Found atop a blanket of motley colors,
A woman born of divine design,
what does she dream of, they wonder.
Fairytales full of splendor,
Fantasies full of surrender,
Suddenly she remembers how to shine.
Caught inside in the textures of our earth,
and the weight of why we’re here,
inspiration returns.
Her eyes see what no one else has to find, she is happy to believe.
Her fingers willingly touch what others presumably mustn’t,
and her heart is open towards the clouds. She is ready to receive.
delights in lemon; yellows and gold no brawny epitome of prophecy, in sunshine. daylight randomness of her existence mostly kept yet everyone’s caught sight
morning creates challenge feeling her breath push back against her face reflects the battle frenzy one mind, two ideas reluctant, her leading continues clearer moments, please
I laugh at how easily I ignore my inner voice. I am such a brat. Not that negative voice telling me I’m not good enough (I dislike her very much.), but the one warning me. The consistant kicking in the pants telling me to pay attention.
I listen clearly when danger is near and she has helped me. All other areas of life are ignored until I finally get hit with what I’m choosing to over look.
Seems by that point it’s too late for me to ignore my direction, because it’s hard to avoid the obvious. This is when I get hurt. If only I would listen to her pleas.
My body knows, my eyes see and my heart recognizes all inconsistencies, so why not allow them to do their job.
My voice. Why do I ignore her?
As I reflect in my review, she’s been spot on and she’s saved me from a lot of hurt.
I just don’t want to believe negative exists. I easily get lost inside wishing for what I want to happen because I believe goodness prevails in any situation.
Silly, Audrey.
I can trust myself.
I need to trust my voice.
I adore Lauren’s new song. Listen for me. This is where my clarity was found.
I just left Colorado a few weeks ago. The Rockies looked just like the mountains in her video. I feel like this video is for me.
Audrey, love yourself.
Geez, how many times have I read this over the years.
I get it now, if I don’t call out what doesn’t make sense how do I know whether or not I’m being too hard on myself.
I love my voice.
I hope you find my new series enjoyable. I’ve not done a series of poetry posts connected to one another so intimately, so this is super fun for me. And incredibly important moving forward.
I
I am
I’m just
I’m just sorry
I’m just so sorry
I’m just so
I’m just
I am
I
***
I’m sorry my words have been so dim as of late – for a long time now really. They’re lacking the beauty and happiness I swore I’d share when this site begin six years ago. There was sadness then and I wanted joy to survive the pain I felt, so I came here to teach myself to recieve happiness.
I’m going to do my best to share my light and the acceptance of myself again – the joy I know exists inside my heart. There is a little girl inside of me hurting something terrible. I owe it to her to show her beauty again, so I must try.
Not sure if it’ll be short stories as it was in the beginning (she likes those) or poems & photography, which aren’t perfect or winning any awards, but reflects what I see and feel. Bringing me much closer to love.
100 thank yous to those who still linger in my words. You are appreciated.
when I wrote to him
He wasn’t a stranger,
many would have assumed otherwise
’twas as if I’d known him
all my life.
no ideas of where he’d been
or what he looked like
just a simple understanding
he was broken, working
and incredibly wise.
so much of what felt like home
was his on the daily, but
consequently
still pictures of my childhood, were opened up by him and shown
to other people I
I didn’t know.
written by a man who knew me already
yet barely was the reality,
if at all actually,
oh, how it resonated with me so.
it being his voice, I hadn’t heard,
but my mind understood
my heart longed to be near,
these hands feared, for the touch
of his skin would be too much,
mine eyes surely would tease how
not a man such as him,
could ever understand a girl like me.
yet he is within me,
upon a heartbeat I no longer recognize.
conspicuous am I about
these cries of longing
living on shaking fingertips
of a poetess,
who believes she’s found a way
to feel complete,
but who would agree.
I hear regret in his voice
the mistake I was for him,
my soul aches in monochrome,
but yellow lives in bursts like Spring
and a Pink Ladies leafless show
I’ve seen purple, as if born from the eyes of kings,
and verdant in twilight’s glow.
the blues of Poseidon’s seas
and red from a rose;
white clouds in pristine,
and brown where life grows.
who wouldn’t want a girl like me
***
Been thinking a lot the last few minutes on how we teach toddlers the correct way to be social humans. The act of placing them in time out until they understand the lesson. Requesting they stay there until they’ve been told they’re allowed to rejoin the group.
We do the same sort of training on puppies, asking them to sit and stay until the command is given to release and enjoy.
Over a year ago I fell in love again. I fell hard for him. A future with someone had all the components needed to be successful, I truly believed. My mind is a beautiful place to be when love is the theme.
He’s my muse,
Maybe he’s forgotten,
Unable to feel
My arms,
How I’ve wrapped them
So many times,
Squeezing tighter,
Within my mind.
He’s the attraction
I adore,
The lust upon my tongue,
Yet I cannot reach him.
Left.
Aching with want
Living amongst the borderline,
Of am I enough.
I yearn for his trust,
As he longs for my mind,
If I give it away –
Then what?
He’s mine – my wish,
Like a daisy chain around
My neck; a gift.
I’d wear him with pride,
If he’d ask.
I watched tangerine turn into innocent sanguine, while thinking of you, and thoughts of how I want an “us” to be. Feathered blues, birthed since before noon, caused aquamarine streaks as twilight breathed – were you with me? My neck felt a breath, my back the push of a finger; the moment continues to linger.
when he becomes
more than just a dream,
my heart will beat
the sound of a thousand drums
my soul will ache
with the clinching of needy fists
my mind will race
towards a feminine understanding,
and butterflies will
make sense again.
their existence
somehow unbelievable,
until then.
Adorned, in verdant elegance
Care extended with his selection
Her spirit encouraged to thrive,
Wrapped in accessorized protection
Red, his jewel of choice
Listening to this on repeat today. And then my daily reading has me brought to tears. (As does much of what I’m reading today. A message is supposed to get to me, I think.
It has me focused on the last three words.
What woman doesn’t want to hear this from the man she’s devoted to? I cling to the idea love like this exists. I’m a hopeless romantic and a sucker for true devotion.
Pitiful Girl.
Adding the entire reading, as it might be helpful to another.
