Monday, September 30, 2013
I walked today on an ancient carpet
Woven of red dirt and dead leaves…
Under a lacy green moss canopy
And light rays like fire, from the trees.
I lost sight of my destination,
At first scent of the ocean breeze…
A prisoner in the fern cathedral,
Once I threw away the keys.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
One by one we lit our smokes
On another friend’s lit cigarette,
One by one we ignited our thoughts,
On a friend’s ideas and mind set.
One by one, we were rebels,
In ideas, our panache and name…
One by one we became unique
In dressing and thinking the same.
Monday, September 16, 2013
I stood on the desert’s precipice,
Watching the gorge turn an autumnal red;
The tenacity of a determined river,
Digging deeper for a comfortable bed.
The optimist sees a landscape’s change,
Creating beauty within the foreboding…
The pessimist mourns the missing soils,
Lost from eons of violent eroding.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
This is in response to a dear friend’s post on revisiting her journals while writing her dissertation.
"Swimming in my journals . . . in the past . . . in
story . . . in regret and heartache . . . in the redemptive nature of Psyche .
I have spent my entire life in that "Place", and lately have noticed I pass through the pages of my journals even while walking my dog on paths of asphalt or sand. Today, the major difference is, I find myself frequently weeping now as I revisit my past thoughts and memories. Strangely, I am finding a beauty in the experience, as I realize now, how overwhelmingly beautiful even the bad experiences are in retrospect. If I were a tree, all these aged thoughts and memories, created the individual leaves that gave me the once, such glorious display, still glorious, but now turning a golden red and falling.