Yesterday’s Seeds

Eloquent as the eyes of the ancient
soul inside the furry coat. Enchanted
presence. We speak of love in deep silence.
The cords bright that unite us ignite sense

in a newly opened dimension stories
have not degraded, infiltrated squeeze–
And moments of my essence have praised words
those weighted games of flipping neatly verse

fun. One-sided. My saving grace til now
evolves me and I take the leap and how
the instantaneous change flowers. Seeds
long sown in distant lands rooted here. Feed

the words I bring back overused and trite
aim for higher trajectory delight
Love’s spun me with intensity and grief.
I plunge wholeheartedly. The journey’s brief

and what’s reflected all around: chances
inviting you to elegant dances
and you in your dirty jeans feel unseen
unworthy and you bow, subjugation

trained from birth, enslaved by words. Creation
demands: come as you are. Turn off the noise.
A single breath with focus conjoins joys.
Eloquent as the eyes of the ancient.

Inspired by OctPoWriMo Day 24 prompt millstone, an example of which could be a narrative based solely on propaganda and greed. And when I am grieving that words can so easily enslave, this is my cue to look deeply into me and continue, brave.

Regrets

He’s so forgetful, angry and hated
dementia is unsubstantiated.
Days are a confusing spuddle and nights
a muddle of regrets and haunted frights.

In your distance, you deem me petty, spurn
my insight’s assistance and now you’ll learn
losing keys is not an anomaly
uproar and chaos now normality

demanding patient presence addressing
small clues before they worsen, distressing
in an avalanche irreversible
sealing off a land once transversible

where we could have met for a quiet word
instead of calling me absurd, you’d heard
perhaps a semblance of sanity might
have slowed this sorrowed precipitous flight.

Inspired by: Unsubstantiated, Spuddle, Forgetful and Anomaly.

Music of the Spheres

In my body parts celebration, run
a tuning fork vibration, humming. Spun
cobwebs of fine energy electric
respond, settle all the places hectic.

Here I am new and vibrant. I can say
no to the dental X-rays; they don’t play
well in my balance. Not a working stiff,
I’m noodling my own creative riff.

Inspired by: Xray, Celebration, Cobweb and written in the Stream of Consciousness Saturday style to the prompt body parts. With a nod to the amazing balance tuning forks create in my body electric.

Featured image: playing “electric” guitar back in 1975.

Complicit No More

You’re under the spell of the ultimate psyop in modern human history.~Sol Luckman

My head is filled with a painting, chasing
words away as I create. Embracing
my vision, studies assist. I start small,
to untwist the gnarl taught by the cabal

which granted no leeway: color inside
the lines! squirming under the teacher chide
I had no pride in my endeavors. Smart,
I chose to shine with poetry, not art.

The parent-teacher conferences agreed
some practicality is what I need.
Left-handed dreamer learned to surf the screed
until at last, sovereign, I intercede

on my behalf. The joy as I splatter
vivid colors on to canvas. Matter
drips and splashes. Daubs and splotches cohere
sun birthing into ocean now appears.

Inspired by: Assist, Conference, Gnarl and Leeway, reimagining my own past as a spin on OctPoWriMo Day 22, and the joy welling in my heart as I stand and live in my sovereign power.

Featured image: Taken on the east coast of Florida, the inspiration for today’s painting.

Mist-ified

Foggy consecutive dawns on the lake
an insistent melody I partake
all present urge me to wake. Past mistakes
encapsulate my fate. Like ghostly wraiths

who haunt the surface, manipulate air,
pushed by the sun away. Still I am snared.
Nebulous traps of my own devising
sing me to sleep without analyzing.

The narrative perpetual sedates
hypnotically effectual mandates
like senseless nursery rhymes reveal crimes
hazy and obscure til consciousness chimes.

The infiltrated group-mind lulls to sleep
with promises and lies intertwined keep
me like a servant giving energy
to the dark forces feeding frenziedly.

Inspired by: Consecutive, Melody, Encapsulate, Effectual and the OctPoWriMo Day 20 theme of community.

Featured image: These consecutive cool predawn mornings are foggy and eerie until the sun chases all the illusions away.

