Traditional Joys
Her Random Epiphany
Cinnamon Sugar
Giggles for the day. My daughter wrote me this morning after my Happy St. Patrick’s Day note to she and her brother.
“Momma, you have cinnamon and sugar hair. That’s the best combo.”
Happy Belated 51st Birthday to me! (Grays and all)
While on my own, I rediscovered
pieces of who I am.
My heart leapt,
my soul weakened in reverence,
towards a pursuit, I’d maybe forgotten,
or possibly, extinguished
even discarded because I was different.
Small moments,
where,
I proved to be –
a someone. Found,
amongst many.
I saw you, too.
– Learning –
a collection of photos and poems.
There will come a day,
When I can look upon,
Their relationship,
And say, in my experience.
Until then, I will continue,
To watch in awe,
As they deem one another,
Poetically united: a lifeline.
I may not wholeheartedly agree with this man’s first two sentences or the last thought on this subject, but the meat in the middle is the woman I continue to see when I look in the mirror. The only woman I’ve ever wanted to be…
I’m sorry I’ve been quiet as of late. There hasn’t been much room in my head for poetry.
I’ve missed y’all so much.
~Aud
blessed with knowing
gifted with understanding
cursed with yearning
life of a poet
I’ve noticed your attempt at
Subtle vocabulary,
To encourage
Without
Allowing me to fall.
You’re too late,
This has always been
What I do best.
I read of poets past
with infinite belief
moments come upon us,
often urging we repeat:
Confusion
Regrets
Joys
Happenings,
lessons learned from life,
retold by she, him and them,
possibly, even me.
Asked to compose again,
so that maybe this time
experience will prove, we feel.
If,
probably,
what occurs,
this time,
just isn’t chance
but a path, prepared,
for us.
If I closed my eyes and saw simple perfection,
there would be a you.
Words sought by princess’, over hills around mountains, were written
and shared by you.
Dreams play out in forms of melodies I’ve never heard,
but belong to you.
Pools of tears welling up
and lying fearless in my eyelids
await you.
Happily ever after didn’t exist
in plain surroundings,
until the belief of you.
Now I seek every moment,
listening humbly,
for a you.
Holistic Wayfarer made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, so I wrote a guest post a few weeks ago. I’m thrilled to see my memorable story on her blog tonight. Honored and better for the journey…
We were a family before that Autumn arrived, and I possessed an innocence I find myself briefly memorializing. Turning right off the curving highway of the farming community I once called home places me on Hickory Street and the breeze through the window, smelling of Nebraska dirt, welcomes me back. I was 11 that year.
“Too hot to work, Chris,” I declare, getting comfortable on the grassy fringe of my pebbly street.
The afternoon sun, halting the progress of a finished tree house, creates sparkling stones that slide through my fingers and into the pockets of my shorts. Too many treasures to leave behind or live without, as dirt patterns on my hands become spiraling rivers and the first letter of a loved one’s name.
Then an incline, along the north side of Hickory, runs next to my house. Children find respite from the feverish tunnel-building on the hill of…
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the purpose of future,
dear one, shall always be
the promise of offering
individuality.
reveal yourself, hear my revenant whisper
there will be no one else
quite like you, accept
life’s spirited blessing.
A magical splendor happens here
Among the winds of wild
Emotions felt, across my skin
As I remember his smile
And how it fits, perfect
Upon my heart
Strong, brave and controlled
Paying no mind to the breeze
Or how hard it blows
My mind, what will I do?
He’s all I think about,
And nothing I had planned.
He’s water glossing over my skin,
And the comfort of the wind.
The smell of summer,
Yet, cool mountain air.
Allow him my heart,
I sigh, do I even dare?
He’s the sound of bullfrogs,
Late at night, while I dream.
Perfect words and lovely pitch,
And he whispers just for me.
He always turned the lights on early,
Even before the sun went down,
Hoping she’d be thirsty,
And show up, in his part of town.
Gazing at stars, she made it look easy,
Stealing them one by one, for him.
He, never witnessing a star in the sky,
Was destined to look, in her eyes for them.
Wrapped
Protectively
Because it feels nice
Against you
Lambency of dawn
Expressed inspiration
Desire surrounds
His for the taking
Peaceful submission
Waking to profound
as dusk departs and night arrives,
i’m caught up in a mythological moment,
aphrodite falls for apollo, right before my eyes.
indescribable, I know I’d only blow it,
so I sit back with a defeated laugh.
left wondering, where might I find myself a poet,
who could write of a sunset like that?
Sip of honeysuckle
Let it linger
Upon your tongue
Nature’s nourishment
Feast on her
Mmm, as sweet as they come
Seductive in sunshine
Succumbs: no longer hinders
What’s been his all along
Twilight spans this Texas sky
Imagine love in cursive
Hopeful, while I persuade tonight
Accept this wistful missive
Darling, see yourself inside my eyes
One of my favorite guys, Mr. Mark Bialczak of What Will I Write About Next, used the sneak approach to get me to accept the Liebster Award he offered out a few weeks ago. How’d he do it? He asked the right questions.
I admit to being caught off guard by Mark’s nod in my direction, but I have no good explanation as to why. You see, we talk weekly via our blog posts and quite rightly enjoy each other’s company, so it shouldn’t have been such a shock. How did we meet? I can’t remember, but we bonded a year ago over nicknames. He likes using them and so do I.
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 