I wrote of you today,
Adjectives in abundance,
Baby, you amaze me.
And damn,
If I don’t make you look good,
Goin’ down.
Tag Archives: Inspiration
Inamorato’s Moon
Moonlight path sparkles,
Guiding my hazel eyes,
Evening winter walks,
By the sea’s side.
Waiting here,
Torture,
Salty air,
Reminds,
Rhythmic waves,
Taunt,
Inamorato’s lullaby.
Moon tries,
Soothing,
But, he’s gone again,
Weary is the traveler,
Who stole my heart.
Sisterhood
Sisterhood,
Together we are one.
I cannot deny your essence,
Nor could I ever measure beside,
But, just so we become verily clear,
Your existence now surrounding him:
Champion of versed rooted strength,
Provides my journey’s refinement.
I am you
You am I
Leaning into the remedy of his skin,
My eyes upon your desire to be close,
I witness your valuable life flourishing,
Becoming tolerant of your nearness,
Understanding why we’re both here,
I begin to care for you, as well.
Your presence nourishes me,
He, is pleased.
Yesterdays
Reminiscing
Sat wondering
Looking beyond
Pensive
Into arrogance
A quality I accept
As part of me
But you are so lovely
My reason to dream
A Walk Worth Taking
The only task I do not dread
A walk it seems
Provides a clearing, for my head
Whispers of lessons deemed important
Copper tones of yesterday
Found living within my world
Glistening in enormity
My reaction, forlorn
Living nearby among protection
A self induced fantasy
Seemingly overtakes
Crimson delicacies, established
What separates them
Measured, as very little to the eye
Created for a similar purpose
A wild fortress continues to divide
***
At first glance, I let them be
Begin again, walk decisively
Nothing happens without an opening
Allow fate to draw the cause
Turning back
Fuck that, now she’s where she belongs
Your Christmas Poem
Here it is early Christmas morning. I should be in bed, but my baby sister, Leah, asked for a poem. I told her it would end up being terribly sad, and she said “sounds perfect.” My three siblings, no matter how old we get, still feel an incredible urge to be together for Christmas.
The last Christmas memory I have of us, as a nuclear family, is from when I was 12. It isn’t a positive memory, in all honesty. I remember my parents fighting in the only bathroom our house had, but it was one of the farthest rooms from the Christmas tree, so that’s where they went in an effort to shelter us from their crumbling marriage.
My parents needed to be away from the tree, because that’s where the four of us were sleeping. We were in a row with all four heads as far under the tree as possible.
We always decorated a real tree. Dad would load us all up into the pickup and we’d drive out to a small town called Ong. I’m not sure we were allowed to call Ong a town, it was more like a village, but a Christmas tree farm was located close by and we went every year.
This particular year, we walked a while before finding the perfect tree. I had my heart set on the best looking tree. Dad tried to warn me that it was too big for our living room, but I wouldn’t listen. I dug my heals in and insisted we cut the tree down and take it home.
Dad cut the tree down happily. We all helped carry it back to the pickup. Dad was great about choosing his battles with his children. Not much ever stirred him up, if I remember correctly. Calm, cool and relaxed is the best way to describe him. Mom could be described the same way now. Back then I think she looked at his coolness as more of a detriment to the greater good, if ya know what I mean.
My dad once crushed a man’s fist with his bare hand. The reason had something to do with witnessing this man strike his wife with the force of ten men. I suppose we all have limits, but I digress.
Y’all, the tree was enormous. We couldn’t place it in front of the picture window of our house, because of the size. We had to place it into a corner and hope for the best. The tree must have taken up the majority of two walls, but no one cared. We laughed over that tree for hours, maybe even days.
Anyway, this is what runs through my mind while trying to find the right words for a poem.
I thought I’d share a few silly giggles we had while chatting tonight…
Baby and her crew are in Colorado for Christmas. As they were reaching their destination she snaped this picture:
She says we made it…only three individual lights glowing out here in the middle of nowhere and we all have the same last name. Colorado farm country can be a lonely place.
Middle was also traveling for Christmas tonight. Somewhere near the Oklahoma panhandle is her destination. Middle came out of the womb a city girl, but married a country boy, so we often giggle over her adventures. She sent me this update:
“Aud, the last truck ahead of us just turned. We’re officially alone out here and it’s spooky.” (Gorgeous picture, Bean!)
Lastly, Big Brother’s holding his own fort down and doing his part for Santa. Not sure cookies go with his drink of choice, but he’s the oldest and I’m not gonna argue with him, plus someone at his house just got a set of drums…
So yeah, that was our Christmas Eve giggle session. Oh, I did share this photo with them, but know that you may not hold me accountable for finishing it.
Here’s your poem, my loves.
*****
Christmas without you,
Never seems the same,
The food tastes worse,
And usually, ’tis game.
