I am hunkered down
leaned forward low
my knees gripped firm
to stay fluid in the flow
rising effortlessly high
t’ward clouds of pearl white
clearing every hurdle
landing sure and light
steed of goddess magic
possessed of purest heart
endurance that’s olympic
ride’s steady from the start
I gallop her freely reined
letting soar the sterling soul
her spirit not restrained
the joy of freedom is the goal
arching gracefully through the air
jumping an indigo sky mare
~ ~ ~
Poetry is a statement of empowerment, that sets the soul free, to be exactly who you are — and in being just that, to introduce your truth to the world!
__________|*|__________
I stand at land’s end
atop a soaring precipice
jutting into the Pacific
observing an Osprey
it’s suspended in flight
aloft on the westerly breeze
billowing up
then wafting down the cliff
I’m mesmerized
stretching before me
undulating azure blue
falling away
over earth’s edge
into forever
unfurling below
a white ribbon of sand
fragile
pristine
a breath between eternal sea
and towering rock facades
flanking left and right
in sweeping panorama
Indian Beach
the Oregon Coast
in all it’s majesty
this is my summer perch
since first I discovered it
thirty years ago
now it offers me brief refuge
from the COVID pandemic
sweeping the world
my thoughts are adrift
just then
the breeze freshens
disrupts my reverie
tosses my hair
buffers my chest
I shudder
bracing against vertigo
swept up in a feeling
oh to be un-tethered
weightless
no longer earthbound
like that Osprey
my eyes close
my soul lifts
takes wing
soars skyward
I’m flying!
~ ~ ~
Poetry is a statement of empowerment, that sets the soul free, to be exactly who you are — and in being just that, to introduce your truth to the world!
__________|*|__________
while strolling this ridge alone — unaware
through tall sun-drenched trees I happen to glance
a valley that nature conceals with care
a magical realm where woodland nymphs dance
I can not believe the wonders I see
wee sprites join the dance — then fairies — then elves
this enchanted vale awhirl below me
mythical spirits enjoying themselves
dare I go down there and join in the fun
my mind is spinning – of course I must dare
so down the mountainside quickly I run
then burst through the trees – but nothing is there
how can this be they were just here – but wait
could this perhaps be that mushroom I ate
~ ~ ~
Poetry is a statement of empowerment, that sets the soul free, to be exactly who you are — and in being just that, to introduce your truth to the world!
__________|*|__________
you’re golden in winter’s sunrise
neath skies blue as your eyes
I thrill to your sweet kiss
a beauty to hypnotize
early songbirds will know spring’s breeze
crocus will know the embrace of bees
my heart’s bursting with bliss
for I know love’s ecstasy
~ ~ ~
Poetry is a statement of empowerment, that sets the soul free, to be exactly who you are — and in being just that, to introduce your truth to the world!
__________|*|__________
I was reading an article about the troubling amount of child abuse going on behind the closed doors of isolated quarantine. I wanted to share this I’d written. I had a very difficult childhood, in an extremely chaotic and upsetting home environment, dominated by an extremely manic, paranoid-schizophrenic, racist grandmother. Life was disrupted daily by her bizarre ravings, which continued from my childhood until her death in my high school years. Her daughter refused to institutionalize her. We just tried to hide her away, and when she’d get out — my adoptive father, and later I as well, apologized to the neighbors, the police, and the FBI for her insane backyard and telephone ramblings. We’d clean up the messes she’d make around tge neighborhood. She would chase any friends who tried to visit me away with brooms and mops, cursing horrendously while doing so. We lived a strange, isolated life because of her. I just escaped into fantasy. I survived and overcame this madness. I introduce you to my imaginary childhood friend that got me through it all. His name was Big Bob. In the heart of a terrified young boy, he was more than real…
Trouble In Dry Gulch
~
you were my truest friend
my steady rock of safety
my captain of escape
you were always there
the amazing man of magic
the hero of the weak
defender of the helpless
my always gentle friend
when the footsteps in the hall
woke me in the night
I would feel you tug my hand
and under we would go
through the secret passage
you kept beneath my bed
to the waiting viking ships
and off to fight the dragons
in the land of snow and castles
carved from clear blue ice
in flowing robes of fur
we struck with swords of gold
you were very brave
in the face of fear
I knew you would appear
never laughing at my tears
when the grating metal rasp
of door latch in the dark
would bolt me from my sleep
you would have the horses ready
we would thunder off to dry gulch
to wrangle up our posse
save the townfolk from the bad guys
and return when all was calm
you were very swift
in a snap you would arrive
in time to get me out alive
helping me survive
below the ocean we would dive
in your crystal submarine
down to the coral world
marveling at the creatures
we would leave the sub
to swim among the wonders
to dart and spin and float
far from pain and worry
you were very smart
my midnight flight arranger
you knew to rocket us from danger
far from any evil stranger
we would soar to venus
in your special silver starship
or to some other distant planet
and do battle with space monsters
and when they all were slain
we would fly the milky way
circle round the bright star clusters
thankful to be weightless
no matter how afraid
I knew that you would find me
knew you’d never judge me
I knew how much you loved me
knew you’d have me back by day break
with the dark night far behind us
and the warmth of welcomed morning
would once again embrace us
the midnight footsteps now are quiet
the ships and rockets sailed away
no more trouble comes to dry gulch
the crystal sub so long in dry dock
my final adventure now unfolds
it’s time I go this one alone
you have traveled on ahead
all nightmares brought to stead
I’m not sure I ever thanked you
perhaps took your love for granted
without you I’d never made it
you are emblazoned ever in my heart
~ ~ ~
Poetry is a statement of empowerment, that sets the soul free, to be exactly who you are — and in being just that, to introduce your truth to the world!
