Tall trees; surround me.
Mossy vines, branches connect; a canopy.
Shepherd him; obsessively.
Beams of light, born of the sky.
Blankets of leaves, kept dry.
Chaperoning a character; offering a cloak.
Red, brown and black; colors connect.
I walk; my short story I try to protect; mind a wreck.
Make sure she allows eye contact, it shows trust.
She’ll want to touch you, she ought to lightly brush your chest.
Her hand should want to stop, lingering as she feels your heartbeat.
If it’s her eyes you see, make sure she sees yours, too.
When she stands on her tip toes to kiss you good-night, is she who you want to see?
I’ve been working on another moment in my short story, She Waits With Music. This poem came to me last night.
My Muse
Ask with eyes casted down, will you give?
Reveal my slow hands, do you receive?
Feel every heart beat, can you handle it?
Fall as any woman would, do you accept?
Lost in your eyes, as blue as the sky.
A classic story; I’ll be yours, you’ll be mine.
Minds crescendoing; another night’s dream.
Just so we’re clear, I’m cool. I’m very, very, very cool! Happy Friday!
Tomorrow
In an effort to trust you, I’ll believe in you.
Without hesitation I make plans with you in mind.
My heart follows even though I’ve been hurt by you.
I desire the wisdom you hold even when it lacks my truest needs.
I’m stronger as today ends, I know you’re waiting for me.
I take time to thank God for designing you to teach me.
I lay in quiet sheets, my mind composing your sunrise, as I drift off to sleep.
I’m unsure of what you’ll look like, but I’ll dream of you.
Tomorrow, your truths already run deep within me.
In The End…
my fault for trusting you
my fault for searching out your heart
my fault for believing it was really you
my fault for imagining a fairy tale
my fault for needing you
my fault for building your pedestal
my fault for dreaming of a life
my fault for allowing myself…
Oscar
Obsessively orthodox, you never stray.
Super savorer, you’ve never met a food you didn’t love.
Cutest canine, your smooshed face sealed the deal years ago.
Apologetic ally, you’ll be forgiven in minutes with those sad eyebrows.
Royal reverence, you’d wag your tail and follow me anywhere, if only I’d ask.
The notes allow,
a feeling of familiarity.
It’s the words I crave,
creativity inspires the muse.
The length of the weekend, I loathe.
Well I’ve gone and done it again, folks. I’ve put myself right smack dab in the middle of poetry writing pandemonium. I went forward with a decision I now see was made in haste, yet I feel compelled to let it ride at this point.
In a weak moment the other night I decided to go for it. I became part of a critique group. I’ll be sharing my poetry, some so raw you won’t see it here, but I feel a need for feedback. (Let me know if you’re interested.)
Well well well, feeling brave are we? You could say that or you could chalk it up to seriously bad judgement. I fear it’s a bit premature.
Can I be perfectly honest? This stuff is fighting to come out.
If you’re feeling the urge to make a run for it, I would. I’d do it now. Things could get a little scary around here for a while. There will still be a lot of other writing going on, but I’ve given you fair warning that there may be more poetry. Mostly, because I can’t make it stop.
I’ve packed a bag. It consists of:
* Tissues
*CDs of 80’s Big Hair Bands (Mostly because I can’t get past the guitars, I play a mean air guitar. Guilty.)
*ZZ Top’s Rough Boy on CD ~ constant replay (guitars…)
*My Bible (any guitars in there?)
*Books (to share which ones may reveal more than you care to know)
*LOTS of Emotion (I’ve got voices who’ve been cooped up inside of me for a long time. I think they’ve taken over and agreed to this nonsense, now that I have time to reflect.)
*A Lack of Better Judgement
*Honesty
*Truth
~ Of You
Forces of the unknown, I keep you close;
Feel the push and pull, it’s all self-inflicted.
I read then reread words, admiring your clarity.
Speaking clever exchanges, my mind blissfully addicted,
This fresh interest continues, yet anonymity.
I pursue musing thoughts, here, here and here;
An affinity of the best kind, creatively defined.
*Let me try and explain what I tried to do. If you read from the left and to the comma, then from the left again to the comma and on down, it’s an anticipated daily process. Then if you read from the comma and over, then the comma and over again, and on down its…well, it is what it is. Finally, together, for me, it makes it whole.
Bass guitar (Photo credit: FredArt)
The notes I don’t understand
The deep ones keep me invested
A string or two makes me smile
The quickening speeds my heart
Your tune spins my mind
What is created stirs my soul
The Frio River spoke to me every morning as I stepped outside. It encouraged me to sit and reflect on its beauty as it lent an old tree root for a stool.
I waited for a lesson.
Later, the river taunted me for a walk. While it seemed I was learning how to choose each step slowly, reality told me, Frio was teaching me how to get back up, as I fell time and time again.
I screamed at Frio. I grabbed a tube to float on, giving Frio the control, why did Frio have to be so difficult?
Once again, Frio spoke to me letting me know I hadn’t mastered walking yet, so again I found myself learning how to get back up after walking it’s stoney and abusive path.
Frio witnessed my laughter as it flowed faster and then quieted through my tears, as I fought with its existence. We left not friends exactly, but we’ll try again.
Oldest Daughter-
Redheaded Sister
~Thank You, for indulging me this week. I enjoyed our walk down memory lane. I hope you laughed, possibly learned a little something about me too.~
“The Theme you play at the start of a number is the territory,
and what comes after, which may have very little to do with it,
is the Adventure!” – Ornette Coleman
She Waits With Music
by: Audrey Dawn
Patrons walked by her. They paused to take a look, but then chose to move on, often times with a glance back, as if wondering whether she’d be okay. Yes, it was late and she’d been there awhile listening to the light leftover sounds of the imaginative and free style jazz music coming from Basie’s place. A woman isn’t normally out by herself on a street full of dark alleys; short streets filled with dirty puddles which contain the smells rejected by most. She couldn’t allow herself to go inside the bar.
What if she missed him walking by that corner over there or there. Her eyes drifted side to side. She’d decided that the open air, coupled with waiting close by, would allow her to see each visitor who enjoyed this part of town. This time of night. Ambrosia knew she shouldn’t wait outside alone, yet she’d told herself she’d engage in the hopes of finding him. Continue reading
Heading into a bit of ridiculousness. Beware!
C – Contains all I need to focus this morning.
O – Often the one I lean on in situations where my hands need a break from persevering.
F – Friends join in, comment on my work and sit while, as I consider their point of view.
F – Familiar fumes of Columbian beans fill my space then proceed to remind me of Dad, too.
E – Entertained at my options: cold or hot, as long as it’s mocha I’ll have a drop.
E – Each time I pour a cup I’m relieved we established early. I know you and you know me.
Familiarity…
I miss my sisters.
I need them today.
A feeling only sisters should witness, has come to stay.
The words I shutter, please find me, I pray.
You can lay your head on my shoulder.
The only act I need, please come and sit with me.
I want you to twirl my red curls around your finger.
As you lay your leg across my knee.
I wanna be near you and wait for my heart to relax.
It’s been through all shapes and sizes for far too long.
Living away still confuses me, am I on the right track?
My heart wonders around looking for truth.
Up and down it goes as my mind searches for you.
Which way to turn for safety, I cannot rightly say
Without your voice I am lost today.
I desire the words that ring honestly true,
“Oh Auddie…we need you.”
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 