Posted in Photography, Poetry

Fleeting Floats Beyond

Is it Spring that welcomes you?
Or Summer heated blues?

Nothing stays long enough to know. —Mary Szybist, Incarnadine: Poems

My head aches with worried words
the squirrels chattering all day long
it is “nuts” i say
to play this way
so i venture on.

And in the view
I capture two
spaces, far and near
my heart feels lost
the cost too much
and time wonders why.

Is it Spring
that welcomes us
dancing in the street
where no one drives
the coast is clear
your feet travel far.

I loved you once
and tried again
to be brushed aside
rushing for the sun
where all darkness hides.

I forgot green runs too
so long they last
the brown songs past.

We once walked single file
holding beaded pearls
and slowly

I let go the rope.
Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Abandoned Voices

Lady Slipper

Atop the rocky hill blooms one exquisite Lady Slipper. She, a Spring passage to Summer, and I haven’t switched over my Winter clothes.

Lady Slipper 2.0

Three days later pink color appears. Her cheeks ruddy and weathered from sunlight. She glows. A rare sight to behold. A lady has her ways.

The intricate life of the North American orchid ‘Cypripedium acaule’ fascinates. The flower lures bees with smell and color. Once inside the pouch, the bee realizes the store is empty and has only one way out. With such news, the trapped bee scurries to find the exit sign, whereupon pollen deposits and collects. https://www.fs.fed.us/wildflowers/plant-of-the-week/cypripedium_acaule.shtml

What do people know about us? Separate from what we have told, how can others know us? What symbiotic relationships do we pursue in order to fruit?

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Abandoned Voices

Abandoned Voices #2
I can’t keep the magic
happening
while the sky peels
back the gray.
Instead, I make an appointment
to speak to Dr. Such
and so the moment
melts away.

Same scene. Second glance. A vision that keeps turning my head. To walk the valley is difficult. To rise above circumstances, a feat.

The answers to life are buried deep inside each of us. It is the voices we tend to hear that promise love or hope or gifts that steer us off course. We tremble at conflict and derision and loss.

What magic do you hold inside that keeps you moving toward a goal? And when do you become an enemy to prized dreams and visions? What setbacks or traps have you allowed to sabotage your destination?

The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.

W.B. Yeats

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry, Soul Journal

Abandoned Voices

Abandoned Voices #1
To taste the air.
To know the wind.
To watch a bird
take flight
and welcome home
freedom’s fight.

To touch the ground’s
growing heartbeat.
To know our day’s bleak
as we are weak
to ever soar above.

If we understood each waking hour, what sound emerges for us? What lays at the edge of every step we take? Is freedom ever found?

The glimmer of hope rings true until the descent brings one closer. So how does one revive the home fire when all the logs are burnt?

I hope to continue Abandoned Voices through a series of photos that capture thoughts and answer questions. This being the first photograph, edited.

Posted in Art, Musings, Photography, Poetry

Thursday Doors —Sound Dreams

Letting Go of Control, 2020

Look deep within
to find the shape of you.

In the bliss of life, we sail.
Although nightmares prevail.

Dreams are doors to the unconscious. Yesterday’s dream had no picture. Audio only.

I know I had this dream as someone let me know I was in a euphoric state of happiness while deeply unaware. In this state, I released small sighs of glee and excitement.

I do remember the emotions now after being questioned this morning. I was reminded of the experience and I want to understand more. I searched for imageless dreaming and found relatively little on the subject.

So what would an awareness of life be like if we never sensed objects? What door would mean anything? Every step would be a transport to eternity.

So sleep well friends. Rest a while and may you be blessed with sweet dreams. Sound fantasy without image to bitter the taste.

Have any of you ever had such dreams? I am curious if anyone has leads to read further on the subject. Please send links!!! 😘❤️

Norm 2.0 Thursday Doors

Posted in Art, Poetry

Did you come?

Flicker 4/20/2020

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.

Posted in Art, Poetry, quotes

Iron Sharpens Iron

timid soul sparks light
a feeble space to wonder
sharpen iron words

And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Thursday Doors (Open or Shut)

The heart is the door to your soul.

What doors do you require to walk through, to understand yourself? Your neighbor’s door? Your back door? A stranger’s door?

Jesus said, ‘I am the door’ (John 10:7) in order to make it clear that no one can come to the Father except through Him. 

The church
of and for
and is
the people.
I am ill.
My heart is broken
in need of deep repair
and I wept at the sign
hung around my neck
that read “tired soul”.

Worcester MA has many beautiful church buildings. These church doors were closed so no inside photos. So why do churches lock their doors? Why do we feel it is okay to criticize these doors being locked versus locking our home’s doors? And to be fair, they posted a sign to try the doors on a side street. So when did I stop knocking?

Wesley United Methodist Church

Thanks to Norm 2.0 Thursday Doors for hosting all the doors weekly.