Restless tree spirit
I am one with your reason
heart song of your promise
Steady rock of winter
singing in songs of laughter
that melt to summer
melting into you
I find inner universe
joyful peace is mine
hard pressed to find peace
it melts over my mindset
in your warm embrace
otters
playful youth spirit
twirling in water filled delight
holds the joy of man
garden
blooming crocus night
capture breezy scent filled flight
with rows of carrots
like soldiers to war
coffers staked against famine
carrot, beans, sweet peas climb
Thursday, March 1, 2012
bliss
with my lover, poetry embalms
our together time
like wet dogs licking the
last wily drops
of succulent togetherness
excercise 3
I must relax, succumb
to your caress, the timbre
of your voice ignites a filament
of desire. Lost in the tine
and earnest, pointed texture
of your will, like an iris
to the spring. I am steel.
our together time
like wet dogs licking the
last wily drops
of succulent togetherness
excercise 3
I must relax, succumb
to your caress, the timbre
of your voice ignites a filament
of desire. Lost in the tine
and earnest, pointed texture
of your will, like an iris
to the spring. I am steel.
smoke
Pregnant ash lies empty
on the floor
eyes follow the red spur
of blackbird
soaring in windy delight
as tears drop
from the open sky
of his lies to himself.
He is alone with them to face.
on the floor
eyes follow the red spur
of blackbird
soaring in windy delight
as tears drop
from the open sky
of his lies to himself.
He is alone with them to face.
excercises
exercise 1
finding cloud pictures
of snowy laces uncorked
against the bark
of my shoes
I boat the river to
your cup of sweet jelly;
wool against my skin
needling the will of some
other ether filled dream
I hand you your horse.
excercise 2
"show me" she cried
eyes on Manhatten,
starlight spilling over
like a fish jumping.
Ripples cascading into
the dead stump of resistance
he tried to fight it
but the need to rest
crept in like snowflakes
gentle on the lash.
Stray thought:
poetry bursts into my head
the way language rides its irreverent
helicopter of tide
kissing the brow of indifference
finding cloud pictures
of snowy laces uncorked
against the bark
of my shoes
I boat the river to
your cup of sweet jelly;
wool against my skin
needling the will of some
other ether filled dream
I hand you your horse.
excercise 2
"show me" she cried
eyes on Manhatten,
starlight spilling over
like a fish jumping.
Ripples cascading into
the dead stump of resistance
he tried to fight it
but the need to rest
crept in like snowflakes
gentle on the lash.
Stray thought:
poetry bursts into my head
the way language rides its irreverent
helicopter of tide
kissing the brow of indifference
up to speed
some of what you
say
whispers at my soul
I flutter
but I've heard
you say it before.
Some of what I
feel
tugs at my reason
I falter
but I am just
watching now.
Some of what I
hope
thrills me nose to toes
I blush
but you don't
seem to notice.
Some of what you
promise
calms a raging rain
I storm
but you seem
rock steady lightening.
say
whispers at my soul
I flutter
but I've heard
you say it before.
Some of what I
feel
tugs at my reason
I falter
but I am just
watching now.
Some of what I
hope
thrills me nose to toes
I blush
but you don't
seem to notice.
Some of what you
promise
calms a raging rain
I storm
but you seem
rock steady lightening.
poetry weekend
With my lover
we write silly poems
from word games and
made up fantasy's of
moments
caught in one anothers gaze
we laugh, and curl
around each other in
the cold sunshine
a cigarette, a coffee cup
a blanket around our feet.
Shared tokens of
more intimate moments just
inside the door.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Creative Healing
Love comes in many forms.
A few months ago, a big container of beads that I had, upended and dumped itself out on the floor. It was symbolic of the way my life was going at the time and what was yet to come, as all the sizes and colors and types of beads ran everywhere, picking up dirt, pine needles and pet fur... I swept them up and gave the lot to my friend who offered to sort them out for me, a true labor of love. She kept them safe for several months, sorting some of them in her spare time until I could face them myself.
