Category Archives: The Pen

Sea of Dreams

photobucket

I spent so many moments
looking up and dreaming
that it hardly seemed worth noting
I got lost one day in clouds
the rainfall covered me
and all the land around
I was mesmerized by colors
of soft hue so water
rose and still I dreamed it
seemed to gently rock with waves
as hair spread tendrils floated
land became a myth the sky
was real tiny fish swam in
and out of seaweed tresses
ocean motion waves the tides
will come and go but sky
remains and I am lost
in dreams forever near the clouds
bright sun will warm me til the moon
takes on the job of lighting fires
on the sea a thousand diamonds
shattered glass to draw my eye
horizons distant my descent lies
deeper than the sky I close eyes
thinking drifting water
streaming all around the sound of
sea birds singing siren songs
sailors sextant readings measure
distances from star to star but
I know deepest night makes
star miles farther than the farthest
galaxy the nebulous hold of gravity
is not my law as I float softly
feather blown wave tossed tide lost
lines crossed but not erased the place
I seek is here inside the dreaming
I remain no pain no worry hurry is
a memory from time long ago so
ripples cover ocean mother
giving birth I am an island shore
breached sun bleached salt leeched
sand beneath me misty dusk set
of the sun the day dreams into night
as I am rocked to blessed sleep
I sink into the deep don’t weep
when I am gone for I am floating free

the image was the prompt and the only credit given was photobucket. If this is your picture please let me know and I will be glad to give credit or remove it.

All God’s Children

Word of the Day was Lollop and probably a little influence from reading Paschal

joy the fat cheeked babes
all pinch and tickle
hear the giggles squirmy
rolly polly children run for cliffs
no fear of falling that comes later
but for now we lollop ‘cross
the bumpy backyard berry
picking dandylion wines are pining
for the firefly summer evening falling
softly all around the curly noodles
soupy doodles in the steam
you twist it left and twist it right
and still it slips off spoony
loony tunes and sugar babies
got a magic bag of tricks
all day suckers extra licks
maybe hugs and maybe running
off into the sunning motes of
sparkly shiny catches eyes and
last look back then off they fly

Invisible Stone

Sunday Scribbling #250: invisible

I feel
like two people.
One goes through the
day, doing the daily things,
all the things that make me
look like everyone else…
and how they have so
very little meaning,
trying to find one
moment each day,a purpose
to make sleep restful

The other me watches…
watches all and wonders
if this skin can hold me.
Is there something
curled deep inside
invisible that needs
to come out?
Am I the stone that the
sculptor works to uncover
what is waiting to be seen?
Or is it just cold marble
fearing the hammer blows
that could shatter into
millions of tiny jagged pieces.
Who wields the hammer?

Do I choose or is the choice
made for me?
I hear music but am I
a singer?
I want to dance but do
I understand the meaning
of the steps?
Will my grandchildren come
on Sundays to plait my white hair
or will I languish in drool
cared for by minimum waged
strangers who wonder
who I was (if they stop long
enough to care)?

Will you remember something
I said that time and wonder
what did she mean?
Do I know secrets that I hold
close and hint at because
the soul is a deep place
or will you shake your head
and say “what a waste”?
Will I rest under green grass
feeling sun warmth?
Will a bird light on the stone
and sing to me?
I wrap my chilled arms around
myself and look out into the dark.
I know I am here.  I see my
reflection in the glass.

Keeping Watch

walking through the cold morning
two blackbirds swoop down and
yell at me as they pass by
gliding on currents
that move silent over my head
wake up! wake up!
shiny ebony spots in
a gray sky reminding me
that spring will come on the
same currents blowing warm rain
to green the earth and melt
the goosebumps on my arms
sleeping winter dreams
sprout spider lilies around my feet
and shake out the blue sky
wake up!  wake up!
I’ll wrap my heart in blankets
and tend the fire
keeping watch with
blackbirds

Startime

mundane chores
pinch cheeks
I move through days
forgotten hours
clocks foreign language
but mirror hands
tell stories

I put out a finger
touch stars in
deep night
thinking to find
answers
but silence echos
I feel nothing but cold

Mateo and the Dragon

Three Word Wednesday CCXXIII moist, yelp, harmless

This is for my friend Matthew – get well soon!

Long ago, when dragons still roamed the earth and magic was everywhere, there was a perfect kingdom, nestled in the southern realm. Austonia was beautiful and there was plenty to eat and beautiful sights, but the most beautiful place was the castle where prince Mateo lived with the the wise and kind King and Queen and his younger brother.

Mateo was a brave prince and loved the King and Queen and his baby brother and he had a very good life.  He was kind and liked to learn and was growing taller and smarter every day.

Sometimes even the luckiest prince has some bad things happen and one day a dragon appeared outside of the castle. Mateo, being a brave prince, knew that he would have to be strong to defeat the dragon.  He put on his cloak and slipped outside the castle gates with his sword and a bag of magic potions that the wizard had given him.

