In the shower a long line of silver-
haired stunningly fierce missing faces. Clear
this week for an ancient karmic river
with a window in time to enter here
if you’ll receive your distant missing parts
to meet, to dance, legacy integrate.
And I’m all in, this slow allow as hearts
sincerely no longer insinuate.
Reminded, tales entrance, means of control
differed each time, still, locked up and caged
and on through the ages. Once writ on scrolls,
the story’s old, alive. Well met, dear sage.
Inspired by: Reminded, Missing, Legacy and Insinuate.
“There’s a light in the depths of your darkness. Let it shine, oh, let it shine.”~Dan Fogelberg
My wanderlust now craves sanctuary
a quiet place to imagine and write
rooted not with things but feeling airy
among trees while safe to travel by night.
Star-sung cottage where locals know I might
ameliorate mysterious ills
bring the murky causes into the light
so they can vanquish if they feel it will
compose a song in a key of life more
suited for well. The longer I dwell on
this scene, solitary, rich, music pours
out, unseen, tremendous and it swells on
the invisible waves, touches knowing
fields, informs and shares, updating files of
joy. There is a boy who comes to play, sings
with open heart, my homelessness miles off
and never really real at all. Powers
that be apportion a reality.
I turn away. Praise miracle showers,
grounding and learning receptivity.
Inspired by: Longer, Vanquish, Ameliorate and Wanderlust.
And greetings from the west in a song that I really loved to sing along with Dan Fogelberg, whose birthday was 13 August. At the end of the song, he takes off his guitar in joyous exhaustion, the crowd roars appreciation, and we all let it shine.
And so much gratitude to incredible friends whose kindness ameliorates my homelessness.
Singers…are gatherers of fruit and frankincense,
and that which they bring, though fashioned of dreams,
is raiment and food for your soul.~Kahlil Gibran
The clouds are zooming by as if they’re late
to take their places, ducking between trees
in their hurry, hoping no one will see
their uncanny pace and anticipate
the sky clock meander. Time elongates
and morning swells, the quiet window scene
deceiving. Outside, air rings. Each bird sings.
Praise prevails. Dainty aster celebrates.
Rustle-dancing leaves in kicked-up breezes.
Squirrel scrambles with a green tomato
he’s plucked while I transcribe the sky. I know
there is no finish. Love is ceaseless, sweet
I must bend low or raise my head high, breathe
as I find my place. I’m thrumming, on stage,
precise and deep, ready to integrate
these lovely songs emerging now unsheathed.
Inspired by: Uncanny, Deceiving, Finish and Prevail.
Tell me why, everything’s turned around. Open up, everything’s waiting for you. You can go your own way.~Lindsay Buckingham
The bluejay is telling us something
I’m oblivious with this warm bagel
and buttery ghee drips from lips
fingers I’ve switched the pen and it’s slow
like chittering cicadas waking to sun.
We regroup, come clean into center
as each illusion dies.
I’m not judging your looking outward
for guidance, following directives
you’ve been taught since childhood
by the ringing bells and hard-bottomed
chairs someone always knows better.
Speak up and wear a dunce cap
in the corner. What’s the opposite
of self-righteous? Maybe humble.
You’ve abandoned common sense,
where I live, but I’m no martyr.
Your path stretches out like the corridor
of cows led to the slaughter, signs
to keep you comfortable and competent
to walk in step with what’s expected.
Coloring inside the lines
who thought up the picture
you’re drawn into.
Daring to ask
for a new shade of blue.
What you create is all on you.
Inspired by: Martyr. Written in response to the dversepoets prompt to write a stream of consciousness poem.
Featured image: a tiny exquisite wild snapdragon that pushed through a very thick layer of mulch.
I drag despondent patterns outside sleep-
less under a benevolent sky. Why
do I cringe to harvest what’s planted deep
in the mindset I’ve cultivated? My
creations snug under this existence
laborious and weighted cogs–I pause
to rescue a frog who distrusts my dense
clumsiness, each attempt shows gaping maws.
He declines a frisbee, boogy board, net
at my behest, unwilling guest, each trap
a miracle perceived as certain death.
And how am I the same? Plucked out and tapped
and frozen under tiny wildflowers
who’ve pushed up from thick mulch to praise the day.
I breathe into the lessons. I devour.
I click. The frog has still not leapt away.
Inspired by: Benevolent, Harvest, Despondent and Behest.
This morning I wake under a blanket
of cranky and wallow in fernweh.
A red Jeep awaits and the country’s pet
facetious theories have unholy weight
They vellicate and I’m a peevish mood
far from the mainstream’s well, tip of my tongue
just itching to expose the rotten fruit
they’re serving–odious how far it’s flung
And so I breathe and sit under sun’s ray
soothed by cicadas’ clicks and random bird calls
alert me of my journeying away
from being here right now. In love I fall
Inspired by: Blanket, Facetious, Vellicate, Fernweh and the Three Things Challenge 325 prompts: Well, Fruit and Tongue.
A bluejay warns the grounded beings, shares
perspectives for those who heed suchlike: fierce
courageous singers in a key we can
not hear with ears. Cicadas thrum tympan
in waves of longing after thirteen years
inevitable to emerge ringing
of love and loudly proclaim fears faced proudly
in that cold dark sleep. In the deep
songs of living–and now sirens blare–include
what emerges. Claim this sunbeam, this beach
the lightly rocking swing. Sometimes I feel
the rhyme or meter sways and rocks the boat
A lone goose bleats. I tilt and set the swing
sideways. That kind of day. Alert. Awake.
The coffee tastes divine. Each being gives
and I receive, celebrate what I find.
Inspired by: Fierce, Inevitable and Beach.
Reality leaves a lot to the imagination.~John Lennon
In this spot stars hang plump as planets, pierce
my knowing. I am blind, feeling my way
through the dark antre, praising the sun fierce.
Empty lies gossamer fall out of play.
This weird year demands presence and grounding
firmly in my sacred vessel. Here now.
Breathing with intention. My heart sounding
through the depths as I ramble on. How
the maps fall away in this full stop.
Rotted foundations giving way. We play
and imagine with great power. The drop
into creative flow our saving grace.
Inspired by: Feeling, Stars, Ramble, Antre and the Stream of Saturday Consciousness prompt: Spot.
Now I see myself as I am
Feeling very free
Life is everything
Ooh it’s meant to be~James Pankow
For the first time last night I grilled chicken
juicy, delicious, served atop charred heart
of romaine. Here no longer sickening
as the world collapses. My brand new start
in the formula of quiet love: feel
precisely into each emotion, shout
and scream when moved, it’s not a silent deal.
I simply ground and center, inside out.
And joy replaces all the fear. It’s who
I am. Alive and thriving. I’ve survived
a decade of losing excrescence. Truth
is I’ve found I matter creating live.
Inspired by: Formula, Quiet and Excrescence.
And this amazing cover of Chicago’s I’ve Been Searching For So Long by Leonid and friends.