I had begun doing a lot of beading to try to exert some kind of control over a life that felt more like it was living me and controlling my circumstances then the other way round. Beading is tiny, tedious, colorful, creative, and gives a very intricate sense of order and control to the artist in a concrete way that paint cannot. In addition there is an end result to show for the labor involved, Something I was not getting in my last relationship despite my best and most earnest efforts. I lost a lot of my self, and many treasured and expensive possessions to leave that unhealthy scenario. I even gave up my dog. Blessed am I to have so many truly loving friends to see me through rough times.
This quarter, as I heal, I have been examining all of my oldest relationships and how they have impacted my beliefs, choices and more recent relationship outcomes. I moved to another state, and slowly began to round up what was left of the pieces of my life. Pulling together the best of my friends and all their accumulative advice, I began beading with gusto, creating new patterns using finer materials, and developing a better intuitive effectiveness with the tools. I got the bead mess back from my friend and am slowly sifting through the debris, eliminating it from my life. I find as I sort, consider, and contemplate patterns for jewelry pieces, I also sort, consider and contemplate the tiny moments and foundations of my believes around relationships and love.
Love comes in many forms, and often it forms us. As I have examined these places with an open heart, I have come to change many of my views and opinions about myself and others that once seemed set in stone. A man I have always loved inexplicably that always set me aside despite similar feelings, one that smells better to me then any other I have dated. A step mother whom I never felt good enough for and spent my life feeling rejected by. A neglectful father who actually adores me but not in the same love language that I speak. A sister that I never got to know because of her proximity in age to my own grown child. Things in these early relationships have not always been as I have perceived. All of these relationships have evolved to be more positive as I have examined the impact of my own feelings, perceptions and roles in creating them.
A few months ago, a big container of beads that I had, upended and dumped itself out on the floor. It was symbolic of the way my life was going at the time and what was yet to come, as all the sizes and colors and types of beads ran everywhere, picking up dirt, pine needles and pet fur... I swept them up and gave the lot to my friend who offered to sort them out for me, a true labor of love. She kept them safe for several months, sorting some of them in her spare time until I could face them myself.
I had begun doing a lot of beading to try to exert some kind of control over a life that felt more like it was living me and controlling my circumstances then the other way round. Beading is tiny, tedious, colorful, creative, and gives a very intricate sense of order and control to the artist in a concrete way that paint cannot. In addition there is an end result to show for the labor involved, Something I was not getting in my last relationship despite my best and most earnest efforts. I lost a lot of my self, and many treasured and expensive possessions to leave that unhealthy scenario. I even gave up my dog. Blessed am I to have so many truly loving friends to see me through rough times.
This quarter, as I heal, I have been examining all of my oldest relationships and how they have impacted my beliefs, choices and more recent relationship outcomes. I moved to another state, and slowly began to round up what was left of the pieces of my life. Pulling together the best of my friends and all their accumulative advice, I began beading with gusto, creating new patterns using finer materials, and developing a better intuitive effectiveness with the tools. I got the bead mess back from my friend and am slowly sifting through the debris, eliminating it from my life. I find as I sort, consider, and contemplate patterns for jewelry pieces, I also sort, consider and contemplate the tiny moments and foundations of my believes around relationships and love.
Love comes in many forms, and often it forms us. As I have examined these places with an open heart, I have come to change many of my views and opinions about myself and others that once seemed set in stone. A man I have always loved inexplicably that always set me aside despite similar feelings, one that smells better to me then any other I have dated. A step mother whom I never felt good enough for and spent my life feeling rejected by. A neglectful father who actually adores me but not in the same love language that I speak. A sister that I never got to know because of her proximity in age to my own grown child. Things in these early relationships have not always been as I have perceived. All of these relationships have evolved to be more positive as I have examined the impact of my own feelings, perceptions and roles in creating them.
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