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? 🙏🏼💙🌊

Posted in Art, Music Video, Musings, Poetry, Quilting, quotes, Soul Journal

Chasing Dreams

I belong
where earth invites growth.
Where shadow spreads
the coiled soul.
I belong
under a musing sky.
Under shed skin
of nimble cloud.

Yesterday I took a wonderful class walking a Chartres Labyrinth. It gave revelation besides the release of ill thoughts. Walking on clouds, back to my car, I reached down to pick up a set of leaves.

Which led to a new quilt being built. Last evening, I created a leaf template and cut out nine sets of Buckeye palmate, compound leaves.

Today I am in the process of appliqué, onto nine squares of gray.

What inspires you? What do you do with your musings?

Happy creating… Jeanne 🌊🐚🕊

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry, Soul Journal

In Desperation

In a desperate attempt to find myself, I appear a mess. And that mess includes a home full of rooms and a collections of things. Ideas endlessly scattered. Everywhere.

So where have I been? Trying to find me. Editing my physical, emotional and spiritual self. I still haven’t quite found what I was hoping to find. I am getting close.

And if you haven’t noticed, I started another blog. An attempt to organize my thoughts. Am I successful? I certainly cannot see myself clearly. I avoid mirrors out of fear I won’t like the response.

But always I make my way back to writing. Still scratching the dust on the road.

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry, Soul Journal

Taking on the world. (October 2018)

lake glitter… sprinkle my life

of late
i recognize not
the girl in a mirror
looking distraught

i should be progressing
but my mind rattles.
here, sit awhile,
i promise not to startle…

then off i dawdle
to find some words,
express my heart
though rather curt

i sought me
lost along the way…
oh, but i found
amusing visions yesterday

garter snake

rock wall seasons

plant of many names

please pick up after yourself

(i brought home their cans and put them in the recycle bin.)

i dare
toil in my brain,
promptly tempt my lips
with your sexy care

kinda where
my heart resides
the trash can
ugly and obscene

insides even so…
forgive the past
the broken walk
tripped up feelings
long gone,
wade ashore
hoping i return -explore

Not sure i belong here… getting a feel! Bathing in WP love from many of you. I oft question my idea that i am a writer. How do i escape what feels like a prison? I get in these rotting moods… where i trash everyone and everything. I want to purge… i purge… than wallow in my loneliness.

Go ahead, throw me back in the pond!

On another front,
settling into
a new home,
a new town…
the comfort found
slowing my pace of life.