all around the world
silence peaks the flower bud
eyes wide open, look
Tag: poetic living
Worried (Thoughts Unleashed)
My mind worries about everything. For instance, I contemplated if I should allow comments or turn them off on my blog. I don’t get many, so that is not the problem. The problem is coming across the right way in my answers. Please don’t get me wrong whatever I decide. I will only worry more.
Then, I worry about food. My mother was very overweight and I was deathly afraid of ever having to be seen. So I refused food until I became a mother. Then I ate as if I never tasted spaghetti or tuna or chocolate chip cookies before. And I still have a propensity to over eat. I love the taste of food and I am a pretty damn good cook. Just wish I never had seen a plate, fork and knife. I am doomed.
And the last thing on my mind this morning is a dear friend who sent a note. Should I write back or wait a while? I once confessed a growing love while guilt tripped me up. The feelings were built over tides and shifting sand. I never intended to devour the sour or sweet. Meanwhile, insecurities continue to flourish under the bridge to cause more angst. Oh! to speak out loud, these morning thoughts, chases the sun away. I should go play under the clouds and worry alone.
Just Dance
It’s the natural order. —Samuel Beckett
What am I doing here? Does anybody really know? I suppose some of us do. The smart and put together ones.
I sit up nights worrying who I am. Resign myself to think I may never know. Knowing one day I am sunny and the next day I send shivers up the coolest cat in town.
Life was going swimmingly. I had plans. I felt my square edges had been rounded to fit in society’s cylinder vision. Then, you know, a virus spread like a bad case of halitosis. Why didn’t someone tell that person to keep their mouth shut? Yeah! I wouldn’t have the nerve to tell someone either.
Then I have another problem. The world is divided along political lines. And religion. And between truth, morality, and friendship. I’m somewhere in the gray area of exhaustion.
I realize I am as much to blame. So I sit and wonder. Will I have courage to change my life to compensate for these wavy thoughts.
No. Im not suicidal. Not this time.
Still, I need a break from this break. Sit awhile and sing me a song?
handmade
there are no
cohesive thoughts left
to talk about, except
scrap fabric
sewn together
makes for a great quilt, so
we both indulge
the textured landscape
lips sewn tight
********************
The last quilt (see below) I completed before the Ohio Buckeye quilt (above) was for the Children’s Circle Preschool I worked at from 2004-2006. I miss the kiddos. They brought me such joy.
I hope to finish a few more quilts in my lifetime. They bring me pleasure to make and give away. To commemorate my Astralorp chicks arriving on June 1, I started a Chicken Collage quilt. The first block is done.
(finished date tbd)
Something New (waiting for the rain to subside)
printed shroud hides soul’s image
flowers stain the tears
Next up, acrylics thinned with gel medium to paint on cotton muslin with various tools found outside. Once printed, the cloth should fully dry before ironing on a medium cool setting. Do not use steam and press about 3-5 minutes. Happy creative!
Did you come?
Can anyone hear the lark sing
I wonder. The rain knows
the words that twirl
to form the song
inside this vacant heart. You
removed all the furniture
placed into another room
wallpapered with old paintings. Never
knowing which was your color
i painted the reds of maple blooms
spring leaves only a few days old
they held no shape for us to know
how these days would go. And
now they bleed into years
of birthdays spent walled between plexiglass.
Yesterday’s reflection lied
as eyes peered to watch a head linger
a long pause …
the window hurts from all the noise
it rattles from my fist
poised to strike against me.
My Promise Garden
There exists a place
where grace imparts
a smile on every face.
Where flowers bloom
and chicks do roam
and honeybees buzz about.
The woods they speak
of you and me
we set a spot of tea.
The wild creatures
come and romp
dance so gaily.
And in the end
our heads will root
between the dappled sun.
I am always grateful the days depression departs my soul. Today I feel free… How are you? 🙏🏼💙🌊
