Not a verb but a feeling,
cold mostly.
The Ides of dark clouds,
hidden hope
of things not yet.
An ache to the bone of want and weather.
Tilting planets and ticking tempests
all teasing and testing
a season to come.
March
Night Shifts
Sliver moon
tricks the eye
a backward smile
in pain
how do you do?
not well tonight
I see.
Fade
Time ‘s brutal colors and memories
remain broken and fading
with nothing healed.
No comfort.
Just a place of lost words
in pain
twisted
lingering
alone.
Survive
Reflex
Remember
knowing the bite of Springtime dew
melted into sweat by noon.
Lean
Lift
quenching first a needy heart
then walking daily weighted dues
Collapse
Captivate
a wanting window found inside
lost then captured by the moon.
Collapse
From outside in
survival props subdue the fears inside,
where life is lost in battle songs
though oft their words forgot.
Survival brain protects and stands
against, and never for.
Safe until the moon sets close-
a quiet tremor felt
hushing winds
and with the sigh
you find
the self that fell apart.
Forget
Time and hope together dance
twirling drunken steps
like wind tossed clouds
circling skies
day and night beset
An unfixed pattern soon takes form
when pain forgets the hour
and moons of night billow loud as sunrise wakes regret.
Cycling
form shifting
cycling fresh in time.
spaces built for then, remember a now.
death consumes the moment and that next breath
taken deep with grace
creates….
Edge
Brown curling edges diagnosed
a death or disease supposed
but growing still with eastern light
reaching still in winter’s blight
buds reach high and hopeful
settled and composed
Dusk
Choreographed in complexity
Dark yet
Heavy tones spiraling out with exhausted sighs
doxology
Racism
White life speeds unimpeded by lights, flashes
History on their side
Fear not pulsing
Violently staying in their lanes, views
Blind and asleep.
#Racism #MartinLutherKing #WakeUp
Be
It is what it is
As if I were not entangled.
Stuck
lost in illusions of Control
It is
All the hate
not so hidden
rising to the skin
exposed to time and life
open air propagates
and the cycle spins
until the fire within
destroys
what once was
only a lonely soul
lost in search of love
surveillance
thumbprints press hard
on the outer part to shape shift being
into a failed construct
facade
hiding a soul looking for the light behind
to dispel shadows and such
searching for life beyond the creep of forced ideals
into everlasting peace
Utah Acquaintence
Woodhouses’s Scrub-Jay
#Birdsoftwitter
#Naturephoto
65
More years behind than ahead
Tomorrow with no lasting definitions or weight
Just a wall of trees guiding the way home
kissed by too many suns.
A touch of grace
to have and to hold
this day beginning to end….
Carry
Light within and upon
winged rise and sweetly lift
hum and hearth the needle drops
a playful tune to carry home
Jane
I am a Jane
proud to be and let life be
or not
no shame in that
no apologies made
life embraced in breath not forced
an inward strength and super power
within my heart and head
only I know ..
Jane
Sights on Spring
Morning Moons
Lighting the path beyond,
the moon leans toward a fate larger than death,
the eastern sun bullied by looming clouds of day.
Life speaks daily in the rise and fall–
hope wrapped in even the darkest morn.
Hunting Season
It’s that time of life when gentle and innocence fall
the eyes of the deer go dark
while the heart of sporting egos reign.
We all feel broken a bit
and generations suffer generations.
As foot prints in the snow crush the buds beneath
we all stay hungry for peace.
Maternal
Not thinking much about god these days,
trapped in stone and stained glass.
Though everywhere I look
tangible, take your breath away visions
most often
strong, nurturing and wise
like a Mom.
Branching
Tangled Twisted.
Winding Wombs.
Birthed beyond edges and endings.
Carried cradled warm with hope.
Veiled
What happens next is all unseen.
A new day, new year all veiled
Each breath treasuring the dark and unknown
whispering hope without light.
Leaving the ICU
What I saw
of a body punctured,
wounded alone
Cords and catheters
holding the surge
of life
Ventilated breath
until time blinked
on and off
In a violent dance
the parade began
Ieaving the ICU
Leaving
I saw it whipped
waving above
nearly alone
holding on.
