(circa 1998)purple people don't try to fly they just do except, of course, when they are lost in the parking lot of Pennsylvania and especially when they are tracking the elusive folk singer shhhh!! be vewy vewy quiet when the storm comes reach out your hand to me and lift me into your boat together we are aimlessly floating through a sea of thoughts and fears until the sun comes up once again too early in the morning i must tell you that i love you with every double bonded oxygen atom in my body ...and then some sporadic bursts of words appear infiltrating my sleepy brain until nothing makes sense and i'm not quite sure why everything seems so clear
Category Archives: Poetry
Poetic offerings from a wide awake woman.
Pheonix
daring adventurer
dancing the flames
of my own undoing
dancing the flames
of my own resurrection
journeyer;
expanding
in to
oblivion
what awaits me?
mystery
that which is behind me
i no longer need
you thought i was further along…
i thought i was catching up
really,
i was catching fire
burning alive
by my own virtue
burning alive
from my own passion
from ashes i rise
The Goddess of Loring Park
i met a goddess the other day
as i was walking
in Loring Park
she caught me quite by surprise
and
i couldn’t quite place who she was
(at first)
standing there,
by the pond
arms reached to heaven
in some sort of dance
she spoke to me
in a language i could not hear
or understand
yet felt deeply in my bones
maybe you have seen her
met her
talked to her, too
if not…
someday,
if you like
i can take you to the place
where Freya lives
as a tree
in Loring Park
Image credits:
Main image: https://www.pamreinke.com/products/goddess-tree
Body image:https://www.pinterest.com/pin/231020655855526407/
Gate 6
I lay this heartache
on the bare-bones altar
of all my dreams
WHO AM I!?
I scream in vain
A question echoing through
the empty walls of my heart
No one will answer…..
No one can.
[Image Credits]
[Creator:Picasa]
[Retrieved from: https://elainemansfield.com/2016/listening-dark-descent-inanna/]
Like a Weed
I hope the seed I am
grows like a weed:
Without any reverence for where I’m supposed to grow
or where it would be more convenient.
Finding the cracks and tiny spaces in everything;
spreading my particular kind of beauty
in the most unlikely places.
Image credit: claudialala.tumblr.com
My Next Bold Move
I need something familiar
some solid ground
where I can find my feet
I need something tangible
something to wrap my hands
or my head
around
some kind of guidepost
safe guard
security blanket
I want to stay
everything screaming to run
I want to run
everything screaming to stay
hanging on the precipice
of my next bold move
image credit: by Rafaelll90 in Manipulations, discovered on http://www.ordinaryservant.com
shattering
I see you with her
so tender
so indescribably sweet
love pours from every fiber of your being
a miracle before my eyes
I ache with regret
all the way to my soul
those precious little moments break me
a million pieces
scattered in every conceivable direction
you are so in love with her
and I…
I have missed my chance to swim in the ecstacy of every coo
to marvel at each imperceptible milestone
I missed your first kiss – off chasing dragons
that’s the price I pay for being too selfish
or maybe too sick
to notice tender moments incubating miracles
the price when
from conception
a child is an inconvenience
I didn’t even know what I was missing
I do now.
my only salvation
is to feel this exquisite heartbreak
writhing between longing and ecstasy
knowing that this shattering
is that love
Photo credit: http://photobucket.com/images/eyes%20crying%20blood
Five
Life creeps in around me
and I weep
I feel out of place
disconnected
my own star
dim by comparison.
the collective looks so beautiful
there in its other world
colors twirling, unfurling
embracing
cracks in the wall,
even the ones that enclose me.
eyes down in grief,
transformative beauty before me;
the evolution that would happen
should I raise my glance
to meet its eye
aye, face down
I weep
and life creeps in around me.
image credit: Shadowscapes Tarot
New Photosynthesis
It was summer 2001. California was suffering perhaps the largest blackout in history, which started late 2000. Politicians were all over the news talking about conservation. It sounded more like an empty prayer for political support than real hope. The US was at war in Afghanistan.
I was listening to a lot of Ani DiFranco, working in an extremely conservative environment, and finding hints of mySelf playing peek-a-boo from behind the walls of a paradigm that wasn’t really mine.
In my usual sardonic tone, this crept out the end of my pen…
New Photosynthesis
The parking lots have begun to photosynthesize
And the air out there, well it smells real nice
A better version of grass has taken hold
But the kids don’t mind cutting it as much as the old
We cut trees away from the power lines
The squirrels and the birds are doing just fine
But the folks in Californ-I-A
Can still only see by the light of day
The man on the hill cries conservation
To a crazy, confused, and misled natioin
Captivated by every word,
Believing the truth is what they heard
But the folks in Californ-I-A
Can still only see by the light of day
The White House is still white
And the politicians are too
At least from what we can see
By the liberating things they do
Equality and freedom were the promise
White christian male the default premise
Thank God for those old blues guys from Mississippi
And the generation that invented the hippie
Or we’d be up to our ears without any soul, brother
And in a war over a war that was fought for another
Oh yeah, we are.
******************************************************************************Photo credit: https://www.sciencefocus.com/nature/how-does-photosynthesis-work/www.pintrest.com, Hippie Movement, pinned from tree-nation.com
Wide Awake Woman 