Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Abandoned Voices

Abandoned Voices #2
I can’t keep the magic
happening
while the sky peels
back the gray.
Instead, I make an appointment
to speak to Dr. Such
and so the moment
melts away.

Same scene. Second glance. A vision that keeps turning my head. To walk the valley is difficult. To rise above circumstances, a feat.

The answers to life are buried deep inside each of us. It is the voices we tend to hear that promise love or hope or gifts that steer us off course. We tremble at conflict and derision and loss.

What magic do you hold inside that keeps you moving toward a goal? And when do you become an enemy to prized dreams and visions? What setbacks or traps have you allowed to sabotage your destination?

The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.

W.B. Yeats

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, Musings, Photography, Poetry

Thursday Doors —Sound Dreams

Letting Go of Control, 2020

Look deep within
to find the shape of you.

In the bliss of life, we sail.
Although nightmares prevail.

Dreams are doors to the unconscious. Yesterday’s dream had no picture. Audio only.

I know I had this dream as someone let me know I was in a euphoric state of happiness while deeply unaware. In this state, I released small sighs of glee and excitement.

I do remember the emotions now after being questioned this morning. I was reminded of the experience and I want to understand more. I searched for imageless dreaming and found relatively little on the subject.

So what would an awareness of life be like if we never sensed objects? What door would mean anything? Every step would be a transport to eternity.

So sleep well friends. Rest a while and may you be blessed with sweet dreams. Sound fantasy without image to bitter the taste.

Have any of you ever had such dreams? I am curious if anyone has leads to read further on the subject. Please send links!!! 😘❤️

Norm 2.0 Thursday Doors

Posted in Photography, Poetry

FOTD—Bluets

Cee’s FOTD Photo Challenge

Bluet

What delight Spring brings on the heels of a never-ending bleakness buried in snow.

Before the grass grows tall, the shoots of violets, bluets, and trout lily dance atop the forest floor. Before the grand tree canopies, the floral bouquet is gathered to adore.

After we succumb to woodland fragrance, the bumble and honey bee dance to wax and wane their appetite. After the world awakes, we rest in slumber for time’s sake.

To remember the wildflower dotting the woodlands come September will prove beauty’s allure!

Posted in Poetry

tragic.

Mirror,

how do you
tell yourself truth?
in bite-size portions, snacks
in-between meals or buffet-style realization?

The never ending comparison
words written
as if boobs matter.

Who else makes such remarks?
If not for Anne Sexton, i
would have no clue why
i am or am not.

Anne said it best…

“Perhaps I am no one.

True, I have a body

and I cannot escape from it.

I would like to fly out of my head,

but that is out of the question.”

let confusion continue.
you believed the wrong men. the girls
crueler than an autumn sun
toying with warmth.