I Can See Clearly

I’m the cautionary tale, canary
in the mine. If there’s a toxin buried
even layered in the air, the fumes scorch
sensitivities, a five-alarm scourge

If you see me melt or swinge, apprehend
cast not for blame. Break hypnotic trance. Wend
your way to cleanse. Hug a tree. Breathe fresh air.
Ground, earthing, center. Sound electric prayer.

Aiming for high trajectory, I burn
illusions. With respect for me, I yearn
to model what I’ve learned. Disintegrate
past’s chains, the patterned prate repudiate.

Inspired by: Hypnotic, Scorch, Cautionary and Blame.

Featured image: The lake is exceptionally beautiful today; I’m counting down the days to departure.

Duck Tales

The wonderful thing about tiggers, is tiggers are wonderful things.

The three-legged one-eared cat’s eying ducks
from the cold wet shore, grisly spying. Clucks
and quacks but no alarm. She cannot harm
them, so it seems, from my table of dreams.

Kingfisher’s arrival and the rain drive
awkward limping. Foiled again. The ducks dive
bottoms up, intent on feeding, unware
and unheeding, just like me. I take care

to be here now, dismiss the puerile fears
and danger bleats from unenlightened peers.
Each step reveals. I hold my lantern bright.
Aware, aimed at the highest path of life.

Inspired by: Table, Cold, Grisly and Puerile.

Featured image: Tigger, my neighbor’s once feral cat, hunting in the rain this morning and revealing the lesson I most need in this exact moment. (Sorry it’s so blurry; it was dark!)

The Key of Life

Intuition guides me through this current.
Light-cords through the aether twinkle. I’ve learnt
harmony, tinkling piano keys
since I was three, sound and grounded, at ease

splashing in rain, mud slurp-squishing through toes.
Playing outside my heart’s desire. The throes
of now steerable from that innocence
which chose concordance through the peril. Hence

in my grief, watching as three ducks emerge
into the subtle lightening, dawn’s verge
reveals the hidden clues to loving eyes.
Coherence in stillness lets music rise.

The sky is an outrageous symphony.
The high notes white and gold and shot with pink.
Dark rumbles from the west betoken rain.
The sun’s slow burst of colors in free rein.

Inspired by: Piano, Current, Betoken and OctPoWriMo Day 14 Rain.

Featured image: I went out in the dawn to take photos of the ducks when the sun swept over the horizon.

Lifting The Fog

At sunrise air is wet and thick like smoke.
Muting the sounds and colors, grayness pokes
and strokes my rigid places. I am free
from hardening my heart. Although I see

the brute squad bungle love–they just don’t know.
Insensitive, they surf love’s current flow,
building empires, letting the details go
to hardworking unpaid servants laid low.

The fissure growing deeper, the rich buy
as properties skyrocket. By and by
they’re all alone, lamenting labor’s dearth.
Nobody wants to work a dollar’s worth.

Their conversation vacuous, matching
the sense they’re superior, so snatching
the last remnants of this crumbling culture.
As I write the fog lifts, and a vulture

lands upon the chimney. The sky slow clears
though ghostly wraiths still dance. Lake’s reappeared.
And everything is nebulous and new.
Substantial now invisible’s in view.

Inspired by: Fissure, Conversation, Matching and Bungle.

Arachnophilia

After window washers clean the canvas
a storm sweeps through and all the plans this
crew devised make way for the artist’s loom.
Busy all night under the lighted gloom

her web shines under the porch bright, the glow
illuminates her spinning deft weft throws.
Oh, lucky chance that wakes and drives me out
of heartache to gape. She dances through doubt.

My worries ludicrous, now embracing
feeling intense grief once stifled, facing
the dirty place yesterday sanctified
opens emotion’s space I have denied.

Inspired by: Dirty, Emotion, Ludicrous and Declarations of Love to a busy spider who drew me out of my tangled dreams. Also the deer, eagle, kingfisher and ducks who visited just before I hit publish. Thank you, messengers of love, asking me to be more present.

Featured image: As if the lake knows these are my final days, every morning is a beautiful water color, fleeting, intense, delightful reward for the early riser.