Weaving Magic

Empathic contact with the living planet….beholding, pure and simple.~John Lamb Lash

As day begins, I weave intentional
loving strands. No qualms, unconventional,
a vibrant reminder to bronchioles:
breathing, we do our part. Unlock keyholes

to now where pure creation moves us through
the loom, each interlacing skein imbued.
Unique patterns emerge smooth and knotty.
I show up powerful. Call me haughty,

naughty, even dotty. My heart is clear.
My contribution in love’s hues mirrors
the energetic dance. Once realized,
the beauty of each thread intensifies.

Inspired by: Qualms, Bronchiole, Reminder, Haughty and morning chores nourishing and keeping alive the gorgeous living beings at the house where I’m petsitting.

Grateful To The Living Earth

Be grateful that you see your sovereignty.~John Lamb Lash

Before dawn, songbirds instruct decorous
gratitude grounded through lightening skies.
No fuss, unstinting praise. I cast my eyes
eastward and earth calls my bare feet. This day’s

mine, I claim the nowness seeping. Aware
I cease sleeping, taste and feel the very air
supporting my flourish. Being nourished
in countless ways. Summoning my courage

speaking my unique truth. Proclaim essence
guttural, impressive earthbound presence.
Separate fairytales. Common sense
laughs at the calendar’s programmed events.

The soil, the blooms, cicadas, butterflies
each moment charging before my stunned eyes.
Behind me, in a fervor, the old pup
dumps the trash can, gleeful, tearing things up.

Inspired by: Calendar, Guttural, Impressive and Decorous.

What We Know

Unless there is internal force for resistance, psychic immunity, so to speak, the individual psyche will adapt to the stress of the collective imagination. It will become what it believes and forget what it knows.~John Lamb Lash

How does one gainsay vacuous culture
built on false premises? Foolish things sure
to topple in the ring of sound inner
knowing, but the words are colored. Sinner

take warning. Perpetrator victim bond
is sealed. Rat race mouse wheel and I respond
to abject pleas and harsh commands: join in.
Homeless, unemployed, I have no coin in

and yet my heart aches as the clones skitter
surface glitter, find the next outfitter.
And how easily they could new create
if they could just release this grasping hate.

Inspired by: the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt color/colour, vacuous, foolish things, skitter and gainsay.

Featured image: a tricolored beech outside of my window.

Flower of the Flock

In the rain at dawn, inconsolable
abed, he doesn’t even lift his head.
Adorable and grumpy old man missing
the woman prone to kissing. She had warned

mornings he likes to be alone. We fit
surreal, exact behavior pet sit
repeated and reflected for my heart’s
sweet wisdom teaching. I’m reaching to start

a new way of being. So releasing
old perspectives, new idioms teasing
from the weighted words designed to enslave.
Experience I generate now, brave

and willing to share what keeps revealing
each strong bright presence no more concealing
how we flower in our time through stages
creation we source unique, outrageous.

Inspired by: Idiom, Rain, Surreal, Exact and the gorgeous blooming yard where I’m petsitting.

In The Wild

Stacked sympathy cards lie like a stymie
in the line of play. Victims cry, why me,
finally see how they screwed up, fooled around.
The accusations fly, the guilt abounds.

Here in my path of service, aiming high
I praise morning, stare into glary sky.
I’ve learned I’m ever in the place I need
to be, intuitive vigilance heed.

Each wise whispered heart-voice counsels to still
and in creative space, imagine, drill
past all the seeming obstacles. The shag
untidy begs a second glance. Tool bag

brimming, I center, ground and breathe. Expand
beyond constraints of time. At my command
joy rises, flavored by the grief. This pain
I savor, so intense yet brief, free rein.

Inspired by: Screw, Stymie, Shag and (featured image) the ongoing visitation by beautiful white flying beings, which bring my mother into my presence with great joy.

Love Songs

Morning prayers pull me into overviews–
half-moon clean-scrubbed by pink lingering. Blues
emerging. A startled flock bursts above
and I’m off to the races, sensing love

life a precious blessing as finally
I’m right where I’m supposed to be, free
from all the old egregious tales of woe.
What matters are my thoughts and words and though

the others struggle, I am clear as we
sit silently in peace, admire the view
as lake paints watercolors, dabbling hues
and praised by songbirds, trilling love’s breakthroughs.

Inspired by: Overview, Off, Prayer and Egregious.

Opening Awareness

Sunrise paints a glorious rosy burst
outside my window so it’s camera first
and rhymes follow as it fades. Ducks waddle
through shore grasses as starstruck I dawdle.

This throng of spirit messengers: bluebirds’
brilliant plumage muted in dawn’s light; words
pin perceptions to past. Being outlasts
and sweeps away the stories with a blast.

I have no namesake to be molded by
some careless false history. See the sky
in constant change, each feathered mystery
delivering the key to liberty.

Inspired by: Namesake, Window and Throng.

Beyond Thought

These timelines shift like water snakes slither
over stones, plop into clear reflective
lake to vee across expanses whither
I don’t know. Intuition’s detective

leaves the head, inspires the gut until what
and who and how and why and where are shut
into the cage that past has wrought. The new
I must imagine, my creations brew.

Inspired by: Head.

Under The Spell

Do not strive for more comprehension than that which appears effortlessly. You will know what you need to know and remember what you have forgotten.~Ken Carey

Daily entry into applications
allows insight. Poetic creations
vehicles for the venerable who
read and leap into deep waters. The few

mermaids who cling to rocks and sing, bidden
siren-calls outside the box. Truth hidden
beneath propaganda to mesmerize
technologies’ captives. They’ll soon capsize.

Being entitles you to breath. From hence,
sovereignty’s found through experience.
Beyond the slavery of language spells
freedom arises, prized. You know it well.

Inspired by: Mermaid, Entitle, Application and Venerable.

Featured image taken on the lake yesterday. Who knows what lies beneath?

Deep In The Dance

Something happens to you when you begin to think about this planet as a single living organism. And when you begin to live in that awareness, nothing is ever again quite the same.~Ken Carey

Thin wraiths dance eastward over warm waters.
Chilled and bundled in fleece, I watch as geese
emerge like stones waking to feed, such greed
as light reveals their hiding place. They honk

alarms along the gosling-littered tarmac
path, such charm, but shoes a must. Fingers chilled
but here outside my passions rise. I’m filled
with joy and peace. You want to talk vaccines.

Just look, my crooked face, heavy metals trace–
that clear view reveals my stand. Unrespected
population propagandized nations
caught in fear, learning controlled, injected

by calamity we cannot see, fish
swimming in an unsensed sea, yet we wish
for unity, attend group-think workshops
to train out all individuality.

There is no lottery to win. Within
unique imagination is built in,
our saving grace. We pause and listen, give
space to the underlying love we live.

Inspired by: Lottery, Workshop, Vaccine and Calamity and these books: Crooked: Man-made Disease Explained by Forest Maready and What Really Makes You Ill, Why Everything You Thought You Knew About Disease Is Wrong, by Dawn Lester and David Parker.

Featured image: a great blue heron fishing this morning as I tried to capture the fog dancing along the lake surface. Below image: I tried to capture the eery fog a bit later when the sun began to rise.