Swaying mantle of silence

We move in and out,

mere breath like wind through open windows

sill waiting to catch a bit of the morning light

while birds of a thousand feathers scatter

as the cat treads stealthily through the grass.

There is always that sense nearby,

the underlying lurking of things unsaid

and moods cast aside with unintentional force,

we become specters of self as feet move

tired in the damp and musty air.

Where has the cool wind gone that I recall,

night of dreams of eagerness through fear

as the words are lost in the shuffle of paper

and we suddenly see we are drowning in our quest,

taking charge before a hundred waiting faces

we close our eyes and slip away to the shadows

wondering where the ideas had come from and gone.

The lighthouse waits to show the way,

penned by a soul I know not well

and I will know her words for I am drawn

into the waves of passing days

and a continent away foreign and unknown,

I will come to know across this space and time

through yellowed pages of a dime-store book

left behind gently used

eager I will learn

what it is, this ghost of form

that called me to hear the wind of yesterday.

Strange dreams came calling last night and today by chance happened into a thrift store and bought a dirt cheap copy of Virginia Woolf’s “To the lighthouse” to read at my leisure. I have not every read any Woolf so looking forward to what I may find within the pages.

 

From here

We smooth the surface, filling in spaces

holes dug searching for answers,

outwit the worms for they will never feed

on this soul

for ash will blow on the wind and settle

back into part of the whole

as we stand and feel the energy rise

giving guidance and peace to the mind.

We are the dirt where unknown bones are buried

burrow through like the creatures residing

deep in the unknown,

snakes sleep in gaps where light never finds

and we too are connected

in our fears and our movement through

like curving waves undulating parting the grasses

we bask in the sun where we find it,

wondering how we had forgotten to remember

these moments of a solitary silence,

and words will rise like fog

burning off in the morning light

becoming like the dew that lies on mounds

burial grounds for yesterday,

damp and a ready feast

for the birds that sink their faces below earth

searching for sustenance,

moving to where it is that perhaps they hear

come here to this place below the towering tree

and find the gifts given,

crawling insects and worms to fuel

for another day of life.

Monday meandering thoughts on dirt (don’t ask me why, it just kept surfacing like a small hill) and life. Peace and blessings and a happy day to one and all ❤

Like dust of dreams

I awoke in the home of a new world

bodies of fractured dust blown on endless winds,

storm clouds gather to wash me away

cleansing the soul of eternity.

Built on memories through time

yesterday speaks with a thousand tongues,

who we are

what we’ve become

just another piece in the spectrum of it all.

We climb to skies that seek us out

higher in thoughts we float on calm,

dappled skies in black and white

photographs and still life trapped on film,

turn page after page as day is through.

Where we’ve been we sometimes see

in the mind of dreams we chance to know

the truth of lives through a million years

caught in a raindrop falling down

reflecting our here and now

we know

it’s just a small piece

of the whole.

Glitter like gold

We live our lives

like tides moving in and out

never stationary for any given moment,

glittering like gold on the ocean waves.

We come to places that bring peace,

passers by in this second of time,

watching the faces of strangers

dappled in light from the sinking sun,

we shine when we feel

the salt spray glisten upon our souls,

hushed words at sacred places where

nothing remains but candles and the sense

of a moment when everything changed,

saying our prayers to the clouds above

for something beyond our fingers touch.

Mermaids slip silently by,

their bodies languid on the gentle waves

a flicker of a circle and then into the depths,

on their way to their next audience.

We smile as we move on our way

memories captured to carry

away with our hearts

as we gaze behind in the mirrors,

content to be breathing,

to be at peace.

An accident occurred where this image was taken, a father and daughter plunged their vehicle into the water, and although a few attempted the rescue, were unable to save their lives. There are two candles and a bouquet of flowers to mark the spot, where we had walked so many times before. A solemn place this night where the sunset glittered on the waves like gold. Rest in peace Carol and Gene.

 

In and out

We move in stages

smooth like stone worn by the hands of time,

colors blended to become a whole

perfection found in corridors.

We open our thoughts to places in dreams,

walking silently as we listen to the wind,

whispered history of centuries passed

while we feel the energy flow

from the ground to our soul.

In and out of sleep and dreaming

I know these places from lifetimes ago,

hands smooth the surface of images found

balancing the mind in the context of this time.

Who do we become when we step knowingly

the rabbit run of mazes and mystery,

rushing to the party for a last cup of tea,

that stained these walls with their leaves and scent

waiting for rain to brighten the hue

as the dryness becomes

a part of the daily life

and these mountains carved know the secrets

told by the seer before time began,

we become transfixed listening

for that heartbeat of the universe.

