette, gone from my fingers for years. The Birkenstocks still sit comfortably to see me on my wanderings.
Above, the Jack Daniels jug
emptied not by this girl, but filled with silver saving for a dream I have not yet put my finger on, perhaps a trip to collect more memories, new places to see, new friends to meet.
Around it lays a bell, I was told from India, it has a pretty little ring when I wear it, but the dogs don’t like it much.
A room deodorizer from London that I actually wear on my clothes, the blend of aromas intrigue me and when asked what is that amazing scent, I smile and say, oh, something on my shelf.
Bahoma I think is the name. It brings me to comfort on mornings so rough.
A piece of sea glass, so hard to find anymore with all of the plastic abound. I get so giddy when I encounter a piece. Still made by the ocean and not man-made by machines to sell cheap in a store.
A small cedar jewelry chest filled with ticket stubs from the concerts I’ve gone to. (very long ago)
A wheat penny found sitting on top of the grass by the driveway that I walk past every day, where it came from, it doesn’t matter. 1951 the year, I am still waiting to see the meaning of that.
Some look at it and see clutter,
I look at it and see a shrine to the pieces of my life that mean so very much.
Just thought you may want to get a glimpse into my life and a few of my trinkets I hold dear. Like a field trip to my little piece of love. Welcome friends, so glad you could stop by and visit.
What do you hold dear, do you have a shelf/shrine to your trinkets? I would love to hear about them. Peace and Love.

Jar of dreams

Somewhere within
The smallest dusty crevice
Of my mind
Lies a small jar
Filled to overflowing
With questions to rhyme or reason.
Potions for healing
Letters lost and found
Ideas that seemed to shrivel
And get tossed aside,
Keep company with the vessel
As entwined in eternity
All a part of the whole.
Sometimes I cross the bridge
Into the looking glass
To refresh my mind
Of what is hidden,
Sometimes returning with a speck
Of an answer
Or a piece of enchantment,
Sometimes I go and nothing is there.
My little jar
Plays at hide and seek
Amusing me with the antics
Of an unruly child,
Yet I love this place.
My inner corner of goodness,
dreams and wishes smoothed into a tired mind,
Comforting energy.
The visit fills me with pieces of whimsy
Laughter and calming
Peace and love.
I often wonder if I am the only one
Who has a place like this
Put away in the corner
Sometimes forgotten
But when revisited ah, that joy found
When the jar spills over
And you carry away the overflow,
Your little pieces of yesterday
I don’t visit often but I know it is there,
Like an attic with treasures
The jar of dreams of my mind.