Before dawn

I’m pedaling

slowly

It’s a down time

face up floating

a sea of heart’s desire

directed,

as night caresses

and dreams open like books

dissolving their meaning

no longer rigid

 rising to the surface

for light and air

~

“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

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“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

Now deep in the hum of an extended writing project, I miss the relationship with my WordPress community. I wondered if I could keep up both directions in expression….the immediacy of day by day reflections and the task of organizing a larger body of work into a cohesive whole.

Still opening to deeper insight in the stillness of the night, nowadays after hours of the chaos of creative effort, I’ve decided to re-post some of the earlier poems, unedited. For me they are like talking with an old friend….calming, encouraging. Where am I today with these thoughts? Do they surface now with new meaning? I treasure the comments made and the friendships that have been nurtured with these seeds that were sown in this fertile ground.

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The deep

~

small rusted tacks                                                      medium_133146861

holding my toughened skin

to bone

to muscle

like pictures cut from a magazine

pinned to the wall

~

I’ve given up looking for saviors,

no messengers with bright news.

~

I see only inside

this heart

cocooned

deep

in the warm darkness

listening to the words spun

from the silk of the stories

we’ve given wings.

“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/striatic/133146861/”>striatic</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

Footprint…

 

naked

impressed

open to skies

deep in the left heel

tender

I don’t need to follow you

I can see where you’ve been

in the waves

with their tongues of silver

”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””’

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””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””’

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/elliotmoore/45457311/”>Elliot Moore</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

Seeing you is seeing me

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Twice a month I  meet for a few hours with four other women. Our friendship has a history as neighbors, fellow artists, some mothers, a few grandmothers, some wives, some ex-wives…it’s a toss up but we share artistic enthusiasms. Our lives are busy and we may not see each other as often as we’d like in any of these roles. But every other week we make time in our schedules to get together. We’ve all said that this time spent together is essential to each of us.  For these particular meetings we’ve come to listen deeply to each other. Continue reading