it drifts down dolomites of death hanging over our heads, as grief drips, drips from our heart it breathes in cave air punctuated with shadows light streams in my lips an open sore a gap of time with no tales Where to go? breath alone, and along the way I pause to say … but you are not there within those corridors along lonely halls … Continue reading That Wisp of Longing
I was recently wondering, and not for the first time, where I would be now if I had not met Tim. Back on that Thursday, October 3rd of 2008, what would be different now? At the time I was a sad, lonely cat and wondering which way to turn. I did not like what I was doing any longer, much as I LOVED the people … Continue reading Rising Out of the Mist of Yesterday
“The poet is an anomaly in our culture. The goal of our culture is money and power. And that’s not exactly what poetry is about. What is it about? That’s a hard question. It’s about anything the human mind and unconscious can produce. And that’s infinite.” [Stanley Kunitz] And living life within the confines set by our society is certainly not what writing is about, … Continue reading A Poetic Vocation
“Does It Pay” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox If one poor burdened toiler o’er life’s road, Who meets us by the way, Goes on less conscious of his galling load, Then life indeed, does pay. If we can show one troubled heart the gain, That lies alway in loss, Why, then, we too, are paid for all the pain Of bearing life’s hard cross. If some … Continue reading A Blessing for Sunday
Interior Portrait by Rainer Maria Rilke You don’t survive in me because of memories; nor are you mine because of a lovely longing’s strength. What does make you present is the ardent detour that a slow tenderness traces in my blood. I do not need to see you appear; being born sufficed for me to lose you a little less. Continue reading A Blessing a Sunday
There is a place I roam, a short walk away from my back door. After the quiet village streets, the little forested glen charms you. It leads past old apple trees, young oaks and majestic Maples, through a twisty and almost sentient and hopeful forest. Up the grassy hill you are drawn. It’s said this place is haunted. Yet I believe it’s merely been wounded. … Continue reading Thru The Enchanted Glen
I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear the lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core. W.B. Yeats [Irish writer and statesman (1865-1939)] CITATION Irish Blessings Continue reading Blessing for Sunday
When I came up with this idea last week my thinking was this will be easy…choose a blogger or re-blog a post you like – simple. HA. Right. Simple. NOT so simple I found out this week. The whole idea actually this week seemed rather arrogant. Who am I to feature a blogger, when some of the bloggers I might want to feature will no … Continue reading Tickle My Fancy – I hear Voices
I am hiding something in the cellar. A bench a piano bench. I am broken. In a night full of shame; after I left. THREE TIMES. I tried to walk away. couldn’t this time. WHY? Now I am alone with the truth. Continue reading I am a broken piano bench
it’s what I do. I take my mop, my dreams, and I turn away. Sometime between somewhere amongst the trees I lost my way. Continue reading I walk away
I walk on tear drops from a thousand eyes, as ancient as the core of a mountain. With gentleness profound and earthly, I feel the subtle shifts of a mind. In brief moments of disbelief, I see into a thousand tomorrows’. Forever concealing the nature of their existence, I shelter the secrets of those many hearts. In flesh or dust, Through centuries or millenniums, I … Continue reading Spiritwalker
by PaulaB 