Outrageous power
Creates liquid gold
Pooling
Igniting
His daily surprise
Welcome dawn, Darling
Tag Archives: Love
My Discovery
So, appearing simple,
And fated months before,
I, fearless cragswoman,
Listened to my inner voice.
Knowing when I entered,
Hessie’s Trailhead,
I’d consider life’s possibilities,
Determine my future goals,
Pass through time’s memories.
Not realizing I’d feel your essence,
Beneath a canopy of discovery,
I’ve held back, cowardly,
Yet to fully disclose, findings.
Now, if I don’t take you inside,
I fear, I’ll lose you,
To the calls of regret,
Maybe, to fear.
Too Much To Say
Still Here
Brrr! Baby, It’s Cold Outside
Azure captures dawn
Respite’s freezing finale
I really must go
Find me under the blankets
Whisper the holiday back
Excitement
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.
Morrow
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
Audacious Bliss
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!!
Merry Christmas, My Muse
My Strength
Imaginations
Booted
Your Return
Proof
I counted
You placed me in danger
Thirteen separate times
In two hours
Don’t tell me that you love me
When I know that’s a lie
***
I remember promising you guys that I would post a picture of the doodlings I sketch out, while waiting for words to arrive on paper. An epiphany occurred after I’d drawn this picture, then a poem created from a memory.
The picture is meaningless, well not the thirteen heavily drawn red tallies, it seems, which have permanently indented the next few pages of my tablet, but overall it’s just doodles.
What I’ve realized is that actions DO speak louder than words. Yes, this message has been heard a million times before, I know. Now, the missive is understood. Finally. Lack of protection will never translate into love. Not for me, anyway.
Tomorrow
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.

























