i long laid down my pencil
liberated from reckless love
my pining heart grew
for grassy meadows
and sun lit skies
of opulent hues.
Something beautiful to focus
the agony of the world
relinquished to peaceful calm.
windows cage the sun to bloom
can feel ground
head in the clouds
i will rise to fly
Oh my. I think i said too much. I can be quite careless, sparked by passion. Lit by a struck match and ignited by fuel. Kaboom! I have definitely gone off in too many directions.
Without giving away every secret attraction, i best quit while ahead of myself… wait for my senses to catch up.
No worries though. i am rolling towards a cool breeze to sit near the waves. Settle this sizzle. i need to cool off. Lava easily burns. No need to hurt myself or others.
i will find my footing and self-discipline. Discover where i want this blog to go.
What life holds in the cradle of birth waits in the depths of dark…
Staying out of the movers way!
Looking toward the day
I can rest my mind and rhyme -Think!
Set up my writing desk
find a place to paint -Dream!
until then, i pledge
to stay out of the movers way.
The biggest day of my life, since i moved to Indiana, has arrived. From this day forward, i move without knowing the future. Security is in the past. Adventure awaits those who walk with eyes wide open.
Trying not to cry! Feeling the exhilarating new of Boston on my brow! My heart is racing, wondering what lies ahead.
And excited to have lots of time to read back posts. See you at your blog soon!
Do we owe apologies when life happens? My heart ♥️ is discombobulated at the moment. I miss you dear readers and i made a brief appearance this morning after a welcome disappearance from the world. A friend and i made away to the wooded hills of Brown County, in my expedient retreat from the hustle and bustle of moving. And i stopped to breath. And a few words made it to the surface, popped and left stains on paper. I shared them with you from the encouragement of another. Thank you for reading.
death of an era
I have not been able to read any of your blogs and i want to. I desperately feel i owe you that curtesy and i cannot fulfill that endeavor. I want to be able to think, write and paint. But i cannot. I want to reach out, touch and exchange smiles. But i cannot. I want to scream, be heard and cry. But i cannot.
Life happens. But i am not.
I remain enclosed in self-protection from the chaos of realtor showings, movers approaching with boxes, tape and sharpies. I am spinning and not on tip-toe.
At the moment i remain confused. I do not profess to understand the complexities i am passing through. Your worlds are miles away and cannot be reached. My world is slipping from my hands.
my promise garden
These are moments to cherish. The labor of my hands have shown to say hello, one more time. And goodbye forever.
I wrote a poem to a friend this past weekend. (See below.) I sent it off to him. He did not respond. Silence weighs heavy on my head. I do not understand his absence after sharing his desire to reciprocate. Another of his small deaths looming?
found the feathers
who wastes their life?
bundled in piles
faded ink scribbles
unable to decipher his path forward
entangles with her promises.
but my heart beats
let the rhythm
drive you closer
what was she? -looking for
in no uncertain terms
lace is lace
so who -then?
— Read on Fabric on the Daily Post
What are we willing to give up? What would i find behind your curtain as i swing it aside? Have you, will you, consider letting me know?
I wait. Anticipate. Is this a game eagerly played by two? Or only i?
Am i setting myself up for your opera. Life over as fast as it started. Slow. Drawn out misery. Ending with a cry of freedom!
A peek behind the madness of death exists behind every curtain. It matters not your fabric woven. The rapacious appetite for breath carries us along.
I do not plan to go anywhere. Neither behind your curtain. Or stand before it. I want to be your covering. Shield you from peering eyes.