The dragon was big with gold and green scales and mean black eyes.  His tail was huge with spikes on the end. He was spitting fire at the castle and scorching the beautiful stone walls.  Mateo yelled at the dragon to stop and the dragon was so shocked that he turned and stared at Mateo.

“Who are you that you should yell at a dragon.  You are small and I will have you for dinner! You should run now so I can chase you.” The dragon was very tall and towered over Mateo.

Mateo stood his ground though he was a little frightened. “I am prince Mateo and I am not running away, dragon.  I am afraid but I can be brave!”

The dragon screamed so high and so loud that it shook the walls and hurt Mateo’s ears. Mateo reached in his pocket and opened the bag of magic.  He took out a small bottle and drank it.  His ears felt better and he smiled at the dragon.  This made the dragon very angry and he slapped at Mateo.  Mateo ducked and the dragon was not able to grab him but he scratched Mateo’s eye.  It hurt and Mateo let out a yelp.  He was scared but he reached in his magic bag again and took out another bottle.  He put some moist, magic potion in his eye and it still hurt a little, but Mateo could tell it was getting better.

“I am still here dragon!  The dragon was so angry that he spun around and jumped up and down and Mateo stuck out his sword.  The dragon was so busy jumping up and down and making the ground shake that he didn’t see the sword and he landed right on it.  When the sword pierced the dragon’s great scales he made a hissing sound and flew around the outside of the castle shrinking until he was harmless and the size of a little green bug and Mateo quickly stepped on him and he was gone.  Just then the castle gate opened and there stood the king and peering from behind him was the lovely queen holding the baby prince Wyattello.

“Mateo you have saved the castle!  You are a very brave young prince!”  The King and Queen hugged him and took him inside to the royal kitchen where he had a huge bowl of chocolate ice cream and cake.

Take Your Turn

every day in rooms
that are never black and white
decisions are made
people are moved like
pieces on a game board
no monopoly on pain
the red queen wants to
live on boardwalk
but now she is unemployed
the duke of hearts is selling
a lifestyle on the corner
and you will pass go and
pay your money down if you
go that way the deck shuffled
up the ladders and down the
chutes every decision changing
the score and the ones who
hold the rule book keep
changing their minds
foreclose on this property
raise that one’s taxes
spend the retirement fund for
those guys they won’t have a clue
they will gesture all they want but
book or movie rights won’t make a
difference to the one with the
gun in the library whose health
insurance was canceled when
his wife needed an operation
the game of life is multi-colored
and we place our bets but the
only sure thing is in the end
our castles all fall to the white king
checkmate

image credit: http://www.gallery4collectors.com/MLWalker-CastleKeep.htm

Uncontainable

You think you are clever?
Let me make you a promise!
My will trumps clever.
Concrete can’t choke roots
that burrow deep into soil.
Tall buildings can’t completely
block the sun and the rain,
the sweet rain, will still reach me
and I will grow.
Birds will nest in my limbs
in spring and hatch strong
babies that will remember.
My leaves will shade the old
woman and her shopping cart
in summer and she will
continue on her journey.
I will part traffic and slow
the hurried drivers to keep
them safe and I will grow.
The asphalt will lift
as my roots spread and weeds
will sprout in cracks for
I am life and I will
not be contained.

http://www.tonylawphoto.com/files/images/landscape/tree.jpg

From The Bus Window

east Texas morning
takes it’s time
leafless winter tree fingers
stroke the rosy dawn from
sleepy pastures
where lights
flicker in early riser windows
and coffee is starting to perk
I am alone in this crowd
contemplating the possibility
of a new day and the
serpentine path of geese
shifting lines that follow
an ancient wisdom
I try to listen but there is
nothing but a deep silence
that lives somewhere in their wings
as the world wakes below

Potter’s Hands

from mud and sticks my soul was born
though vestiges of past remain
I do believe that pieces cruelly torn
make stronger though they leave a stain

for grace can patch the sorest rend
and stitch a patchwork velvet soft
the artist will each detail tend
and raise the fallen high aloft

in gratitude I bow my head
unworthy of the potters plan
mud and sticks go where they’re led
and I will rest in the artist’s hands

It’s About The Wings

AP contest Entry

For years and years I lived
inside a cage of my own making. I
don’t know how it was built. I only know
I somehow felt it and I woke one
day to bars and knowing I was looking out
and stuck within, but I am breaking free
and spreading wings and singing loud.
I’m taking off and soaring sky high. Why
you ask? I tell you now, that in the cage is
not a place for birds or people hearts and
not a second too soon says I. I fly
and wave goodbye to those
who stay in cages, though the bars are
breached. I reached and high and
higher even though the sun may scorch
the downy feathers freedom is a sweet
sweet song. The bounds are slipped and
gravity is just a dream I left behind inside
my mind I have the love, the hope, the
strength, to leave the planet, pass through
clouds and loudly take the flight. The light
will guide me. I will close my eyes, but
still I see with soul and heart and in the center
deep and true I know I flew and keep
the ground behind, below. It’s not for me,
for now I know that there is nothing holding me
to earth but fear and doubt. It’s not about
the cage.
It’s about the wings

Image unknown from photobucket

My Passion

A contest posted on All Poetry asking the question: What is your passion?
Rather than a constructed poem, I just wrote some thoughts.

