Thursday Doors (on Saturday)

Jeanne©️

time passes the grail
rusted nails held against me
squeaky hinges fail

This bird and I. The eyes capture all. His advice? Don’t shut the door on seeing. Listen, and the mystery of life will rise up to greet you. There is no greater act than to love.

Norm 2.0 Thursday Doors

First Hint

Copyright free image.
His words appeared
as green shoots
in frozen brown
and I waltzed into
the memory of smell,
a fragrance he once wore
on the crisp autumn air.

The seasoning chimes
and the raw breath released,
he floated away
with me
curving through the cumulus
and running breeze.

I really never know

The vibrations flowing through my body are quite strong. An earthquake shakes my thoughts. The sudden creative rush stops me from moving. I reach to pick up a pen. Stare out the window to watch a storm approach from the west. The mountain encased by fog. Neither of us, pen or mind, can function. We are not heard and the mountain stands still.

Ive been meaning too.

Sometimes life expects us to make confessionals. My list happens to be growing as I recollect events that I am sorry for. For instance, in the midst of my grief, shortly after learning my brother John had taken his life, I stole a plant. A flowering plant at a local grocery store. The reasoning being I had always walked the straight and narrow and while my anger was bubbling up, I lashed out in order to inflict hurt on the world I once loved. I struck back at the heart of existence.

Then again, what belongs to any of us?

Unleashed Thoughts

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

Never the same. Again.
Nothing.
Her hands
held out, reaching
empty spaces, vacuous trances
silence held in sacred space
missing.

A million trains travel through my head daily. I miss every damn train. I arrive at the depot, out of breath, with frantic nerves from tireless searching, and grief enmeshed between pores. Looking into the glass-enclosed diorama, I strain to see the impervious face of my heart.

Dreams and dreamers

What is it 
about time
that keeps you
from taking hold
the reigns of your mind?
The dark alleys
exposed in the changing
seasons forevermore
demanding you move along.
He stands

waiting.

She loves the flow
of his words worn
around her neck, bent
from past love obligations
and surprisingly -he

understands.
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