Wishing

Wishing I could give you pathways lost.

Directions back to change that day.

Guide you back to lines uncrossed.

Wishing she had never lost her way.

Wishing I could ease how you are feeling…

Or know how to soothe your soul.

Wishing broken hearts begin healing.

Some things are just out of our control.

Wishing you many more sunsets to pursue.

Wishing new beginnings shines its brilliance;

Strength and enchantment within you.

Wishing you find the path to peace and resilience.

That is what she would want you to do. 

This Christmas was difficult for our family. Our love for each other

helped us get through it. This is for my daughter and son-in-law. I love them so much.

For The Sunday Muse

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

Hallelujah!

The boy draws the bow across the strings —

He plays “What Child Is This?”

The whole forest comes alive and sings!

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

The boy rejoices as he plays for the lord —

“O Holy Night” with a bow in hand.

The heavens hear the lovely chords.

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

“O Come, All Ye Faithful” rebounds off the trees —

Brings the smallest of creatures there — And then

“Joy to The World” was carried with the breeze.

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
Photo: Source

Merry Christmas

I wish you more smiles than presents with bows.

Many encounters underneath mistletoes.

I wish for your muse to provide inspiration…

In the new year with cheer and celebration.

I wish you a sleigh full of highs and no lows!

Hoping everyone has a wonderful holiday and Happy New Year!

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Morning Sky

Very early prior to car wheels turning

and horns honking in the streets.

Before lines form for morning coffee

and sidewalks overflow with people

rushing to shops, schools, and offices.

A sliver of light shines through a window

On the top floor of an old high – rise.

Behind the sheer ivory drapes

Drowsy child eyes peer through the opening

At the lovely pale pink morning sky

Washing light on the outside walls

And the mirror image beside it.

Reflecting the structures many rows

Of various size and shape windows.

Vacant windows — dark as night.

Unoccupied illuminated windows.

A pastel watercolor morning sky

Painted a lovely memory in a little mind.

—Before the swift departure.

Linking with The Sunday Muse

and Poet's United.

Photo: Source

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

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Unexpected Music

A mother always knows.

I worried my child wouldn’t be accepted.

I loved him but shamefully I worried...

The family wouldn’t be accepted.

I had seen this story before.

It had played out when I was a child.

My mother loved but shamefully worried...

About my brother’s life.

Back then the times were different.

I guess today acceptance is improving.

But it is hard to talk to your child about…

Being true to who they are — coming out.

A mother always worries about...

what might happen to their children.

About ten years have passed since,

I heard the words from our son’s father.

Spoken from the lips of a man raised in a devout Christian family.

“Don’t worry… you can’t change a person’s heart

and you know we’ll love him no matter what.”

Unexpected music to my ears! Our son continues to be…

Unexpected music to our ears!

Through a conversation with my son near his high school graduation,

I hauled him from the closet, so he’d know he had our support to live the life he chooses.

Smiles… I can be persistent. I haven’t seen this movie, I want to see it.

 Our son is the one on the left, the one on the right will be our son soon.

 

 http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/

In the Dream

Wake, dream, learn. Do not be attached to anything.

Love and speak kind words. Eat, drink, sleep – repeat.

There is plenty of time.

Until there is not.

Linking with The Sunday Muse

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

Photo: source

She's Still Okay

Lying on the bedroom floor in her vinyl lounge.

Flipping through magazines, grooving to the sounds.

She puts on her swimsuit. Everyone would leave soon…

For the crowded pool.

She didn’t know she’d receive a memory so intense that day.

One that’s never faded.

She saw her young life flash starting with a newborn’s tears.

More flashes, then it abruptly stopped.

She was being pulled by her brother to the shallow end.

Where all the moms were.

“Man, you’re in trouble,” He said.

She was just glad to be alive.

Years later she realized she witnessed her own birth.

In those weird flashes.

Wishing she had asked him...

How he saw her drowning in the crowded pool.

