Monthly Archives: March 2014

Beyond Horizon’s Eyes

We look beyond 
what we think is the horizon
never stopping dreaming
among the realities of our existence
The eye does not close
even when the lids are shut
For the eye is the answer
when studied
by another kindred spirit
They see right through
and into
They peer out into the beyond
too
We stand apart 
yet side by side
for no matter what lies between
there are dreams
there is hope
And this keeps us
from dying a little 
each day.

IMG_1255

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Filed under Sunday Night Sonnet

As They Slumber

When all is dark 
and silent
I mean to say
When the world is asleep
I creak up stairs to
peek out the window
and view this which others
are unaware
The boats moored in 
a campsite of refuge
Water Like glass
enabling their peace
The calm of night
deep night
not too far from sunrise
All that is heard
is the tweet of a distant bird
Lights illuminate entryways
but those beyond doorways 
slumber
ignorant of my 
wandering
I wonder what dreams 
flourish in those sleeping minds
as my breathing 
falls muted
and my eyes unable to
close tight
to stargaze
against my tattered pillow.

IMG1754

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Voices

Last night I did dinner and a movie with my kid. Despite last week’s report card being abhorrent, he came home yesterday with a citizenship award. I nearly dropped his ripped, crammed three-ring binder on my foot.

As we sat there at the pizzeria pre movie, picking and eating the bubbles off our slices, we stared at each other as if mere strangers. Or perhaps people who’ve come to know each other so well there was nothing left to say. His preteen aloofness was hanging over the mozzarella and gnawing at my cheerful disposition. Still I didn’t push too hard.

Eventually the conversation went from me going on about something I can’t even remember now to him slowly opening up to me the way he did just months ago. He revealed to me why he has been acting out recently, why he can’t make decisions, why he’s afraid. I can’t break his trust so I won’t go into details. But let’s just say it had to do with voices.

The voices we hear in our heads can sound like our own. They are the yin and yang of our existence and decision-making. They can sound like our parent’s, sometimes full of praise, sometimes belittling. They can sound like a voice we wish we had but were not born with.

After dinner we sat in the back row of the movie theatre and watched Lego 3D. I pride myself on recognizing the voices of the characters in animated flicks. Morgan Freeman was one of them. But pretty much everyone can recognize his strong, smooth, calming timbre. One of my friends told me she falls asleep to Through the Wormhole, narrated by the soother himself.

We plowed halfway through a medium bag (cause it’s just a dollar more than the small!) of popcorn as we donned our plastic 3D glasses and laughed at the witty dialogue. I laugh out loud. My kid doesn’t like this. Anyway, it was a pleasant and much-needed Mom and son date night.

This morning I was reading one of my poems to myself. And of course that parental voice chimed in. “Did you really do all the editing you can to make sure this is finished?”

Then the yin interrupted. “Ah, but it is finished when it is finished.”

Yang added “The end is the resolution and the beginning the question.”

I pondered these suggestions. Then I decided to reread the poem again. But this time with the voice of Morgan Freeman resonating through my brain. And it. Sounded. Magnificent.

Morgan Freeman

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Filed under Observations

Two Ships

Two ships were moored side by side.
As the early moon began to brighten 
with the fading of the winter sun
one ship said to the other

"I am the luckiest ship
because the moon casts its glow
right above my mast." 

"That might be true.
But from where I sit
I can see the moon hanging 
in the distance."

The first ship pondered this.
"Yes that is true. I do have to tilt
my bow to see its entirety. You can stay
secured as you gaze at its beauty."

The second ship replied
"But I cannot see the sun
from where I am anchored.
It is hidden by the trees."

The first ship responded
"I see the golden sun setting
every evening. But it has faded
my canvas."

Both ships sat in silence
One wondering at the distant
bright white full moon
The other wondering at the
silhouette of the closest star
fading behind dancing branches.

"I know who is the luckiest,"
the first ship said.
"So do I," said the second.
And there was no need to speak.

Two ships were moored
side by side.

IMG_2325

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Filed under Sunday Night Sonnet

Enter Title Here

I’ll be honest. I have no idea what to write. My writer’s guilt is trying to bury me in its heavy sand. I’m supposed to go out with the girls tonight but won’t feel I’m owed that unless I get something out there. To you. My dear readers.

My arm is sore from a beautiful tattoo I got yesterday. It’s a tatt of a quill pen. Now what kind of writer would I be if in the week I got this work of reflective art on my body I did not at least spend some time with my quill pen of 2014– my computer’s keyboard? All the crumbs from protein bars and peanuts have been wiped away from it. I know I shouldn’t eat at my desk but it has become a nice little habit. One more minute spent at the keyboard is one more possible word written, read, or commented on.

Why is it that some weeks the words flow like water coming out of the bathtub spout, while other weeks there isn’t an even annoying drip? Does my brain need rebooting? Am I too focused on life’s dramas? Some of both?

Busted Flip Flops. My solace. My respite. My breath of fresh air. My busted little home away from sometimes busted little home. I have to dust off the crabwebs. Shovel out the sand. Fill it with a sea of words to keep it alive and satiated. Keep me alive and satiated.

my tatt

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Filed under Observations

Ache and Exhaltation

It is an ache
yet a calmness 
all the same
There is a difference
in everything 
It's as if 
the universe has expanded
into meaning above
what it was just now
A puddle of exhaust
is a colorful palate
lying on smooth asphalt
A question of existence
is no longer a question
To feel this ache is to live
and I know I must keep moving
for what is to come
will be the answer
But for all that has been 
said and done
although right and beautiful
what lies ahead and is present
has opened my heart
to breathing beyond mountains
beyond prairies
beyond what I ever thought possible
And it is not so magnificent
without trials
it just IS
and I am exalted
indefinitely.

IMG1698

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Filed under Sunday Night Sonnet

The Knaw of the Teeth

Last night I dreamed I was in a pale white corridor. There was no one there except me and the lion. I heard voices in the distance but didn’t see who they belonged to. But I knew they were there, just ahead.

The lion and I were hungry. I had somehow found a rabbit and killed it as I held onto its cold, white fur. My waking self doesn’t eat rabbits, or any mammals for that matter. But I’m thinking this was pure survival.

I tossed the rabbit towards the lion. A grand, altruistic gesture. Just when I began to smile in self-gratification the lion leapt over the rabbit and lunged at me. His teeth dug instantly into my neck. I could feel his warm breath on my skin. His coat rubbed against me as if it were a soft, hairy blanket.

“This is it,” I thought. “This is the moment right before you die.”

I wanted to scream to the voices. But I knew there was no chance of me leaving the lion’s grip. There was nothing anyone could do even if they were to appear at that very moment. The moment that would be the end of my life.

I thought about the rabbit. And I wondered why the lion chose me instead. But in a flash I knew. The rabbit would be there after I was gone. And my being gone meant no competition for the lion. No threat.

In those final moments I was not angry at the lion. This was not personal. He was only following his instincts.

That is the nature of the beast.

lion

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Filed under Weird Dreams