I say.I tell.
I spill,
blab on and on and on.
I don't keep secrets.
My heart chitters, my palms sweat, and I close my eyes if you drive fast
and I'm sure I'm going to die...
And then I laugh with my mouth open when we fly around the corner and
Live.....
My eyes twitch when you poke me in the eyeballs with the Truth...
and I have to swallow it...
And I make the 'universal choking' sign...
just before
I get it....
and the universal Peace Sign when I understand...
I dance in the dark,
to liquid lyrics
and
drum beats
and the lazy casual smell
of honeysuckle on a tumbling fence...
not to your
recited words,
aftershave lotion,
or five o'clock shadow.
I cry.
In between commercials.
In the arms of my wayward son growing strong.
On the empty porch buried under colored crayons...
I talk to strangers.
Women with budding baby bumps,
homeless men with shoes I could have walked in,
dead dragonflies.
And I tell you how I feel...
It's real.
If you listened,
it would
be
the
gift.....
Be brave.
Feel the love...
14 comments:
lots of honeysuckle tumbling on my fences
Ibeati....Waving over the fence:)
I stumbled here via KJ's place.
I'm glad I did.
beautiful words♥
Studio Lolo...
Awwww...KJ...she's the love:)
I'm a wanderer anymore, just tripping by and tipping my hat and it's so nice to meet you on this trip! Much Peace:)
Be brave...
Feel the love...
Oh i feel it my friend,
Feel your truth reverberating
like a sudden warmth through
the ocean
This year has been
the hardest year
The year i saw
the one i loved
run in fear
from all that
we promised
And yet
the butterflies
believe...
In resurrection
In the power
of a bigger dreams
They ambush
me when
I'm walking
the sandstone
steps to the
sea
Black and white
wings
embracing
pain and joy
in patchwork
love
And I know that
Peace is a wild
angel
Free
Always
Opening
doors
Never looking
back
My love to you wonderful friend,
Maithri
woot
Be brave... she says
smiles
and ducks her head
in a mockery of the fear
reflected on my face or
my chattering symphony
of distraction
that sometimes used to
be
poetic...
Be brave.
Feel the love...
And I have no choice
but to surrender
'cause it's better to be
her willing captive
here on the porch
than to be a prisoner
weighed down with the
chains and heavy heart
of rusting rod iron
eroding in the rains
of another passing season
give me a push~
this old tireswing has
a few more revolutions
to make before the rope
gives way to freefall
and I'm feelin it tonight
Peace at ya, my friend. Glad whenever you find the words and share them with the kids out here on the porch.
Maithri....
"Peace is a wild Angel"
Ahhhh, my friend,
you know her well...
She trips across the dance floor,
catching her toes
in the ratty tatty hemline of chaos,
to the sound of pots and pans
banging
clanking
rusty
and plastic handled,
but somehow
she hears the
accidental orchestra,
the electric windchimes,
the bongo drums in the
withered fronds of the palm trees
and she knows...
to dance,
to let her mascara run,
to pour wet concrete
into the blanket of chaos,
and fall to her knees
and sculpt row
after
road
of yellow bricks....
Much Love, my friend,
in these wayward times,
and always.
Scott...
Silly boy! Cheers to ya!
Eric...
And so it goes,
the prophetic poet
walking
barefoot
through my garden
of
moonflowers
and
sunflowers
and high f'n noon flowers...
knows
just what petals
to guitar
pluck one at a time to
'he loves me,
he loves me not'
and which ones
to tromple, trample,
squish...
until they
stain your fingers,
until they make cheap
rasberry wine...
and leave
lipstick kisses
on empty wine glasses....
Porch lights...
They glow in the dark:)
Clink!
Clink!
For the sideways glancing smile
I thank you
for the rose petals
daffodil buttercups
and
the cheap raspberry wine
so heady that it
spins my whole life
around and around
and around
until the stars are
right there to be touched
to be written with
and rode upon like skyhorses
shadows of laughter and love
lending us the cool night
before the dawn spills
light upon the land again
and again as it always has
heedless of the morning rain
moonflowers...
She says this to me
to all of me
and all the rest
as I...
I am the wind
fly with me again one night
and the moon will blossom
gold doubloon
so often out of reach
but riding low enough to be
picked up
put in pocket
or
given freely
to a friend who would
know
how best to use
the silver light she sheds
and I will thank you...
I don't know how i missed this one... so beautiful... and all of the poetic response... amazing... and beautiful...
Clink... clink!... and clink!
... and tell me about this photograph!...
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