I am the girl
who holds every word
received
in her hands.
Searches each paragraph
with hope,
of finding a piece
adoration for me.
Innocence
Tag Archives: Poetry
Your Power
When days drag, here in the office alone and the optimism is low,
There’s this; your quick video of the open road.
My smile begins across the eyes, a sparkle creates a giggle, my mind senses your truth.
I’m not there but I feel the energy you often exude.
A tractor trailer rolls on down the road, spit causes the shine, and your power is felt by everyone as you drive along by.
Yet, Little Deuce Coupe, is the tune you’re singing, tapping your cowboy boot against the pedal: a musical pair unlike any other.
And I grin, because I’m proud of you, who you are, and wish I was riding along, Big Brother.
Nebraska’s Emerging Writers – An Anthology
Two years ago I was approached by a publishing company and asked if I would be interested in submitting a short story for an anthology being created by Z Publishing House.
I submitted a story I had shared many years ago and it was accepted.
The head space I was in at the time didn’t allow for traditional excitement over the process, nor did it increase my personal productivity for having been asked.
When the anthology shipped to my house, instead of authentic joy over my name being included with other writers, I chose to pretend the publishing didn’t happen and hid my face.
I didn’t and don’t receive compensation for having been included, however, this process started something else entirely.
Soon, friends, very soon. ♡
Hope is Still There
my emotions, ever present;
continue,
some linger creating a smile
others invite weakness,
which in time fades, as I press
further into the day.
the hope is still there, the daydreaming;
visions of what could be, dancing before me.
Although out of reach,
there’s knowledge love belongs to many,
and I’m grateful to have witnessed.
Treasure
treasures kept sheltered
harbored closely within
delicate layers possibly
sought after, one day
keenly aware, yet
hesitant to believe in
their existence,
he’ll seek
may she be found adequate,
even desirable,
arguably – his purpose,
one day
Passion
The author wrote as if she had met the one I crave, finding him perfectly secure, genuine and honest before her.
She noticed the same details as I, and it shatters me to realize someone sees in him what I do and she may have the chance at a forever.
Which means I’m expendable, just one in hundreds of options.
Ha! Not that I ever stood a chance, I knew the minute we met he’d never settle for less than perfection.
He wouldn’t need to, because he was capable on his own and I added nothing he craved.
In Her Nature
*cardinal calling “here, here”
*cardinal calling “here, here”
Me: I hear you.
*cardinal calling “here, here”
*cardinal calling “here, here”
Me: Where are you?
*standing outside looking up about to get into the car*
*cardinal calling “here, here”
*cardinal calling “here, here”
Me: There you are up in my tree!
*two cardinals fly away happily*
Me: I see you! *calling out in a squeal*
My Young Redhead: *exasperated, yet looking*
Momma, they aren’t five year olds!?!
Me: *sighs* I sounded like Snow White, didn’t I?
My Young Redhead: *giggles*
No, just you being you, Momma
Me: *smiles* Not so bad, is it?
…and our eyes continued to shine.
The Beholder
Driving the farthest eastern reaches of the Sandhills as this scene beckoned. Was it the water, sunset or hills calling names? The topography, a sensuous mastermind, plays within thoughts while memories flood the present.
How dare it.
Just as beauty sets in, and atop the already gorgeous scene, to share this – would have been the only cherished wish left to whisper. A hand held. Hard kiss, even tug of the hair and a reminding of the natural, even recommended design for an alliance.
Useless comes to mind, but doesn’t it always? Untrustworthy. Less than. Nothing deemed attractive found near not even near, by not just one, but from many.
Wicked is fate as she tosses over another just out of reach, if only the physical qualities found irresistible and encouraged were obtainable by another’s remnants. Would life continue to offer beauty with hopes someone might see?
Sprucing Up The Place
deteriorating wall
color combinations weak
periscope, maybe
***
A few housecleaning details for y’all today. I am aware it is Friday, and nobody likes cleaning on the edge of a weekend, but I needed to say thanks for all the recent follows. AND thank you for not giving up on my poetry.
The giggles are returning which is always a good sign. I’ve been writing a lot, but mostly I’ve been working. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. This past year has been incredibly busy with churches closed for many.
When the inevitable occurred it made my day job 100% harder.
I have become quite familiar with bells, whistles, bright lights, more technology, post offices, zoom, louder microphones and standing on my head. I’ve never been accused of having a case of “the look at me’s” so you can imagine what having to do so did for my soul.
My creativity took a beating as did all my relationships.
I’ll be sprucing up the place and working on updating my pages, as I focus on getting things ready for an announcement many have waited years to hear.
Find beauty in your weekend my loves,
Aud
Mellow Flora
bits of sparkle,
the color of mellow,
wild: her mortal teaser.
bouquet of modesty,
prairie grass her fringe,
yet, a classic beauty.
Caught
Encapsulated
Winter’s perfect protector
Autumn was weeping
Felted Armor
delicate felted petals
her armor, really.
bravery: to go it alone,
not what she had envisioned,
but it is, so she’s trying.
some say, “she made it.”
local soil, a lovely bed, complete transparency.
spreading light for those seeking,
while awaiting destiny, is
all that’s left.
Plea of Surmount
thunder sounds like the past
why do I listen?
deep moans of the rumble
cause an aching below, one
I no longer yearn for,
but I do. Passion find me
determined, my plea.
Loved
Daughters are loved
Birthdays never go backwards
Year Forty-seven
Contagious
contagious; the hum created
faster rubber, faster
goosebumps
sideways smile, slight dimple
upon me
the possibilities await
and the doves coo’d this morning
Raw Efflorescence
peruse, but take care;
vulnerable: only the prelude to what is needed when describing her.
sensuous verdure, yet saffron is shy’s color in nature.
Autumn breezes by
she feels him upon her skin
and she yearns for more, His protection everything.
Our Story Is Over
Not a simple fix is it?
Lost somewhere between,
I’ll figure this out,
And just let it be.
Frustration
Manipulation
Disgust
This and it, being you,
Or us, and what didn’t work,
Even after trying.
Lies
Making up
Continually
Long gone are the days,
Of make believe,
Playing house,
And happily ever after.
Adulthood
Responsibilities
Teamwork
Following behind answers,
I couldn’t seem to catch,
But knew wouldn’t solve us anyway.
Relief
Understanding
Forgiveness
Today became the end,
Our story is over
And I’m free to begin again.
Life
ebbs and flows; comes and goes
the reality of the daily,
creates opportunity
sharing this life with another
is meant to be.
… a fog.
A mysterious morning can draw the eye towards yesterday.
A breath seen, taken and then released is found comforting for many.
Artic winds blow chasing shadows as trees create a sound which can frighten others.
Familiarize the steps needed to live for today. Presence captures the beauty of the wait.
