heard and its appreciated
regardless of distance
creation begins with ends
sight isnt always known
again, seems defeating, but beauty gains power, seen and listened to
graciously so
nature heals as do words
patience allowed
creates soft places
where new truly grows
When you suddenly realize you may, in fact, be related to leprechauns….
verdant the color
destiny ravishingly sought
astonish them all
Enjoy your weekend!
~Aud
a vision to enjoy,
breathe
rustic and pristine.
with an ounce of curiosity
I dream,
what stories are held within-
is this beauty, as she stands,
left for the taking,
or is someone keeping watch?
left to her own devises,
her strength must continue, remain hopeful in winter.
alone amongst the blanket of snow, she screams forlorn,
however you see her and she remains yours.
might she be worth the risk?
hardened by what he’d seen; by life,
the reflection behind his eyes created a flutter within me
like a bee for honey, I was willing to work and eager.
I remained close.
Structured and protective, with experience as his guide, I longed for his reverence.
his strength I devoured silently but wanted to wrap myself in for all to see.
like many, I wasn’t chosen.
life is a mystery and voices often confused, so I remained hopeful – just in case.
yet the determination in his heart is wide, and he has much to attend to
and so it goes.
Winter waves hello
as Autumn nods goodbye,
life is complicated
causing us to ardently ponder who am I.
Earth is round and life is ever after,
but questions often birth discrepancy,
so a refresh is in order,
dormant becomes necessity.
Memories are mounting
and wistful becomes normal,
up ahead are life moments to cherish,
yet this golden causes pause over what nature has nourished.
Lips bring a smile to life – awaken
as the sun begins to set,
twilight, a comforting picture,
and this prairie points West.
glows does the moon
beyond the branches, which held verdant prisms of summertime,
rich with thoughts of what could be come daylight.
a star just to the north points towards a path I’m unsure of
but regrettably stare into,
the cold air touches the tears I shed for the prayers I’ve said,
nothing makes sense as the fairytale ends.
night, oh night, you shout at me so,
what shall come of my young soul; trapped in a body at the peak of her age
clouds bustle by, such hurry
I ponder what awaits
just past the horizon of a foolish wish, held back by this garden gate.
conscience is a stream,
leaves fall but it sounds like rain; strum instead of fade.
seasons, they say, change
and Autumn begins to weep.
Mary sings of sugar
but it’ll take more than
a spoon
life in brown, red and golden hues.
explosive tones embrace our evening sky – breathless
twilight reaching out,
“wait for me, just one more thought!”
a vision of desperation
but far too beautiful for anyone to say
no, thank you.
You can hear the sound of this machine working
– you know you can –
if you’re as old as me,
and grew up in a small Midwestern town,
she was an occasional reality.
We heard about newfangled ways of serving others,
but what we had was good enough.
We understood how to fix her, simple trial and error,
no fuss or awkward searching – some days a little pat on the bottom, or the sweet whisper of, “come on baby” and she’d spring to life.
I smile because she was a dinosaur in the 80s,
yet we were proud.
Seems there is still plenty of good happening right here,
if you’ll allow it.
summertime is what I see
old barn needs some red,
some foolish Gen Z said
my response, “wanna bet!”
leave her alone she’s good as she sits,
what a glorious storytime tone this shade of red is.
afternoon surprise
babe’s breath chosen wildly
delightful workday
what is time without a watchful eye,
til color fades, we mustn’t
gray tones allow hope
say it is so, dear one.
how is it my hands feel the road and its bumps,
while tires roll atop –
proof we’ve been here before
and what a journey it was.
clouds become pillows,
for murmurs under the sheets,
and the rain in the distance
a melody I remember and
cherish, please believe.
today is full of beauty, I smirk
yet again.
passionate in the ordinary I shall remain,
and glimpses of tomorrows
shall nudge me forward,
across the plains.
as our sun sets I reach for you
a hint please, if even this exists.
why would I question
your strength surrounds me
the wind becomes your touch
the geese flying behind me
speak the words I long to hear
yet, in a language
I cannot understand.
my eyes settle on tangerine hues
as my world settles in
for the night.
I sigh good evening, my love,
where have you been and where shall we go?
Our minds are consumed
with a legion of details.
Where to begin deemed
obvious by most,
if you could feel the pulse;
a quickened heartbeat,
you’d know there’s no recovery.
We’re past all that,
bits too forgone to consider,
the beauty lies, quite perfectly
just beyond
and your hands belong there.
if you played the guitar, I’d listen
watch your fingers sort the notes
classic bass tones mutter,
they’re the ones I love the most
if painting was your passion
topography comes to mind
blues depicting life in detail
I’d sit pretty within the sky line
if the voyage across the seas
called you away; waking the beast inside
use your mind, I’d plea
wouldn’t be like you to hide
if photography was your passion
and you found me teary-eyed in wonder
nature hook’d a poetess of attraction
and to know her is to love her
insurance required
beginning of the ending
memory delete
make believe moment
silly self conversation
popping yellow corn
when gathering
for granddad’s funeral
no one’s vehicle tires turned into the yard similarly.
even gravel sounded different as folks drove in and chose a place to park.
the earth where his brown Ford pickup had been parked for nearly 70 years
– until Uncle drove it away –
had grass growing again,
but had for nearly fifteen years, I suppose.
I wonder if I’m the only one
who noticed. I never asked.
a wooden hand cross holds
my hand back; touched
a child’s toy soldier to remind
me daily of him; once protected
a rock from the mountains; pure
joy exists.
Compartmentalized needs.
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 