Life

Saga of One Life
One life
Woven saga
Lashed to sagas
Twisted together strung
Frothing blue
Waves crashing
Together apart
Together

*

 

 

Jubilant Wonder

Basic Needs

 

Why

 the Jubilant faces?

What was the Misery?

 

 

Lifeblocks

Brick by brick

Before building I make

brick by brick

Every solid symmetrical

Brick by brick

Each un-squared crumble-prone

Brick by brick

My precious bricks

South X South

 

Inward South

Go

Outward South

Come

Upward South

Fall

Forward South

Be

 

*

Arts

 

We were such sweet fascist buddies

A world all black and white

Now skies are yellow

Now cats are blue 

The artists got to you

*

Healthy Soul of the City

Soul blood runs in art

Beats in playing dazzled

Painted sculpted city heart

*

 

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Artist

Sometimes I didn’t die

Destiny breathed sighed

Wiggled the underestimate

Got comfortable inside

*

 

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Limits to the Five Senses?

A sense of time, what sense is this?

A sense of vision, no?

Vision Touch Hearing Smelling Taste

A sense of smell, now mean it like visionary vision

A sense of vision. What?

If vision can be expanded to the imagination

If vision has a passport to the future, but

A sense of hearing… Them voices you mean?

Why hold back the other senses from expanding?

What’s the expanded form of sense of touch?

Good taste may be yummy to all the senses

Our senses our sense of self or sense of selves

Why is only visionary rewarded esteemed healthy?

Hear into the future or imagination, smell feel

Taste these  results

Feel how it will feel

Hear it’s voices

Fall in love

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Out of Sync
Out of Sync
Some Inner Outer Beings Artfully Synced-Waywardspirt Art
Inner Beings Outer Beings Artfully Sync

 

 

 

*

Cheap Imitations

Survival of the Artist

Art

Or not

Or not

*

 

 

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Immunity

Infected my a monster’s bite

Vampires suck your soul

Your psyche lost to a quiet lie

What’s a doctors roll?

Immunity to social virus

Invisible TB

Do generations pass it down

Or do we need vaccines?

*

 

 

Beholder

Holding chaos by it’s tail

Admiring the cuteness

In the palm of my hand

Or in the eye

Stillness

*

Pulling Ideas

 Sometimes I

Take a stroll

Take the hoe

Or carry a basket

Through my idea

Garden

*

 

Value

Sacrifice

Giveing up

what I want less

For

what

I want more

Sacrifice

*

Patchwork Soul

Shadow thread weaves

Webs of stands of real

Stubbed yellow tears

Brocken hearted glory

Stitched into a soul

By how I feel

*

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Writing on the Beach

 

Open window trailing words

Blue chemistry falling views 

Gleaming explosions gusts of worlds

Wisps of stillness

 Enchantment twirls

Life blows in

Inspirations waves

Smashes hurricane

To the page

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Writing Into Dust Devils

 

“I feel ungrounded. No poems to read. No pictures to ruminate over.” One of my good reader friends complained on May 2 after National Poetry Writing Month NaPoWriMo was over. When I stopped posting.

Hay, NaPoWriMo is over. No more poems for you.

But then, his unease started sinking in and reflecting how I was feeling. I realized. I feel ungrounded too. No picture to create, no poem to wonder into being. My life is off.

Only half of why I write is enough to keep me writing for the rest of my life. To stop writing wondering painting the reasons the wonders is to die. The other half of the reason I write is unrest or energy swirling, mind dust devils curiosity and ravenous hunger to ride to learn to grow to tell stories to inhabit stories.

Postaday on WordPress is still here though NaPoWriMo is over. So even though I can’t get the Postaday badge to stick on here and it seems a little contrived, I need the stucture to write and hope now. A game to ride the beautiful bucking swirling dust devils into ink seahorses to frolic on the page for you. Because I need to.

Weekly Photo Challenge and Weekly Discover Challenge also keep me wondering and going there admiring the world. Admiring the world keeps me close to the wind and tight woven with the magic of gratitude so they enchant this mysterious rodeo.

I hope you have as much fun reading as I do writing. I love the ride. I love you guys.

