Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty.~Frank Herbert
I’m prompted to cogitate upon links
between pneumonia and tobacco. Think
like a musician–embouchure perfect
so pitch is changed with a twitch. Reflect
how practice with intention opens eyes,
reveals the fleeting pink held in blue skies
and analyze no more. The rabbit holes
of whys designed to maze embodied souls.
Inspired by: Tobacco, Pneumonia, Embouchure and Cogitate.
Our greatest ability as humans is not to change the world; but to change ourselves.~Mahatma Gandhi
This quickening of sap and roots, hectic
chaotic glory ignites frenetic
as tyros dance as if they’re puppet-pulled,
the spring romance waking the senses, dulled
by winter’s discontent. From my glass house
I see my lessons reflect all I’ve doused
in my proclaimed superiority,
saying I’d never, yet these fires burn me.
I improve my view, rake and cut and dig
wild seeding my truth, my ambitions big.
I’ve cultivated, composting with care
this rich earth where I plant, intentions bare.
“Dynamic and alive, no matter how high you go, there’s always something more, something new that can be created.”~Jon Rappoport
Before any lightening I perceive
facing west, behind me mad chittering
composes the dawn, draws what I believe
unfounded from the very air. Grounded
imagination unfettered by trite
ties to reality, if unlettered
will I watch cold nights so dedicated?
Words weight me, burdens shouldered dictated
by generational woes survival
throws. What I insert with sweet song spirals
subtly, long. A glimpse of lace underwear
secret, a promise to beware. Trifles
pile onto our dissonance. Each sense pleas
to hear and taste and touch, to feel and see
outward, others’ creations that enslave
imaginations. I breathe and be brave.
Who knows when a welcome has worn? Worry
strives to master joy’s salute. Sorry, scorned
antithesis is born in disaster.
Outside the world is blooming. Hope reborn
scuttles in dread, a reversal. My heart’s
rehearsal dwelt too long on enmity.
I see my part, dragging identity
down dysfunction’s paths. Who’s unflagging art
accompanies from shore to door? Who can
answer my hesitant knock? To span
a long life, my illusory bridges
must fail. The dangling track’s prodigious.
Is everything I’ve wrought reduced to naught?
The train’s long gone when the caboose, distraught
creeps by. I say that I’m a lover. Fear
defined this life and is no longer dear.
Inspired by: Antithesis, Caboose, Strive, Salute and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt to start this post with either who or whom.
No man knows, or ever will know, the truth about the gods and about everything I speak of: for even if one chanced to say the complete truth, nevertheless one would not know it.~Xenophanes
When the timelines shifted, angels hit me
with my fate–my words absurd, they pit me
‘gainst the means mere humans work through our dreams,
figure slowly: every facet that seems
to separate, divides and conquers. Free
imagination’s the powerful key.
Using others’ past creations enslaves
and blinds and mutes the overtures of praise.
I held an image, how life’s supposed to be.
It wasn’t adding up. I thought to flee.
Drew star charts, heeded visions. Ancient lines
predict that I’ll awaken outside time,
discover space reflects my best and worst.
Wherever I may be, it’s time I work.
So patiently I clean, intentions pure,
steadfast with love abiding and soul sure.
Housekeeping is like being caught in a revolving door. ~Marcelene Cox
In the morning, love insists I redo
what’s been undone in the dark. Teens go through
the night kitchen with zest, unscrew and xertz
and spill amidst the kittens’ howling concerts
fierce tumbles and bold leaps. A disaster
zone, in short. Add the dogs. A forecaster
could simplify my gripes. It is ordained
this stress and mess. I interview harebrained
schemes, good intentions wrought–for I have bought
in, this sanctuary’s quirks food for thought.
I’m here in heart country and resolute
I clean my fractal, healing, destitute
of money. Energetically astute,
I ground and charge. My judgments now transmute.
The kitten purrs, then bites my thumb, my lap
the absolutely best place for his nap.
Written for these prompts: Simplify, Interview, Xertz and Resolute.
Yesterday in the land of fairy drawn
to the roots, exposed and barren–bring me
spring green–sunwarmed and grounding on the trails
down to the stream. Imaginations’ sails
rippling through our pristine canvas-ships
painted us homeward finally. Our lips
revealed the depths of change, strange tales of sharks
and campfire sparks. Mystical well-loved parks
coloring each piece we wrought. Improv joy
as each took turn: grandmother, little boy
father and teenager. The palette wild
and uninhibited rich inner child.
Bowing not to dysania’s cold dread
dehydrated, aching with a sore head,
I rally and center and water, led
by energy shifts late winter sun fed.
Inspired by: Spark, Shark, Pristine and Dysania. And a photo with the fairy effect filter that I took on a magical walk in the woods yesterday that affected me much more deeply than I realized–until waking.
One kitten’s lounging on my lap, sister’s
on my chair. The writing day’s begun. Stir
gold ghee into my cup, shake collagen.
My morning practices are wearing thin.
Under clear skies today, resolve pervades.
A big dog enters, gentle, but evades
(she wants to go outside, her ball is there.
She doesn’t hold with angry poems.) Air
the traumas we no longer can contain
in sacred vessels. Each electric gain
powers my high trajectory. Today
appears, prized intuition shows the way.
Prompted by: Contain, Clear Skies, Pervade, Angry and Butter (I’m allergic, so I make my own ghee) for the Stream of Consciousness Saturday and inspired to evolve by the loving beings around me.
