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
Posted in Photography, Poetry

Send in the Clowns

Nuts Larry, we are on! 5/2020
Who can breathe
with words lodged between
ugly and uglier?

Send in the clowns
the skies are grey
laughter the medicine
a crying world deserves.

Someone trampled my flowers
stole honey from the jar
left bees buzzing around
a crown
I no longer desire to wear.

Spirits descend from tree branches
ready to spread fear
with mushroom poofs to hide a view
already hampered by night terrors.

Send in the clowns
the skies are grey
laughter the medicine
a crying world deserves.

Their voices rage
no longer bridled by JFK
or MLK
we face assassination
we waited too long to remedy
injustice for generations.

Greed
and disconnect
the snowy television screen
hides no tempered noise.

Send in the clowns
the skies are grey
laughter the medicine
a crying world deserves.






Posted in Musings, Photography

Week in Review : B & W

There was one too many people who took it upon themself to deflect and blame and incite and flame hatred against sisters and brothers. And if we cannot find it in our hearts and minds to be personally responsible to protect a sister or brother in harms way, how the hell does love win?

Its unfathomable to think one can use a uniform to justify brutality. Maybe this time police reform will happen? Which politician will stand up and bring real change in policing policy? Who?

In the mean time, I hope MLK supporters and other civil rights protectors, will not get lost in this chaos. That forgiveness and love will pave a way forward for those who stand for an innocent life stripped away.

Posted in Photography, Poetry

Abandoned Voices

We learn to accept and mourn. Not necessarily because we would choose to witness changes. Change is anxiety ridden and mental complications arise from foregoing what was once comforting. Rather, we adapt to new surroundings to lessen the anxious feelings.

body aches progress
no rain last night means
the task of watering plants resumes
bee balm has budded and bloomed

the trek up the stones
two black spruce saplings
and mountain ash twigs have rooted
a coyote takes notice
her footprints sniffed and noted

a cooling wind arrives
soft brush against her thighs
lady’s slippers have vanished
printed dress lays longer than knees
feet bare and blackened soil

coyote and mistress howl
between leafed branches a sighting
bones sorted among rocks
abandoned toil to rest
the new moon arrives with joy
Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

FOTD—Planting Seeds

A few days back, these grape hyacinths were at their peak. As they stood attention, bees collected pollen while the days faded. All holding a promise, that tomorrow, faith rests on fate.

I believe in today. And see the grand scheme rise up before me. I put my hand to the soil and till the earth. Spread my pocketful of seeds with a smile. And water the dirt with tears knowing this too will pass.

fading memories
grandma at the kitchen stove
stirring her pickles

hidden kittens purr
i feeding the baby calf
bowl full of cow’s milk

My Promise Garden arose from my grandfather’s suicide. The vision grows wherever I land. I have held this dream in my heart for 32 years. It only vanishes with my last breath.

Cee’s FOTD

(I have written about My Promise Garden, my brother, and my personal struggles before. They reside, buried in this ever evolving blog’s pages. Maybe those words will bud and blossom too. If I ever find the energy, I may edit my raw words into something more elegant. Until then, I rest in my meager efforts to get across how precious time is. Thank you friends.)

Posted in Poetry

Arrangements

If i were to talk 
because i held a certain trust
that words left on ledges
wouldn’t be pushed
shoved or trampled

what would your answer be?



The flowers carefully cut
each slice affords another view
each decidedly new
to the possibility of desert juice

so let’s drink up under the star’s canopy.



And if the end starts
another conversation
would you stay past midnight
under the blanket tent

I pitched while cleaning house?



Dressed in bleak
we stand and speak
of autumn nights that ramble
while holding hands

and rehearse our final vows.

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Abandoned Voices

Most people endeavor to do life justly and loyally. Although we learn early on just how broken life becomes once the safety of home (our minds and bodies) is lost.

Why should we toil when a flower blooms eloquently without second guessing the push to find the sun?

In fertile soil
promise of milk and honey
hungry bellies bulge

Is it only our thoughts that cause us to fail? “I lack confidence in my voice.” “I tremble at everything I do.” “I worry this charade is a show put on to please.” Sound familiar? Or is there more to life than waking up?

Each day we should learn to take the path of least resistance. We have what we need to grow built into our DNA. You are alive and a million possibilities await.

And when life becomes totally unbearable, when we fail, that too is just. For it is then we learn forgiveness. To stare into a stranger’s eyes and whisper, “I welcome you friend.”

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Wabi-Sabi

I updated my site again. The second time this year. These new beginnings are another chance at survival. Embracing what I will become while accepting the current condition of my heart and soul.

I gently ease into this new idea of me. Playing around with logistics until it feels like home.

This is where I am. Wabi-Sabi. An imperfect ideal of being me.