And, wishing she had thanked him — while he was still alive.

She jumped into the deep end not knowing how to swim.

Thinking she’d jump in and grab the side of the pool.

Thinking she’d be okay, but it was so crowded.

She has no regrets jumping in over her head that day.

She’s dived into life ever since. Life is crowded. — She’s still okay.

Photo: Unsplash

Enchanting Deity Chione

Enchanting deity Chione — daughter of Boreas.

Please surprise us with a lovely snow storm.

Cover our forest pines with fluffy white frosting.

Surprise the children with enough snow to form…

Decent size snowballs to throw through the air.

They’d love running around with rosy pink cheeks.

Dear Chione — I wouldn’t be surprised at all,

If they built snow castles with tall towering peaks.

We play in the sand here most of the year.

Even though it’s December, it can be quite warm.

Ask daddy Boreas to blow cold winds our way.

Surprise us with a beautiful winter snow storm.

Ask mother Oreithyia to surprise us with frosty ice.

Enchanting deity Chione — send the flurries from the skies.

We want to wear our Christmas boots and coats,

Outside in the cold frosty white surprise.

Photo: Unsplash

Linking with Poets United Midweek Motif: Surprise

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The Title of Seduction

He was born royal, noble, to be a distinguished ruler.

She was born feisty, cunning, from a world a little crueler.

He stands beside her tall, strong, and arrogantly imposing.

She stands beside him knowing he’ll never be proposing.

She shamelessly distracts him frequently with her desire.

He often shamelessly removes her arousing fiery attire.

She knows she’ll never be more than a beautiful domestic.

He knows underneath her frock her loveliness is majestic.

He knows a prearranged marriage to a noble lass nears.

She dreads the looming union but refuses to shed tears.

He’s heartbroken she’s not of proper lineage royalty.

She’s heartbroken he can’t abandon his lineage loyalty.

He dreads placing a ring of silver on another’s finger.

She dreads the precious metal but knows his love will linger.

He’ll be honored the title of the king at his altar introduction.

She’ll not be queen but honored with the title of seduction.

I've been watching "The Last Kingdom", I guess I have it on the brain. :-)  

Photo Credit: The Art of Seduction by Catrin Welz-Stein

Linking with Poet's United

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Linking with The Sunday Muse

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Red Rose

We’re both planted firmly in the earth.

On shaky ground -- in doubt.

We’re both upset at times.

Not knowing what we’re mad about.

However, we don’t belong here.

We both understand...

We must find our fragrant red rose.

And leave this barren land.

Linking with The Sunday Muse

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

Photo: Source 

My Poetic Season

Over the years I have learned to be strong.

My children— Like birds could nest on my branches.

I’d listen… lessen their burdens from life going wrong.

Several months ago, my branches felt bare.

More like a young sapling in need of support.

I found strength for others hard… while in despair.

A dear friend helped me escape to the poetry world.

The more I read and wrote the less I felt broken.

We became closer… because of our grief for a girl.

One poem at a time my strength is returning.

Praying— I’ll stay deep in the genre of poetry.

Forever keeping my heart and mind churning.

I pray… one day I’ll find someone in need,

Wanting to express their feelings some way.

And, like my friend… plant the poetic seed.

This year we’ll have the tree, gifts, and feasts.

However, this year is just my poetic season.

Thank you, my friend… It’s helped me have peace.

For my dear friend, Carrie. Thank you for being there for me, Carrie.

For Poets United: Susan’s Midweek Motif. “Prayer”

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

Photo: Unsplash

Silver-Grey Memories

The latter part of life is sometimes filled…

With angelic winter white daydreams.

Quickly fading into silver-grey memories.

We ponder our life.

Let our minds wander.

—Through the past.

The latter part of life allows us leisure pleasures... Leisure time.

Remembering silver-grey treasures, we hold in our heart.

For the Sunday Muse

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/ 

Untouchable

As untouchable as the bluest sky.