I know I should but don’t,
have patience with those
who wish for death as though
it were a great adventure,
a solution to life’s troubles.

I know I should look forward
to heaven and a part of me does…
but I am in this world.
It’s all I know, though heaven is
dreamed of, prayed for.

Faith is a tricky thing.
I have it, but need more.
For now my passion is
divided between this world and
the next.

I love this earth, the sky, the sun.
The creatures that roam the land
and sky and seas are a wonder…
the sound of music or babies laughter
the feel of my husband’s hands.

The smell of coffee in the morning,
or gardenias in bloom,
the feel of sun on my face, and
cool grass under bare feet…
losing track of time in a good book.

So many things that I love,
and you ask what is my passion?
There are many things that
I could say. Music, writing, love
But the answer boils down to this:

Life.

Shelter

AllPoetry Prompt

Rictameter using angel as the two syllable word


angel
winged beauty
wingspread shelter o’er me
protect me lift me hold me up
weak flesh feet ankle deep in doubt and pain
only grace can lift and cleanse make free
you can fill empty spaces
make this clay holy gem
shine God’s light my
angel

Cinderella

The party was a big success.
I had the shoes, the hat
the dress.
I danced dawn under the table
and I drank until my nose  well
you know…
but
I never got his name –
the one who danced,
who’s hand was at my back
and guided every graceful step
as though my feet were
winged things
and smiled awhile.
I never tired.
Now I sit
and wonder if
a hundred years will
pass ere I forget
this night,
this dance.

Image Prompt: http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/10/11/03/girl,glamour,vintage,fashion,retro,surreal-4870a22c65bd353f962a8596bec6d1cc_h.jpg

Rainy Day Windows

To see with the narrowed down
single-minded concentration
of a child who has discovered art
in window condensation.

To forget the rest of the world
and become one single moment,
clear-eyed, one with reflection,
joyfully joined with beauty.

To look at a drawing
with imagination.
To read words and envision
a heretofore unseen universe.

To lose the concept of time,
moments stretch to days,
hours shrink to seconds,
then sails in a tub to dreamland.

To grow up to be a super-hero
pirate, fireman,  whatever can be
dreamed, be drawn, be seen
in rainy-day windows

Image prompt: Window Pictures by Barbara Fox
contest was for 15 words and obviously I did not do that – this was where the picture took me.

Christmas Eve Bells

On Christmas Eve the bells did ring
Oh Holy Night rang through the streets
Joyous refrain the carolers sing
On Christmas Eve the bells did ring
Anticipating newborn king
Poor shepherds watched with angels sweet
On Christmas Eve the bells did ring
Time kept by snowy boot shod feet

All Poetry Contest entry – first attempt at a triolet. These were the requirements:
“A Triolet is a poetic form consisting of only 8 lines. Within a Triolet, the 1st, 4th, and 7th lines repeat, and the 2nd and 8th lines do as well. The rhyme scheme is simple: ABaAabAB, capital letters representing the repeated lines.

To make it more challenging, make each line 8 syllables in length (4 metrical feet), written in iambic tetrameter (the more common way).”

Christmas Spirit

We focus on the season
the Christmas spirit
speeds from the sky
whooshes through streets
all around town

It lights on the hand of
the Salvation Army bell ringer
and causes the pause of
the shopper who digs for change
and shrugs and drops in a bill

It glows from the child who smiles
at the lights on the manger
in the downtown square
where the carolers sing Emmanuel
sparkling in eyes

It breathes and the smell of
cookies and pies drift past
the kitchen and down the hall
as a finger holds a ribbon that
becomes a bow

It wraps round the shoulders
of lonely old spouses to lift
grief for a moment and bring
memories of love and family
as the doorbell rings with a gift

It fans the heat from the sidewalk grate
and the homeless man stirs
as a cup of hot cocoa is handed
and a ride to the shelter is given
warm blanket for the night

It melts the snow on shoes in the hall
and rings with laughter and chatter
friends and relatives gather
and smile as children sneak
cookies and hugs

It ruffles the hair of the soldier
opening the package from home
carrying breath of a mother’s
prayer for safety and peace
pride mixed with fear baby boy

It joins in the candlelight service
as Silent Night fades and
folks tramp through the night
to homes remembering, laughing
dreaming, hoping.  For a better new year.

Never Too Late

for fun…

heart          beats

bent but not broken

all second chances

no such thing as

causes that are

lost

**update – Thanks Elizabeth for the heads up on how to fix my centering issue 🙂
You rock!!
well this was interesting.  I got it to center at AllPoetry but after five tries it just doesn’t want to play nice…evidently you don’t always get a second chance with WordPress…