Poem: Walking By


Down the sun drenched pathways

we wander through our days

And pass by many gathered

who may not share our ways

 

An outstretched hand

may call us in

to this circle that lays before:

enter and belong within

 

But some may choose

to walk on by

and remain on a private path

but not because we’re shy

 

Nor do we think

these folks are bad

or we unfriendly be

and hope you don’t get mad

 

In fact the truth you see

not only do I save my space

for a special one or two

being with myself actually touches grace

 

 

 

 

 

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Poem: Sunday


Waking up slowly

on comet-tails of gratitude

Counting diamond faceted blessings

streaming by

Cat purrs encouraging

eternal life

While quiet rain

soothes the earth

and brings promises

for a watercolor tomorrow

Cosmic Birth


She walked into the crystalline night below an inky sky her thoughts following her like giant insects who come out only when old furniture is moved. The apparitions that stalked her, breathing their hot voices close to her ears, were ever present. It was like the dead air sound inside her head when the pressure gets too much; or maybe someone just over the other side was reaching out, trying to say something, but she couldn’t make out the words. A rushing, like the blood in her veins, pushing and pulsing. They follow her, so very near.

Where was she going? And where had she just been? The night air felt like a slap, but it was a sting of stars blasting her awake.  Had she been asleep? Walking through her life, but not conscious. Faces, distorted with mouths that spoke at her, trying to swallow her and eat what she was, would swim out of the darkness, grinning. Often, she would find herself in a place she wouldn’t recognize, naked and unaware how she had gotten there. Just like on this stark night.

The mirrored hall of reality was a twisted place. It’s maze of unending pathways looking back upon itself reflected nothing and everything. Where did she start or end? The mystery of the beginning was unknown. So, she would keep moving because stopping would mean pain. The grace of fluidity kept her whole, in one piece, so she wouldn’t shatter into a million shards and fly off into the universe.

It was understood that this was a lonely place. The voices may speak, but they would never hear.  She would always walk alone on roadways unfamiliar and distant from where she knew she belonged. There would be a mist that would drift in around her and hold her like a baby, clouding the world around her and making the edges soft. But this made others wary of her, because when she stepped out of the fog, she saw with great clarity and knew when the others weren’t true. And this made her different.

So, it kept her walking; away from it all. It kept her separate, even though the voices followed. She kept going forward, step by step. The ghosts floated close by, but the cool, authentic air as she walked kept her present.

And as she walked, her head tilted toward the dotted evening sky. She thought about the stars, planets and the universes. Mostly about eternity. How it all stretches out on and on. It started before her and will go on after she is long gone. And how she is following its call back home.

Poem : The Accomplice


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It was just that time
Of poetic paths meandering far beyond
Expounded boundaries
The craggy ragged loopholes
Only a few can see

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A strange accomplice
Meeting in the cloak of night
Our utterances often simple
But their power brilliant
Did shine

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And under She who guides the dark
Did we merry dance and play
Forever etched you will stay
My friend
No matter where you are

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Our hearts are always near
My dear
Wherever I do look
A leaf a branch a solid stone
My accomplice
Is on the road
With me