Hunting is frequent,
Among midwestern plains,
So the complaining must quit,
There’s only you to blame.
Of course we’d rather be together,
Sitting inside Big Brother’s barn,
We all know what happened last year,
Not one of us tried looking for a star.
We were all far too busy singing songs,
About whiskey and honky tonk bars,
To remember how often we’re apart,
A new Christmas memory is now ours.
Okay, it’s 2:40 AM….I’m spell checking and that’s all. My siblings got their Christmas wish. Anything that doesn’t make sense we’ll blame on Eggnog. Merry Christmas!!
Pleasing
Rare, pleasing beauty
Among the masses, she beams
For him, anything
In Her Time
Forever
Unlimited time
Emerald in color
Ivory tips
Blossoming
Watch her
Climax
Deliberately
Undeserving
Your effort to espy,
Offered in devotion.
As if creating her,
To be yours,
You choose each breath,
Affectionately.
Describing her worth,
Expressing the beauty,
She fails to presume,
However, you prove,
Consistently,
With inevitable care.
She’ll feel you,
Prepare in coy,
Wearing soft lilac,
Freely.
Her hint of blush,
Amplified for you, always.
Business
I wish you could watch and feel
The contentment, which surrounds
My every breath, listen for the sound
Yeah, it’s like that, Baby
Eyes fluttering, then casted down
And it’ll bring’em to their knees
Y’all, Smile (Haiku)
Cool Texas dawning
Find someone who makes you smile
Calm cerulean
Because Of You
This morning’s transcendent gift
You’ve crawled inside my quiet mind
Honored me with prolific encouragement
And left me to feel like the only woman in the world
Daydreams
Mid afternoon daydreams,
Produce the sweetest gifts,
Today, I found nothing different.
I heard you whisper,
“Gray’s okay…”
So, I’m left wondering,
How do I keep myself,
From running warm fingertips,
Across your flushed cheekbones?
An opportunity to feel,
Where your smile begins,
And a chance to steal a look,
Into your eyes.
I Don’t Need You
Security,
I’m envious,
of the breathing,
you do effortlessly,
right in front of me.
Day in and day out,
I recall,
humming and sweet contentment,
out of you, which I now loathe, completely.
Stop knocking at my door,
taunting me and then,
running away.
It’s Simple
Today,
I need,
Backed against,
A wall,
Told I’m amazing,
And then,
Kissed hard.
When you’ve finished,
Push me back in there,
And remind me,
To fight hard,
For what I believe in.
Simple girl.
Simple instructions.
Simple needs.
If We Were Having Coffee
A huge thank you to Willow for asking me to coffee today. Friday’s haiku about coffee and cookies give her the perfect opportunity to invite me to try her weekly post titled, “If We Were Having Coffee”. I’ve often found her poetry challenging my reality, as she often writes about the tough stuff life can dish out, and I thank her for it. Willow’s lovely photos over coffee express her day to day travels in a charming way, and prove how blessed she truly is to enjoy a full life, so stop by and say HI soon.
The photo that brought us here
I’m not entirely sure how this works, but I believe I hand out coffee and cake, while you listen to me ramble on about my world a bit. You have no idea how much anxiety I have just thinking about talking about myself. We should start with conversing over my anxiety, but this isn’t a therapy session. Well, actually, isn’t coffee with friends sorta like that? I mean, don’t we normally end up offering each other advice over a cup of coffee? Only problem is that I prefer to be the one giving the advice. I pride myself on how well I deflect. Okay, I’m just digging myself a hole here, so let’s get started.
If we were having coffee: I’d have cleaned my kitchen, if this was our first visit together at my place, and I’d have probably made a brown sugar coffee cake with bing cherries. Since we’re friends you have this amazing ability to go on and on about how lovely my chickens are placed about the room, how great the coffee smells and how delicious the cake looks, which is all so stickin’ cute of you. I’ll explain that chickens and pitchers remind me of home, my parents and my great grandmother, Elsie, so I keep them here so I feel a little closer to home.
I’ll turn sixteen shades of red, while sitting through your praises, I’ll try and thank you as quickly as possible and turn the subject to you with a comment like, ” Wait, didn’t you go to the doctor yesterday? Tell me how that went…”
If we were having coffee: I’d offer plenty of creamers, sugars and milk.You’d tell me I was tough for drinking it black and I’d tell you not really. Taking my coffee black is all I know. My grandparents drank, and still do drink, their coffee black, as does my father, so I didn’t see a world with creamer until I was in my twenties. I wanted to be part of the conversations the adults had growing up, so I asked for coffee when it was being offered and took it as it was served. Figuring I was so much like them that I would like the flavor as is, and I do. The red Folgers can was the coffee can I grew up seeing. I love seeing that can of coffee today, even if I’ve moved on to other brands.
