Growing Pains

If you do not expect the unexpected you will not find it, for it is not to be reached by search or trail.~Heraclitus

I’m smashing into things, moving too fast
until pain slows me down to ground at last.
Jettison the ways that goad me, barbed spurs
trauma, memorable or not, secures

a hold upon the reins. I’m ego’s pawn
and all of my creations since the dawn
of time percuss my skin, a drum. I must
have confidence, intention trust

that I do change like winter’s subtle sleep
wakes with this tender beauty. As I keep
flowing the growing pangs inside new gifts
I aim higher and bridge each revealed rift.

Inspired by: Jettison, Confidence, Memorable and Percuss.

Making A Difference

Because Proteus could assume whatever shape he pleased, he came to be regarded by some as a symbol of the original matter from which the world was

Today I’m determined to swim in now
a delicate operation and how
I summon my protean ways to dive
from complacent habits’ unaware life.

Inspired by: Complacent, operation, habit, protean and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt difference.

Creating My Own

“Dynamic and alive, no matter how high you go, there‚Äôs 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.

Inspired by: Underwear, Shoulder and Trite.

Running Start

You need to aim beyond what you are capable of. Make your vision of where you want to be a reality. Nothing is impossible.~Paul Arden

After clearing shadows of possible
monsters, he zooms into morning, crammed full
of unexpected insights, such delight-
joy to be alive while teens balk at light.

You have to think fast, peruse the system–
grandmotherly words meant to assist him.
My task’s to civilize young excesses
hoping to lessen rambunctious messes

while boosting wild imagination. Poised
on the balance beam, enjoy the world’s toys.
Create with each breath, grounded, having fun
outside in the spring sun. Come, let us run.

Inspired by: Peruse, unexpected, system, balk, the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt run and the amazing opportunity to be untamed by a four-year-old who loves to run at full blast.

The Past At Our Backs

Carrying marbles, the kittens burst in.
Lethal claws cause no anguish; they’ve been trimmed.
Still I duck. They attack. Glass balls gyrate.
The volatile clock leaped into dark’s sway

in the night. Now I rise, my direction
unclear. I fumble for lights, inspection
might pierce through this fog. Now a dog enters
the melee, wagging tail innocent, her

invitation to pounce–she’s trounced. Poem
flowing, the running beat of feet: grandchild
whirls in. Ancestral patterns keep showing
beyond our ken, cast shadows tall and wild.

Inspired by: Duck, Direction, Anguish, Volatile, a change to daily savings time and kittens who run with marbles in their mouths.

This Morning

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.

11:11 on 222

I’m listening for the angelic choir
in this particular month, ears on fire,
eyes sparking, a live wire. My new voice sings.
A crystal, I oscillate between swings

over chaotic choices. I reach out.
My ancient cousin says, have you run out,
with a certain glee, lonely, sitting high
atop a stash he’ll surely need in the sky.

Behind every rebuff I see how
my new being is mistaken. I bow
under the weight as I awaken, shed
possessions and limitations. Ahead

of the wave, I ride. My hesitations
old programs, filtered perceptions I’ve saved
in ignorance. How this world I create
propels me past my comfort zone. No wait.

Inspired by: Particular, Oscillate, Month and Rebuff.

Winging It

In the palatial sacred vessel
my practical wisdom commands: nestle
down deep under the covers. Last night’s meal
irreconcilable. Nauseous, I feel

calm with a kitten purring on my chest.
Grounding my electrical being’s best
done with sounding tuning forks and toning.
Finding rays of sunshine, power honing

as I create in this new realm beyond
what’s plausible. Big fish in a small pond,
I’m evolving, growing wings. Can you see
me? Singing blessings as I come to be.

Inspired by: Irreconcilable, Wisdom, Practical and Palatial.