Wide Open Space

Abandoned

 

Painting that Sound

That color

Of music

That sound

Feel drums in your blood

Pound

 

The sound

Puppet of notes

Guitar strums you round

That sound

 

That sound

Moves you with it

Dances your feelings feet

Round

 

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Paradox

 

Scars

Make me human

Scars

Tell my story

Scars

Give me character

Scars

Don’t define me

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Curves

 

We

The lovliest

Curves

In the

Galaxy!

 

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Obstacles

Don’t feel it

Not today

Too much to do

 Look away

Sleeping doesn’t satisfy

Watching isn’t bliss

I need to be a part of things

There’s no way out of this

*

Net Intellectual Develompent

A place

To risk a whisper

An ear

As big as light

  Connected minds

What substance matters

Woven stars

All Night

Return It

Borrowed to be

This to do list

Of what

  Why

 A story of me

Ways

Unquestioned reasons

A copy

Place

Dissapointment compost

 Dirt after it rains

The smells it grows

Feeds you from pains

Life Cycle

Somehow knows

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You

Twirling

Around the sun

with you

What fun

What fun

What fun!

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Earth

us

The Mysteries

Cross-section fog

Reel in the rain

Fill life with a bucket

Twelve of joy none

None of pain

Currencies

 

Value in what

Priceless for sale

Art currents

Fake fate

Discounted souls

Surrender

art dying heart Waywardspirit

Out!

Closeted beings

Asleep in your bed

Body’s un-life

Crouched starved smothered head

 shriveled 

Dying – undead

 

Posted hung secret

Collectively held

Bodies melt to skeletons

The smell the smell

The smell!

Basic

Breath of life

Breath of art

How do you

Tell the two

Apart?

Fill your mouth

With yummy life

Breathe your soul

With what?

Delight

Bedtime

 

Bedtime

Sleep
Come to earth
Dream tears
Wonder mirth
Mare life
Play this game
Giggle
From till birth
*

Green Superstition

Superstition

Archaic

Modern device

Keeps a world

Coherent

Till green wonder 

More than

Twice

 

Newspaper

Who is paper

What is news

Morning and mornings

Like coffee persued

The same

Reincarnated

Daily

or manic

Newspaper

You?

 

Tricky

Tricky quest

Painted beads

Life strings glimmer

Eddible words

Unrefined

Poked with a stick

Nutritious

Gems strung on living twine

Unstrung

*

Wonder?

 

The best way
of life in a statement
from a distance
between the lines
in your head

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Bottled?

The Answer

Surrender
Soft
Warm
Streching
To
Flowers
To
The sweetness of the sky
Desire
Come
In Sping wind
Orange leves and blew
True as now and follow flowers
Live in 42

image

42 Diversity Challenges

Best way to “fix” a human with zero regard for humanity?
Expose ’em to others just like ’em.

I would say: “That’ll learn em!” if I wasn’t talking about myself.

image

42 Favorite Things

Been away
Delivering
To top secret site
Losing tracers
So they don’t
Crash paradise
Godiva chocolate shake
Fresh roast coffee
Omaha steak
To Dagny Taggert
Henry Rearden
John Galt
They don’t belive
In iPhone
Plumbers
Pizza delivery
Eny of it
They love it

image

Mystery 42

image

If to be physical is to be gaming
An objective, rules, setting, bounderies
Timed
Not to be gaming is to be god
Play
Life
Through the glass darkly
Delicious wondering
Mystery known
Goes lame

Where You Are Your Face – Mind the Gap

wpid-2013-04-30-16.04.34.jpgTulips as FacePeople Together
Just our faces
It is only what it is
A chance
To lose
To gain in all-encompassing
Game on a disk inserted
Into a system,
Games end

Me and my 542 bestest friends (on Facebook)

Tulip Farm Like Facebook

Discarded in a pile
Scrap-booked old board game
Even Multiplayer Online Adventures
Being strengthens and fades
Connection delighted  breach unfriended

Wins defeat perfect moments memories
Communion play lost found
Tulips beauty
Not everything
Touched
Not nothing
Facegifts-flowers

Tulips as FacePeople

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***
Weekly Writing Challenge: Mind the Gap

Facebook: To poke or to puke

No Longer A Mere Mortal? – You’re Dead

natura morta natura morta (Photo credit: Circolo d’Arti)

Become immortal
Drink it

Tried that last time
Oops I died

wpid-1352567483927.jpg Delightful Solitude, Waywardspirit,

Game over
Re-group
Re-design
My Earth-Game-Plan
Gather more supplies
Wait for the team
Return

Start over

Damn
My character falls
For it

Hoping like hell
I won’t have fell
This time
Messing up my glorious
Virtual-reality-
Multi-player-adventure-game
Again

Still mortal?
Yes!