__________|*|__________
I received a marksman’s medal as an Army Reserve Officer Trainee
Now I hate guns, and I hate war!
NOTE: this is written with my deepest respect for the men and women, past and present, sent into the teeth of hell to fight, kill, suffer, and sometimes die. This is a heartfelt thank you for what they endure, and a quiet tear for what is so often sadly lost.
My Killer’s Mouth
~
it was an embrace
I’d wished had been endless
at our tearful farewell
your body supple and warm
pulsing with life
as we kissed
lips lush as cognac
open softly to kisses
urgently linger
the taste of your kiss on my lips
I passed through security
turned and fixed on your gaze
praying it was not the last time
I’d look into your beautiful eyes
I wandered dazed down the ramp
to the jet that would take me
to the fury of hell
I locked your face of love
deep in my heart
That cherished image
proved my grasp on sanity
through two years of horror
through the sting of separation
the bitter taste of war
the foul stench of death
I return this day
facing reality at 30,000 feet
the salt of sadness on my cheeks
bitter on my lips
not of my making
but I feel the guilt of war
I’m frightened to see
to touch you again
but I burn to do so
I’ve been waiting so long
so different now
my hands angry with bloodshed
innocence is lost
I fear a kiss
from my killer’s mouth
will forever defile
your precious lips
lush as sweet cognac
that day we parted.
~ ~ ~
Poetry is a statement of empowerment, that sets the soul free, to be exactly who you are — and in being just that, to introduce your truth to the world!
__________|*|__________
Oh what joy, to be un-tethered, no longer earthbound, taking flight and soaring skyward! The freedom of feathered wing over hollow bone, riding the thermals, climbing ever upward, gliding and circling effortlessly. I feel the warmth of the sun, as I drift through the heavens, free as the enveloping breeze — such bliss!
Suddenly I dive earthward, wings tucked, rocketing down toward the crystal blue of a crisp mountain lake. My enhanced vision pierces the clear surface of the water, penetrating all the way to the bottom. Spotting my target, I sail out over the lake, racing purposefully, a talon’s reach above the wind-blown chopwater.
In the next moment, I connect. With a slight tilt in my wings, I soar skyward once more, my prize secure in my powerful grasp. I lift toward the top of a massive conifer, towering at water’s edge. Reaching the peak, my wings at full extension, I flap them gracefully backward, pulling against momentum, and softly land. Home — the victorious hunter!
winds urging my wings
lifting me gently skyward
at peace in the clouds
“What do you mean Eric,” Grace inquired, the strain obvious in her weary voice. “who exactly is going to take on Sebastian — and why?” Her voice trailed off to an exasperated whisper. The why was not so much a question, as it was confused frustration. She seemed to know the answer was much too complicated to address at this hour, and she was too spent, physically and emotionally, to want to hear it.
Grace turned away from Eric, head lowered. Her arms fell limp at her sides, fingers splayed. She was trying her best to process what her friend Eric was saying, to understand him — to understand the recent events that had brought her to this place in time — to make sense of anything. Her head was spinning, and she could feel the fatigue deep in her bones.
She dropped back onto the sofa, half sitting, half lying down — an exhausted slouch. She felt paralyzed, thoughts racing through her mind, fragmented, disconnected thoughts.
She looked at her hands, palms down in her lap, her eyes glazing over. Her vision drifted to her wrists, her left wrist in particular — to her watch. Slowly, through her fog, it came into focus, and she realized she was staring at the broken crystal face of her Audemars Piguet Promesse.
Ever since Sebastian had given her this watch for their anniversary, her life had turned upside down, but it had also turned a corner. Fate had pushed her round that corner, and she would never turn back again. Her life as Mrs. Kensington was over.
She knew this, knew it as surely as she knew she missed her children. Something must be done to get them out of that house — his house. It could no longer be her home, but they would always be her children, and she feared for them. They had to be part of whatever direction fate was leading her.
It was fate that had broken the crystal. Fate, and her quick reflexes, blocking Sebastian with her forearm! He’d lashed out at her in anger, following their anniversary dinner. But why? Had she known his violent nature, things would be different. Where was fate leading her? Her thoughts swirled midst her exhaustion.
