Like Driving Out of Control

All I want is you,
To make you proud
When all I can do
Is be me, when is
Enough good enough?
My steering wheel has
Too much bulk, my fingertips
Are cold, hold on, while
My heart drives out
Of control.
These shoes today, a horrible
Choice. Sure, watch me limp
Across the street,
Ha, still me wishful
Thinking, longing.
Curly hair, blown by
Monday’s fluttering wind
Let it be, messy again.
My mind spins against time
And all I hear is patience,
I’m fighting my
Inner child

On Her Own


her flourish,
pink, shy blossoms,
all on her own.
an open view,
on a front row seat,
through slats of a fence.
longing to touch,
a position at her attempt,
yet, you’ve refrained.
seeing her beauty unfold,
with the rhythm of yours,
this morning.
for I see the hesitation,
feel the need,
and witness the control,
you have within yourself,
to let her approach,
eventually a fragrance will,
settle upon your face,
and you will breathe again,
as the sigh of her submission,
honors you.



Reaching out onto a trail way,
Quietly, she blooms,
Bashful, as always,
Appearing, however, for you.

Rain settling in again today.

Visioning you here, always,
Wandering about her scent,
She carries your tender touch,
As she delicately sways.

Your offer, lingering upon her branch.

Desiring her simple colored hue,
Nature’s best effort shown,
And your sweet yellow delight,
Will she continue here, proving growth?

Or shy away, afraid of the light.

Calm Twilight


Poetic thoughts shatter,
Like glass across a sky of azure.
You arrive on bits of final sunshine,
My mysterious muse.
You capture my presence tonight,
And I feel you inside my wistful soul,
As you voluntarily watch me,
Waiting in the calm twilight.

The final line written by, my girl, Morgan. It is no secret that I adore her poetry, so last week when she wrote the line “waiting in the calm twilight” I mentioned being envious, and then there was some banter and a challenge. I’m following through with using her perfect line in my poem tonight, but mine will pale in comparison once you’ve read her Friday Fantasy poem from last week. You’ll see… ♡ Thanks for letting me borrow your words, Morgan.

Only You To Say

I haven’t the words
I’ve beg them to come
Rush over me
With true abandon
Nights full of craving
Days full of behaving
I plea
There is no describing
What your kiss does to me
Body alive
I come to you complete
Take me
Somewhere far away
Life less confusing
My heartbeat needs to flee
I can taste your need
It fulfills this queen
I can’t take much more
The decision making all yours
Will I survive the day
My love
Tis only you to say
Preparing already
Digging my own grave

She Waits With Music

“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

Call To The Post; But, Oh Look, a Squirrel

It’s finally quiet and I can write in peace for the Daily Prompt: A Bend in Time.

The hum of the television is on in the background. Thankfully, it’s just the right amount of noise to persuade me to tune out the world and gather my thoughts.

I hear Robin William’s voice in the air as the house catches his premier episode.

Side Note:

Is he still funny? I’m torn. There are moments, while listening to his voice, that remind me of the days when he was spot on in his delivery. Now, I’m thinking it’s mostly forced and I’m not really into it.

Okay, bye.

Thanks for trying. (as the door slams OR the mouse clicks the X) Sorry, Robin. RV is still a family favorite.

For those of you who can’t agree with me, but can’t count my opinion out either, I thank you. Thank you for allowing me a little more time to convince you to continue reading.

I promise there must be something in this rambling brain of mine that wants to be heard. I know this because it’s been a few days since my fingers felt like race horses. Yeah, lately I’ve been housing ten little race horses that love to get out and run.

Literally, since this afternoon, I’ve sat down at the computer atleast six times. I’ve giggled at a lot I came across on WordPress, enjoyed some very thoughtful posts or pictures, and sat in awe while listening to a particularly smart story.

Anyway, I’d sit here at my desk and allow my fingers to start rubbing the keys. Then they’d bounce with the featheriest of clicks. I hadn’t actually given the green light to allow enough pressure to make the letters appear on the screen, but I could feel it coming. Can you picture it? My fingers just lightly diddling along waiting to be told it was time.

My ears waiting for the, Ding!

Do you have that visual of the little black horse, too?

You know the one. He’s the horse a few of us love to bet on when we’re attending the Kentucky Derby for the first time.

Or maybe that was just me.

Horse racing event

Horse racing event (Photo credit: tpower1978)

He’s the long shot horse that seems to shine as bright as the sun, he has muscles that twitch with excitement as he hears the familiar crowd around him. He’s the animal no one will see coming or sadly he’d been counted out long before race day. Quietly, he’s proven that he’s up for the challenge and worthy of attention.

He’s ready to do his job, he’s ready to race.

I can actually see him trying to climb over the gate. That little swinging door, which is the only piece of material that holds him back from running, from charging forward, with all his might, eagerly approaching the goal they, the horse and his people, had been working towards. The gate holds him back, he snarls with frustration and something narley comes out of his nostrils after hearing, from behind him, that he’ll need to wait a bit longer….

Yeah, that was me. Each time I sat down to write my thoughts something else came up and I’d have to wait.

All of it was valuable, I don’t want to complain in the least, but truthfully they were all distractions. Work, my husband, children, friends, creative blog posts, jaw dropping videos spewing creativity filled with arrangements which further my interests, they all got in the way, yet I welcomed them.

Great distractions, I can’t stress that enough.

Nevertheless, when Friday gets here I’m just itching to get to the screen for some extra uninterrupted writing. Possibly, some coffee shop journaling should be done and mostly a lot of expected research about how I could/would/should improve my abilities is required.

Now that’s a list in itself, so I try not to get too worked up about how far behind I am or when waiting is the only option. Heaven help me if speculations find their way into my thoughts. Thoughts of how elementary my musings seemingly are compared to other seasoned writers.

We all go there once and a while and just thinking about some of it makes my skin crawl. I have to fight off my feelings of throwing in the towel.

I mean, seriously!

Okay, one more Side Note: (pause for my, the crazy lady’s, rant)

How is it that I’ve known this woman for, Oh, I don’t know… how long???… and I’m just NOW learning that she’s an inspiring local writer and someone I could have been talking to all along! Okay, I’m seriously crawling out of my skin about this discovery.

Honestly, we all know from past posts, I’d never actually talk reasonably or rationally about my dreams with her, but wow, I’m stunned, silenced and, actually, I have a bit of a crush on her now. She’s doing what I want to do and she does it effortlessly well.

See this is the reason why she’s multi-talented and I’m just here trying to find someone who wants to read this post. It all really just makes so much more sense now. She walks around in our circle of friends just radiating loveliness, peace, grace and normalcy, which is why I always react to her fondly. However, I should have also listened to myself when I wondered about what she did for a living, all the while blocking it out, because the right thing to do was to wait for her to mention it.

Anyway….blah blah blah…she’s the real deal. Love her.

I’m a hot mess. I can’t even find time to edit work a bit more thought-provoking for you tonight.

Y’all are stuck with this mess. Thanks for seeing this post through til the end. Now I just wanna go back to reading about someone else’s awesomeness.

My ten race horses apparently only needed to prance around a bit and then requested we head back to the stables for bed.

Tomorrow’s breakfast is rumored to be fit for Champions. So, there’s hope yet my friends.