After Glow

Morning

The magic rises
as a moon shifts
this world affords
such gifts…

the negative wove into my life…
like a knife it carved it hollow…
and my answer back
is to refill my soul with marvel.

The positivity of 2019 is tasty. I promise friends and loved ones to lick my lips long after i make this vow to pursue only what strengthens my resolve to live.

The Seven Bridge Writing Group begins January 8. The inevitable question of why and how and current goals will most likely be asked upon arrival. So i will prepare an answer for the facilitators and my fellow sojourners. In addition, in preparation for the writing group, I am reading Pat Schneider’s “Writing alone and with others”. Seven Bridges is affiliated with the Amherst Writing Group and more information for a local group, in your area, can be found HERE!

I am also busily felting creations… here is my newest 5×6 whimsical floral

After Glow

thoughts unleashed…

Well… you and i made it to experience another year on earth. I hope the approaching 365 days is good to you… full to the brim with positive thoughts, new adventures, reinforced friendships, old and new, with plenty of time spent writing and working on your craft. Or perhaps experimenting with a new method of expressing yourself. In short, here is to a creative 2019 of souling!

Be well beautiful people. Be well. Jeanne 💙💙💙🎶

Saudade

the night
settling down to rest
ruined by anger
in fallen dreams
and empty souls
settled in their queendoms
and i know those girls
petty pompous asses
looking like crack
with flirting golden tongues

they ruined
a middle school charm
he liked me
from afar he sent his notes
afraid to shift his hips
he fell for them
and left me wandering

ages ago
love knew me
now the night settles in
and i wait for what remains

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.

Border Wall (chaos ensues)

Border Wall

stone upon stone
i build this wall

Would you still like me
love me
if you knew
the words cluttered inside?

If i painted a picture
of my mind
the tendrils of poison
that caused us blind?

I am careless
and messy
with days i dont care
for you or me
not willing to share
i bury myself
under the sheets
hide for days
nothing to keep
but darkness
and misery
i apologize…

i am lost
thought i was found
just following orders
hardly a time
to celebrate.

Underneath exists layers… this is what hardens our bones. The heart does speak and lightens our loads.

Heading out and feeling guilty…

Life is full. Rapturous. Engaging.

how
easily
swiftly
defeatingly
im drug back
to the war zone -death.

Sometimes death frees more than the person gone. Other times it chains hearts to dreams and wishes. And then there is death that haunts forever.

I think our Creator is wrong… love will not save the world. Unless love is required to discipline. Unless love is required to forgive. Unless love is no longer allowed to hate the enemy.

woods

woods to myself
a disciplined dancer

knowing a poet
veer to his path

stumble along
flounder

land a fish
learn the ropes
always get up again

There are days of being lost in the woods, not knowing the fate, but just being a wanderer – That’s life -Anonymous

My truth at the moment… the freedom of wandering… letting loose! The excitement of new imprisons too… to feeling of anxiety, the unknown.