As far away as the stars at night.

But, I sense you with the flutter of a butterfly…

Flying by me in the morning light.

As untouchable as the moon glistening...

On the stillness of a tranquil lake.

But, I hear you when I’m listening…

To the subtle sounds when I’m awake.

As untouchable as the suns bright glare…

Warming the beaches golden sand.

But, I feel you beside me there,

As the sand trickles from my hand.

Untouchable for my remaining existence…

Until our hearts meet again one day.

I know you will be waiting there in the distance.

Untouchable… but helping me find my way.

Photo: Unsplash

Tiny Bird

Pounding the sidewalk to do my shopping,

Today in the cold drizzling rain and on my phone.

I hardly noticed a tiny bird on the sidewalk,

Frantically looking around scared and alone.

I popped into the store for a couple of things.

I came out expecting him to be long gone.

My eyes scanned the shopping center,

For a shrub, tree, or the tiniest strip of lawn.

I scooped him up in my cradled hands,

Loving how soft and fragile he was to the touch.

I prayed he wouldn’t try to fly and fall with his

Hurt wing, but he didn’t flap his wings very much.

I carried him around the corner where I noticed,

Several large potted plants outside a sandwich shop.

Laying him in the dirt amongst green plants he seemed content.

And my heart was filled with joy for having made that stop.

My birthday wish is for the tiny bird to heal and fly.

—Soaring high into the clear blue skies.

This happened on my birthday today. I’ve never held a bird,

what a wonderful present. Linking with The Sunday Muse.

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

I am a native Houstonian.

Home after two weeks of exploring

my own State.

I thought my state’s rough terrain

was navigating in and out of traffic,

climbing highway overpasses.

Linking with Real toads for Marian's  Fussy Little Forms:  Cherita

http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/

The Grand Dame of Vampire Valley

The grand dame of Vampire Valley.

1313 Bleeding Lane, Eerie, Maine.

Date Listed: October 13, 2013.

Status| Screaming for a buyer to drive insane.

Thirteen hauntingly beautiful rooms to be,

reminiscently restored to their former glory.

Full disclosure… there were thirteen bodies,

exhumed from the walls. — Spirits will tell you their gory story.

Listed on the haunted historical registry.

Spooky showings by appointment only.

Call: 800- ghostly (800-446-7859)

Summoning all to call… please hurry the spirits are so lonely.

This is a drop-dead grisly fixer-upper.

Circa 1813; Contact Youngblood Real Estate.

Listing Agent: Hannah Horror.

Call now… the walls are waiting for a bloodcurdling update.

Linking with The Sunday Muse

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

Photo: Source

Harlequin Headaches

Breaking in this biz sure isn’t easy.

All the mystery of magic has been...

—Well, there’s no big illusion here.

The most famous —have always been men.

Listen up… my magical sisters.

I plan to break this gender hurdle.

Even if I keep getting harlequin headaches,

From this darn cat and extremely tight girdle.

Linking with the Sunday Muse

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

Photo: Source

The Tornado

                                                   Like a rapidly rotating tornado, the boy,

                                                      twirls on the ground kicking up dirt.

                                                           His imagination is completely

                                                               lost in the cumulonimbus

                                                                   war clouds. Wildly

                                                                    twisting beheading,

                                                                         the lilies, with

                                                                               the swirling

                                                                                  debris of a

                                                                                      plastic

                                                                                        sword.

         

                                                               Not even a grandmothers voice can

                                                                   penetrate, the tornados deep

                                                                    rumbling roaring noise. Finally

                                                                         the warm air that fed the

                                                                           tornado cools down          

                                                                             from cooler surface

                                                                                winds, and filled

                                                                                  the funnel with

                                                                                     Kool-Aid air

                                                                                      and cookie                                 

                                                                                       clouds. The

                                                                                          twisters

                                                                                             gone.

Photo: Unsplash

Linking with Poets United

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