If we were having coffee: You’d ask me how my writing was going and I’d brush it off. Sayin’ oh pretty good. You’d have to be the friend to push me through that comment and expect more in return, if you really wanted to know. I know you’re the friend who does want to hear, so I offer a bit more. I’m having some trouble with a few characters and even more of an issue with expressing myself. Explaining also, that I have no time to focus on what I need to get done. Writing becomes a hobby during the school year and I miss it terribly. Boo hoo…
Pretend Audrey Tear
If we were having coffee: I’d show you a few pictures that I took and would like to use, but probably won’t, as the lighting was terrible and the background unforgiving. However, it is such a cool place to visit here in Houston. This is Discovery Green and the sculptor, Jorge Marin, has an exhibit currently gracing our grounds and it truly is exceptional work. Click on his name if you’d like additional information.
If we were having coffee: I’d offer that Dad was doing really well with his chemo treatments. The doctors fixed his allergic reaction to the medicine beforehand, so this month’s appointment went well. He seems to be in good spirits, too. I’m so proud of my dad. My sisters went with him and kept him company for two days during his second round of medicine. I should have been there, too. Only makes sense that I would be, as I’m the oldest daughter. I have loads of guilt about that…I struggle with being so far away from them. I don’t suppose that’ll ever get any easier to deal with, so let’s change the subject.
If we were having coffee: I’d say church was nice this morning. I served through the service, but I don’t mind. I’ll catch the video online later. Some mornings I find fellowship with other woman more important than sitting through service. Our conversations can so easily turn from pleasantries to important life discussions quickly. I’ve become more intuitive through the years and grasp onto those moments when I can. I truly do find such peace in helping women and more than anything offering my ear as a listening tool is where I’m best suited.
If we were having coffee: I’d offer you a ride along today, as I have plans downtown. Here’s hoping today is a better picture taking day.
Houston, Texas
If we were having coffee: I would ask you if you would like another cuppa, or another cake. If we were having Coffee Original idea from http://parttimemonster.wordpress.com/
Perfection
Today’s gift,
Appeared differently,
Unlike what you wished for,
But somehow, perfect.
Restrained
Silent mornings,
Time of day,
When every word I crave,
Which resembles you,
Becomes as cowardly,
As I feel,
Then fades away.
Autumn Springs – Final Verse
Autumn Springs from Summer’s Flame,
Eternal Passage of Season’s Change,
Dance of Passion’s Lingering Game,
Viridian for Copper, Elemental Exchange.
Primordial instincts embrace epic hues,
Fantasy’s Utopia, view Wisps becoming Brides,
Delphian Fairwell Fairies mimic and muse,
Rousing Shadows and Lovers, crimsons collide.
Pageant of Nighttide, Shimmering Bright,
Secrets Whispered in Primeval Tones,
Gathering Luminous, Spectral Light,
Ethereal Queen Born from muttering crone.
Dauntless Coppice, pursuing nature’s virgin Sprite,
Baptized, Nocturnal King of Twilight’s Beasts,
Queen Dowager awaits Autumn’s marital rites,
Mystic humming, via Motley winds due East.
Dance upon the Darling Midnight,
Twirl amidst the Foliage Aflame,
King and Queen Bedecked in Mirth’s Light,
Escaping Summer’s Clasp, Ne’er to be the Same.
Brilliance sparkling over Celestial skies
Approval granted, Russet Harvest’s grace
Verdict trumpeted, Change of Seasons, shall advise
Regal first kiss, as accompanying Timbers embrace
Spectrum’s Flame of Autumnal Dawn,
Seasons Shift, like Willows Bend,
Dancing Tatiana and Bold Oberon,
In Sweetest Union without End.
Fate’s Tale whirls on Heliotrope dreams,
Epic dance, adorning Violaceous Wings,
Crisp winds commence, Folklore sings,
Fantasy lives within Autumn Springs.
*****
This is the final verse, inspired by Morgan’s seventh verse in a week long Autumn, Halloween, seasonal change, Mystical, light and dark collaboration with Morgan, from http://booknvolume.com/ .
I do hope you enjoyed Autumn Springs, my friends. I was honored when Morgan asked me to consider collaborating with her. Morgan’s extremely talented and it has been my privilege to write with her. I’ve grown as a poet and tried a theme I hadn’t considered previously. A huge thank you to Morgan for her patience, as well, as I tried keeping up with her enormous talent. Another bonus was getting to know a remarkable woman, a little bit better, over the last week.
I hope, if you hadn’t been following Morgan’s work, that you have decided to follow her poetry now. Become lost in her world of fantasy. I know I do. Love and many hugs, dear Morgan. You’re the best! Thanks again for for a fantastic week of writing.
*Original Artwork:
Top photo by: Lilla Marton
Bottom photo by: Josephine Wall *
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 