Posted in Photography, Poetry

Week in Review: B&W

Endurance. Fire. Water. Emerge. Make a splash. Boundaries and halos. Forgiveness. Clarity. Path forward. Joy. Fog. Agony… The peace promised will arrive on time. Do not give up.

It has been quite a week. How has your week been? Care to share? Please do.

Posted in Poetry

Stones

I never carved a word
into anything permanent
because “What is truth?” anyway

studying love
i discovered my blank mind
was dangerously close to hypocrisy

i smoked every flavor
sank my teeth into sugar
rubbed my ailments with alcohol

i brushed bugs off flowers
held the leash too tight
fought against God

and other people’s entities
draped as silver chains
and golden idols of mediocrity.

I once made a pile
stones stacked as fences
stretching for miles

met people who stopped to wonder
what energy provoked such nonsense
whether we agree or disagree
someone will come by and pick up a stone
laid gently to stop
only to be thrown

Just wonder how you write? This came to me in the past ten minutes. Is it any good? Make any sense? I throw my life into the poetic mix and wonder do my thoughts matter. Why matter anyway? Just drink my coffee and run. As always, comments are acceptable forms of relating here. Cannot say we wont misunderstand each other. But I will try my hardest to be available. Shalom, Jeanne

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Happy.

No apology necessary.
No mask required.

I hope you wouldn’t expect me to say sorry. The first half of my life was lived behind a mask of guilt, duty, shame, and lies. And then freedom arrived unannounced. As easy as life exists for clover, I too have found this summer easy. I’m living and boundless. Spreading my hope around tree trunks and watching butterflies take to the sky.

I hope autumn promises me the same. And winter pledges no harm.

Posted in Photography, Poetry

Abandoned Voices

a silent heart weeps
that has plenty to say
why bother though
when the distance distorts the sound

without facial contortions or sight
our love blindly believes lies
when our mind feeds our prejudices
on both sides of this fence
Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Week in Review: B & W

Last week was a whirlwind of activity. The chicks are changing drastically every day. Wing feathers are fully formed, downy fluff is molting, and their curiosity never ends. Every time I lift the brooder lid, they come running. They think every visit is feeding time. They are settled though, and like newborns, they need lots of restful sleep. It was then time I enjoyed some drinks on the back deck. And make a few wishes. Every thing in life seems to be solidifying. My dreams I have held so long are budding.

*****I am live this morning, writing on my back porch, looking out into a forest that stretches for an often visited 2-mile hike to reach a beloved pond. Sitting here, I cannot see the pond, or what is frolicking in the gentle breeze. But I suspect there might be a few geese, a heron fishing and a water creature causing ripples. Life. It is fragile and precious. This is but one day to celebrate what will never come around again.

At one juncture, the worn path to the pond crosses over a paved road, which causes one to be cautious, before embarking the final stretch of shaded wood, wildflowers, and bird song. All life congregates at the well. There, we are watered with physical needs as well as the spray of emotional and spiritual hope. If the pond dries up, life vanishes and moves elsewhere. If one remains, stagnation settles in and death occurs. Some will chose to die that day. Fear crowds out existence. Anger builds from fear.

I sip a cup of hot coffee, warming me up to the chilly start today. And present here are flocks of flitting Goldfinches eating River Birch seeds. This occurrence happens every June. In the same tree, a young squirrel is climbing to find if I have put out food. Cautious of my presence, he decides to ramble on. I take another sip of coffee and wonder. We need boundaries. We need to recognize our safe distance from others. Not to tread heavy-footed. But to be humble and listen. To understand and love.

Come sit on the bench and reflect with me. Where is your life heading? Are you ready to give into fate? Or will you push the ending far into the future? Life gives us multiple choices and opportunities to second guess motives, decisions and contemplate how best to achieve goals. What dreams and visions occupy your time? How will you be fed? And rested?

Until next week, shalom. Jeanne

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Sneak Peek: Week in Review

I couldn’t wait to post on Monday. Six Australorp hens, corralled in a cardboard box, arrived at the post office early dawn. It was joyous to find out no casualties.

Just two days old and their wing feathers are forming. The hardest heart cracks as egg shells when these chicks peep! 💛🐥💛🎶

dawn breaks open hearts
the first light enters pitch black
chicken family hatched
Posted in Poetry

Sole Witness

She lay face down
water lapped her skin
blue now from delphinium petals
laced around her sin

He parted the sea where she lay
traced his chin
coarse whiskers whispered
secrets she began

Their bodies rose
hovering the waves
lessons taught in verb usage
as their souls witnessed death

and of a life left obscure
while the grass grew around
two hearts as one
with a million eyes to watch

the atmospheric pressure
build bare hands to cover
private thoughts
and of heavens to come
Posted in Poetry

Contagion

I keep recycling these magical thoughts in hopes mushrooms sprout where all can watch and wonder how love works.

What does this even mean? I suffer alone under my floppy summer hat. Hold a candle to my eyes and you will find invisible tears streaming inside where evaporation cannot happen.

I will spare you the grey clouds. Maybe there never were silver linings in my mind. The hypothetical me exists alone.

(I hope DeAnthony will always remember I cared. And he makes his momma happy forever.)

Posted in Photography, Poetry

Summer Discoveries

I dig deeper. There is no secret to be found in my endeavors. Rather, to discover the gentle floating of a petal on a cool pond come summer, satisfies.

I think I am going down another rabbit hole.

two standing
the corner grocer
door ajar

bargaining
playing a game

hands and mouths
moving time
wind remains the same

talking of wrinkles
a brown bag bottle

hands in the air
surrounding the chill
grandpa let go of the throttle