I saw the cords
life surging on
from ground to stem attached.
Then off balance
in twinkling light
I heard a breath
release…
past all the others hanging still
a twirl and dance, a northern front
leaving ties
the shackles gone
and falling free at last.
November Friends in the Cold
#Nature #Photography #BirdsofTwitter
yesterdays
Today the flow slows
pressing the line
hard with whispers
of bygone time
and treasures
just now remembered.
#photography #nature #SundayThoughts
Rushed
What of a moment
makes for time to collapse
onto itself
into itself
until the flow escapes notice
and the big one gets away
Red
bleeding out,
stop
color blind,
hot
change and die,
drop
never blush-
red
Osprey
Cape Henlopen Delaware
9.22.21
fine lines
Amid the broken fragments
smoothed
by time and trauma,
lie spaces
thinned and shattered,
spellbound by weathered hope
and promise.
cut
With each step and breath
nothing stays the same
the cut is made
never to be undone
only hearts look back
and wonder why
love is lost
in sacrifice
Refraction
Time bends moist moments
into pain
birthing
refractions
of shallow hope
with life lines into tomorrow
Ohio Beauty
#HockingHills
The Kiss
When life is taken
Time stops
Reverses even
Memory cradles Moments
Mistakes and
Madness
Hear then the chimes awaken
All souls
Forgiven en mass
Resurrected
Kissed
Death to life imagined
Turns
Driving into the sun
left of center
Grace escaped
time beyond the rhythm
regret
Deep breath
hope
Speeding life beyond imagination
Days of Fathers
for Michael
Silent
Strong
Edges and borders
Marking love like a destination.
The grey in between, though, soft and caring.
Big-Brother-Like
birthed in so much softness
trained now to guard
the soul of hearth and home.
Beget
I will remember
this innocence
tattered by life and broken
dead
grace be damned
and fathered still
I will remember
though knowing too late
the father loss pain
of his begetting
Time away—skies the limit
Sparkle
Even in the darkest waters
Energy lurks
Enduring time
Enlisting seasons of change
To spark the flow.
Capture
The substance of love
mother to child
far more than touch
as bonding glances capture the soul
sick from want within
knowing life is love everlasting.
Nocturnal
When will it be okay to just be tired?
not angry
-startled by shadows of fear
not depressed
-nursing hate into despair
not anxious
-spinning wants into the air
Just tired
-resting calm
eyes closed
-finding peace
Regret
Listening
between the lines
of gray and green,
dreaming
lost in regret
with want and hope.
We own the place… right?
From Under
When the under stuff sticks
stays
like a cape
covering all the hurt
hate
from within
reaching up to find
a breath.
Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Pexels.com Robinson, Marilynne. Gilead (Oprah’s Book Club) (p. 7). Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Kindle Edition.
Love lost
Hidden
wounds
living time
beneath the
insecure reach
that trades touch for protection
Chill
A Great Lakes second winter comes with a chill
as leaves skip and fly across hop scotched grass
with the whistle of ones waving from the tree top
swinging between sun and shade
in want of spring’s rebirth
so full and drunk with salvation
Blending
Lost in the colors
of neighbors with barren views
desperate
everyone blending
searching
for a place called home
Froze
Future unknown
Trapped in silence
a work-until-death view
of life suspended
Froze.
Northern Siege
When light of day hits frigid ice, the melting rot will glare at us
history books re-calling now will tell of murderous rage.
Fake Patriots with sanctioned guns take the children raped en route
and hide their storied pain.
Our future ravaged all at once by predators and monster men
thrusting organs in our guts
wounding both from back and top.
As politician-speak is elegant, manning votes that steal our voice
we gather then to tend our wounds,
the Good and Pretti who remain.
The God forsaken in this war dethroned and wanting still
to comfort children, unveil the lies
and stir our hearts again.
And so on
The sun has set and I can’t find the moon
Any light at this hours is artificial.
Awaiting the earth turn, my face aging with all the tears,
I go sleeplessly unnoticed appreciating the not so quiet dark.
honestlylolly.com 