Pieces of mind

The stars that fell from the skies
Living upon the hill of my mind,
meandering through,
no purpose in the practice
just to let it be
moving through color
little here and there
images I see somewhere within
falling in drops on paper.
Not the best
not the worst
been so long since I’ve been here
sunlight beyond
and the solitary whispers call
to let it be.
Feels so very good
a lazy day to set free
words and paint and just a little
piece of the mind layed down
takng shape and form
when enough is enough
for now
there will come later
additions and subtractions
of just tuck it away in the stack
of moments spent here,
glass table and waterdrops
and sunlight to keep company,
stand up and walk away
to other needs and tasks,
knowing I will return
to the moon on the hills
searching for the stars that fell
somewhere beyond space and time.

Finally carving out a few hours to practice my watercolors, not the best but just a reminder that practice will bring more talent. Hubbys birthday today finds him out fishing at the jetty, dinner out tonight and time for me to play with my paints too, priceless indeed. The song “please come to Boston” was in my head when I concocted this piece….still looking for the stars, how typical for me, hmmm?
peace and blessings and happy hump day, and a happy birthday to my love💜🎨🌠🌌

Into the view

Wordless we lose ourselves into the view

beyond the scope of the physical of our here and now,

the rapture of peace prolong on stable souls,

etched in colors past our conscious realm,

we come to these places for sustenance and hope

gathering our miracles carefully

lest we fracture and crack

that which we so feverishly prayed for.

Nights silhouette calms the nerves frayed

as shades of bliss unite to find us

weighing our thoughts on our emotional scale

back and forth like the teeter-totter

on an abandoned playground field,

we slip our dreams between the stars that shine

for us we think,

always for us they come to find our minds

when in the softness of slumber

they slip in through the view beyond

and sprinkle us with their finest dust,

weaving about their tales untold

like storybook magic with happier endings

we lose ourselves as we melt on feathers

drifting off to find the end of day

meeting us in the middle

and sliding down into the oblivion

of a calm and peace

cherished.

Kings and Queens

Brick by borrowed brick

transplanted across the sea

beside the water blue to reside

two fast years created

theirs a labor of love,

King and Queen reach their dream.

Endless days of guests and stars

moonlight dancing on marble floors

terrace to view the setting sun

and long gone voices hang like ghosts

for the glory days before it all fell apart.

Tattered and torn the decay moves in,

pastel windows caked with salt and grime

restored to their throne,

the house rises once more

a sight for the willing to pay the price

at a glance into the lifestyles then

and emerging in the air when done

enraptured by the beauty found

in history.

John and Mabel Ringlings dream mansion built on the bay in Sarasota, named C’a d’Zan (venetian dialect for house of John), we did the lower level tour of the beautiful house, which for a while had been in disrepair and finally turned over to the University and Sarasota, now restored with most of the original furnishings. The windows are shades of purple, blue, yellow and pink and the view and terrace behind the mansion are to me, spectacular. My dream home….hahaha…..yep, I’m kind of funny that way, I know. I wish it were my house….although way too much to clean for just the hubby and me, but the hounds would have a field day running through it 🙂

This house was also the backdrop for the movie Great Expectations:

http://www.flamingomag.com/2017/03/01/ringling-ca-dzan/

Going deep

Hanging suspended

waiting in the still of day

reaching down to burrow

life-sustaining nourishment

much-needed on these times.

Do not touch for harm may come

a thousand roots run down to meet

the surface of the earth

hanging like vines that know

which is the right path to travel.

I stare at the twists and turns

attempting to make sense at times,

then remembering the simple truth

of just going with that flow

and trying to keep a light heart

when the darkness finds a space

like a root driving in deep and plumbing

the goodness that hides within.

Eyes close and breathe in the storm

sitting on the cusp of finding and striking

as clouds gather and the chimes toll,

we give thanks for the gift of water

and pray to survive this element

once more.

Where the path ends

We move through the splendor

aromas fill the noon-day air under the sun

warmth on the shoulders I walk quietly

as thoughts drift to the softness

the colors

the beauty found here.

Unexpected the garden fills me

with a tranquil peace as my mind seeks quiet,

unwinding the spring that has become

the muscles tight and weary

longing for a place to just be

and then she finds me,

this solitary bloom tinged with pastel

and the pink like a sigh

so soft and subtle

peace lives here on the corner

where the path ends

and begins,

the only image captured in this place,

the sight my feet kept moving me towards

under the noon-day sun

I breathe.

Walking through Mabel Ringlings rose garden I stopped to smell many yet only took a picture of one that drew me in. Sending peace to you all my friends, and also to myself in these days when it is so needed. Peace and blessings, always, K