Posted in Art, Musings, Photography, Poetry, prose, Soul Journal

Week in Review: Voice Gone Dark

My blog is on hiatus. For a long time? For a short time? For an unspecified time.

I need a break from my head. I need to sail away from life.

There are plenty of questions with no answers. I wish I could say differently.

I already miss you lovely people. Stay well and take care.

If you need me, you probably know how to reach me. Peace.

Always Happy Writing with you, Jeanne ✍🏼

And please don’t forget about Crow Gifts, my first collaborative chapbook. Submit your 1-3 poems, short bio, and links to soulcollective67@gmail.com. Thank you to those who have already done so. 😘❤️

Posted in Advice, Musings, Poetry, Soul Journal

Crayon’s Voice***

Why do we limit ourselves? There is no simple answer.

Life is a celebration and we miss out on possibilities, cornering ourselves into a box. Unless that box is shut off from the world, by well-meaning friends or loved ones, we should not be afraid to be used. (But never abused.) If someone chooses to pick us, color with us, there is no need to cry. A lonely crayon is perfect. A used crayon, worn from tired hands, are memories to linger, lines in the sand.

Happy day to you. Just be. Linger a while in the joy of whatever color(s) you are today. What color are you at the moment? Feel free to let the world know in the comments. ✌🏼 🌈 🎨 🎶🎶🎶

***This is a post from June 2018. Ashley wrote about the drafts folder and mine is plumb full dating back to 2016. I plan on revamping some posts and letting them loose. Others will be trashed. Honestly, my blog(s) need an overhaul. I have changed so much from 2008 until now. My old selves certainly don’t recognize the new me. The me taking on life one day at a time.

Hope you will stay on this journey with me a little longer. Watch for all the changes to come. And know you are always welcome here. ✌🏼🕯🎶💙

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry, Soul Journal

New Wineskin

Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.

Proverbial Position: Sit and ponder.

The cliche that “nothing stays the same” happens every new season. Autumn is upon us now and we say goodbye to the childish ways of summer, as the groaning of winter approaches.

I grab my wrap as I head out the door to tend to my six sassy chickens. There are fewer clover plants to pick in the yard. So I bought fresh dandelion greens and watermelon at the grocer. This delicacy, beyond the grains, entices them to brave the morning chill. A chill they never knew in June, huddled beneath a red heat lamp. Where once all six chicks fit into the space of a three month old hen.

This new environment is a challenge for me too. Soon snow will blanket the dirt. Chicken feet are easily frost bitten so I must be cautious with how long they stay outdoors. To grab my scarf and trudge into the bleak day, instead of hunkering on the couch with a good book and fire, will challenge my devotion.

I choose the chickens during a March morning, my daughters texting me, as the two-week, 2020 lockdown, was fresh in mind. There was scarcely tp or eggs, flour, milk, and least of all bravery, on store shelves. We hunkered into fighting mode.

I had always dreamed of having a brood of chickens while my kids were young. Fishers Indiana laws and neighbors kept us from acting upon those noisy desires. Nothing in this town was blocking me from ordering those cuties from a hatchery. With a bit of research and a strong sense of the present world, I added six female Australorps to the online store bin.

This new wine drunk celebrates life seasons and I will keep up. My life stretching to fill new wineskins, to reach the warmth of others in community. These chickens hatched all possibility into me. The bourgeoning of the Little Free Library, my expressive arts training, and Shed 33.3. A renewed outlook sprouting from tilled soul.

At least until the final transformation of ghostly dancing sets eternally upon my bones. My spirit ever free from the confines of flesh. A new wineskin ever new, adorned with ebony feathers.

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry, Soul Journal

Thoughts unleashed…

Color Captioned

Every day starts with a new thought. Today was no different.

The past few days I have woken to water views of The Atlantic. Her blue waves are far worse than mine. The first day we met, I settled into the sun breaking free from her horizon. The warmth cut the chill enough to sit on the deck chair and zen the morning away.

I suppose this morning is a warning that the carefree moments never last longer than a brisk wind’s cold slap to the face. She woke up wild. I woke, arms wrapped around a blanket, hot mug in hand, giving thanks for her hospitality the past week. And for a relationship that has just begun.

Posted in Musings, Photography, Soul Journal

Alone

Yesterday, so many old feelings returned. Im angry. Im hurt. The relays of old films played all day in my mind. Scenarios I thought Id forgiven.

I was triggered into old patterns of behaving. Im utterly sad. After the heated emotions, I remind myself to keep forgiving them, so Im spared further damage to my heart.

I suppose I’m depressed too. My soul is tired and art has lost all color. Damn if I haven’t fallen hard.

I know this too will pass. The sun will shine again. But I am broken and hurt and mad.

Forgiveness promises very little in the midst of anguish. In the morning I plan to rise.

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry, Soul Journal

Week in Review: B & W

Stubborn hearts wander
wilderness vanity haunts
uneasy clouds cry

Good morning. We got rain yesterday evening, starting around four in the afternoon. The winds came rushing in and we lost power. We needed the rain desperately. So I am very grateful the storm popped up. Here is to a week of cooler temperatures in Mass and hopefully the rain pours. How is the weather by you?

I left a bit of blue in the photographed sky, as a hopeful promise. To escape the blackened feeling of Covid, drought, and people’s unrest, keep peace in your heart this week. Love your neighbor and look up!

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry, Soul Journal

Abandoned Voices

Abandoned Voices #1
To taste the air.
To know the wind.
To watch a bird
take flight
and welcome home
freedom’s fight.

To touch the ground’s
growing heartbeat.
To know our day’s bleak
as we are weak
to ever soar above.

If we understood each waking hour, what sound emerges for us? What lays at the edge of every step we take? Is freedom ever found?

The glimmer of hope rings true until the descent brings one closer. So how does one revive the home fire when all the logs are burnt?

I hope to continue Abandoned Voices through a series of photos that capture thoughts and answer questions. This being the first photograph, edited.

Posted in Art, Poetry, Soul Journal

Woodland Echoes

Printmakers paper, acrylics, ephemera, found leaves, coffee stains, and a piece of my poetry. With painted pages ready to add additional words, feathers, pressed flowers or leaves, and whatever else a heart desires.

Found in the Lost Pile of Civility (Jan 2019)

Seems to me
as we slowly decline
we beat around the bush
contemplate how to survive.

Generations realize this drift
on a sail-less boat
the cloth wrapped around our bleeding hearts
words confessed on bended knees
misses the sliver in private eyes.

Same old, same old story.
The beginning is the end.
The terror in other's minds
now belongs to us.
Realize hungry is,
as was,
and nothing eaten satisfies.

Measure our words against ourselves
need I stand upon a soapbox
add my rhetoric to humanity's misery?

As ash buries the smoldering coals
are we aware we are wandering
found among the lost pile of civility?
Posted in Photography, Poetry, quotes, Soul Journal

My Promise Garden

There exists a place
where grace imparts
a smile on every face.

Where flowers bloom
and chicks do roam
and honeybees buzz about.

The woods they speak
of you and me
we set a spot of tea.

The wild creatures
come and romp
dance so gaily.

And in the end
our heads will root
between the dappled sun.

I am always grateful the days depression departs my soul. Today I feel free… How are you? 🙏🏼💙🌊