c’est la vie

 

Muses are working overtime…

dancing a joyous circle around my soul;

their filaments of creativity spin outward.

Epic outpouring causes evolution in reverse;

no longer marooned because of feral indecision,

the freaky mute button effect has been jammed.

Taste the sweet manifestation… such is life

with compassion and sorrow – the great ocean

of emotional strengths in all its remarkable array

becomes a master of my undiscovered illustrations.

The truth always lay before me – c’est la vie…

1/3/2013

inspiration : The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.   Emily Dickinson

**************************************

Years Ago

 

Settling in for the duration,

She was past the fretful fifties;

Thankful for past hot flashes,

She luxuriated under a heap of blankets.

Loving the feeling of being tucked in,

The heavy quilt kept her dreams weighty.

The perennial gray gloom was not bad;

The long dark nights held some sadness.

Mischievously she found good things to say

Even when her friends scowls launched in sun or rain.

Bitterness and remorse had slid away years ago.

1/4/2013

Inspiration: Every experience, no matter how bad it seems, holds within it a blessing of some kind. The goal is to find it.  ~Buddha

**************************************************************

Basking in Life

 

Round and round

the daily circle turns

wobbling in life’s orbit.

Complex organism

builds up to break down.

The old ashes to ashes

and dust to dust haunted

sunrise to sunset…

stuck with when would it end.

Not in a rush to leave…

body was defiantly slowing down

while an active mind searched for meaning.

Circling back… realizing again and again

that keeping it simple,

treading lightly on the earth

in bare feet to feel it all,

she’d simply returned

to the beginning.

Singing heart,

glowing spirit,

basking in life…

1/8/2013

Inspiration: “We shall not cease from exploration; And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started, and know the place for the first time.”  T.S. Eliot

********************************************

Attachment…

Zoning out in front of the TV,

an epiphany besides the cat popped up.

Wincing slightly – kneading paws –

ultimate shinny hair ad

lead to picturing a local Zen monk…

Edo’s head is always shaved.

A lesson in detachment,

hair or no hair,

what does it matter?

Attachment absolution…

whining about thinning hair cleared.

1/10/2013

Inspiration: Everything that has a beginning has an ending. Make your peace with that and all will be well. Buddha

******************************************

Smudge

 

Smudging the old year away,

the sage and sweet grass smoke pushes

into corners assisted by a buzzard feather.

The feather that used to ride the winds

circles the stagnant air in gentle gratitude.

Empty mind’s eye watches wafting dissipation;

scent swirls with physical movements tickling nostrils.

The dogs follow this steady exertion in and out of rooms.

Old year fades away with each flick of feather; outside,

colored branch tips wiggle against the gray wind of winter.

Inside the spiritual smoke of renewal cleanses bequeathing

new life Into this shifting season of restoration; breathing

deeply, the four directions  gift spirit to walk in beauty…

1/11/2013

Inspiration: Earth, ourselves, breathe and awaken, leaves are stirring, all things moving, new day coming, life renewing.  Pawnee Prayer

****************************************

Heroine

 

If I don’t write down my song

no one else will write it for me.

Nothing fancy or esoteric…

notice the inflationary word.

Keep it simple is my goal leaving

most big words to others who flaunt

their prosperous undulating intellect.

My tongue appreciates simplicity;

phrases roll into ether without

getting caught on taste buds or

In-between tooth crevasses.

Poetry is my link to past and future;

sitting in the present, thoughts raise dust

that settles onto my face and hands.

Wrinkles and age spots on an encased

soul that knows no age or limitation.

Poems connect this self to the inner one;

I am a poetic heroine raising myself

upward and inward one word at a time

until I receive my gossamer wings.

 

1/12/2013

 

Advertisements