Eternal

There was never only one,
there were always two worlds, collided,
a world of eternal beauty,
a world of eternal hurt,
merged in one place, of beautiful pain.


Prompt from Nean: There was never only one...

Why I Like Old Cemeteries

If anybody else is there they can't really blame you for it or get upset if you're crying for no apparent reason - they'll just assume it's cause somebody died and you miss them.

Little to no traffic/car exhaust to gag on.

Fresh air and open, but not too open space.

Feeling connected - it's a place to rub up against history and imagine what peoples lives where like and how this and that person with the same name were related.

Reading gravestones is like people watching, only less chance of being caught.

It's a peaceful place to walk.

Feeling like a natural part of the cycle of life.

Being reminded life is finite and to make the most of it.

The Moon

A distant friend,
who never laughs,
or sheds a tear.
Who never cries,
or truly smiles.
Her's is a lonely life,
but so simple,
without a care.

Inner Beauty

Mirror mirror,

on the wall,

tell me why,

my looks are yours?

Does it matter if I'm pretty,

if my face is perfect?

Don't look at me like that.

Close your eyes,

take a step back,

don't look so close,

and you'll see more.

Sea Glass

Sea glass,

or river glass, if you will,

bits of broken bottles,

scattered on the gravel,

washed upon the shore,

from unknown origin,

green, pale blue,

white frosted clear,

and once in a while,

rich bright true blue,

if luck will let you find it.

Moon Song

Pale silver moon,

in a purple sky,

like a money plant seed pod,

turned into a spotlight,

on clear rich blue sky.

written 10/22/10

To the Tree of Life

God of the woods,

God of nature,

you are the tree of life.

Your roots sink deep into the earth,

spreading to support our feet

even as we avoid your shadow of comfort.

You are the bright green beauty

of new leaves that catch our eyes,

if only we look up from our over busied lives.

You are the rough bark

taking on the scars of the world,

offering a love more permanent

than anything represented

in hearts and initials,

carefully scratched,

by reckless flighty lovers.

You are the branches reaching out,

bigger than life,

holding us carefully

as we try to climb higher,

reaching for the sky

with our fragile dreams.

You are the infinite complexity

of roots and branches and twigs,

leaves and veins in leaves,

far more intricately complex

than anyone could see from the ground.

Walking the Labyrinth

Faded paint,
soft echoes,
of stories told,
memories caught,
upon cold stone.

Quiet voices,
whispers on the wind,
creating anew,
todays stories.

Worn soft,
threads of time,
holding us together,
tying past to present.

Handprints left,
to mark this place,
a space to be,
alive with God.

Rain

Cold drizzle creeps,
into bones,
sinking in,
chilling,
heart,
and mind,
and body.

My blankets call out,
stay in bed,
snuggle in,
drink some tea,
and write a bit,
block out the cold,
with warming ritual,
tea and books,
writing by fire light.

Icy grip,
of downcast weather,
slows me down,
but children are immune,
bouncing and giggling,
begging for escape,
confining space,
too tight,
trapping busy bodies,
who resist the call,
of rainy rest,
with boundless,
overflowing,
energy.


Writing prompt (courtesy of my cousin): "a poem... about... rain and obnoxious children"

The Night Won't Save You

Crisp air blows,
stirring the darkness,
bright moon glows,
a beckoning call,
crickets chirp,
their incessant song,
promising not,
to leave you alone,
if only you'll follow,
into the night,
escape from the light,
but the night won't save you,
illusion of company,
in a lonely world,
promising safety,
but offering only,
a melancholy home,
for a broken heart,
the night won't save anyone.


Writing prompt from A Writer's Book of Days: "The night won't save anyone."

Hidden Beauty

liquid fills,
eyes not green,
not brown,
or maybe both...
drops of feeling,
melt through hazel,
words of truth,
cut straight to heart,
burns like salt,
tears upon a cut,
echos of romance,
clouding,
hollow heart,
confused by love,
hidden beauty,
embraced,
a glow of warmth,
confounding,
what is this thing,
this hidden beauty,
lost within,
and yet you see

Beginning to Glow

I've hidden in myself,
long enough I know,
clinging to my worries,
to save myself from me.

It isn't easy,
letting go,
but you take my hand.

Uncertain of my beauty,
I say I'm fairly plain,
just a simple woman,
inside and out,
nothing special really.

I wouldn't say I'm ugly,
but only others say,
I'm beautiful.

Shhing all my protests,
you say there's light inside,
my eyes are blinded to it,
but you say it's there,
and if I try to grow it,
I'll surely glow with it.

Pretending I can see it,
I try to be that light,
no one else can know,
but I'm starting to believe it,
that light is really there.

With every mention of a light,
I think of that,
deep hidden glow,
and every time I picture it,
it shines a little brighter.

Then some else confirms,
"You have a glow about you."