Onward!
Fun
To
Quest Complete!


“You’ve imbibed a special potion that makes you immortal.
Now that you’ve got forever, what changes will you make in your life?
How will you live life differently, knowing you’ll always be around to be accountable for your actions?”

Daily Prompt: No Longer A Mere Mortal

 

Being Present and Away

Present Away

Silence invests in me
Doing nothing
Sets Inward free
Is a liberal education
Investing me into it
Or it in me

Invest in me|
I become original
Add to being
Rather than fitting
A brick in a wall
A dollar in a wallet

Liberal educated
For a library fee
When college classes aren’t
Anymore
Making me more me

***

“How do you grow?”

wpid-2013-04-30-14.47.18.jpg“By investing in yourself.”

Shuronda Robinson of MakingThingsClear.com

From Panel discussion at Woman’s Entrepreneurial Luncheon 2013 Austin Texas

Stepping In Spell

Waywardspirit Art Stepping in Image

Realms touch
Powers mingle
Magic born
Of fairies
In people
Impossible charmed
Wind alive
Unimagined desire
Dot a dot
Life on fire
Dream physics
Demand require
Honey-dipped moon
Mother heart
Solid revere
Human art

Reality. Really?

Security richness joy
Already installed
Reboot

Power switch
Re-create experience
By feeling what is not

Neither is heart
Nor want

Not that
Not art

In this life model app
Desire attracts support

LIght Way

A Glass Darkly – Empty and Full

Empty and Full

 

I don’t matter
Is Gravity

I matter
I gravity defie

Evil is a gravity
Invisible don’t fly

Waywardspirit Art Sitting Edwards Art on wall at ADS

SAMSUNGThe world is cartoon.
Why look down?

Daily Challenge:

Half Empty or Half Full

Pictures? None Taken

image

 

Ah, looking up
The sky’s in my eye
I’m not quite as lost as a star
Me and the leaves
Turning brown, drifting down
We’ll live again blown on a breeze

 

The Missing- We Miss Out

Missing people strangers

Out of art’s mind

Mis-fitted driven mad

Beauty un-enjoyed
wpid-1349802363048.jpg
Curated eyes

Delighted edge

Seeing un-made art

Deprive a brocken world again

Already locked apart

Of crazy

Is insane

Story Existing

Existing Between Story Lines

You make me
Feel

I live in

The books I read
Still

A cyber story space

Nowhere in story

Somewhere
To meet you there my friends

We all exist between the lines

Of the words that we create
Life

A living spirit jumps

Peacefully off this page

I keep it

It keeps me

Waywardspirit Art Existing StoryCompany

 

Dare

Government immature ineffective

I immature ineffective

Not only are
Bad guys bad
I am bad
For how I see
Bad guys

I am everything bad
Everything good

You need me

If I don’t,

It won’t

Become

World-peace

Done

A person lost

-A horse shoe nail

Modern horseshoes are most commonly made of st...

 

Does Life Give You A Choice?

Hardness or Harness -A Poem

My passion  she –
She chose her Way
My now
My choice
How to
Not
Or feel
Today

   ***

Family-Waywardspirit Art

Hardness or Harness-A story

My baby might not live she whispers; hollow calm lands on my stunned disbelief.

I’m staring at nothing, holding my breath mind goes blank. It’s about the phone. How did I get a call here?

This is a clinic. I’m at a clinic for my pre-natal. No one is that interested in my baby or my check up. It’s just us now. Who would call here for me or care how my check up went? When I walked out of the exam room, The nurse blankly informs me I have a phone call. Before I can protest, some confusion, she qualifies.

You are Jessica LeBaron right?

I nod.

She leads me to the front desk. Confused shock has me when the receptionist staring at the file cabinet hands me the phone.

I’m bewildered.

I didn’t give anyone this number.

Shock didn’t know which to choose, Eva’s unexpected voice and those words. What do they mean? How did I get any call at a midwives’ office.

Eva knows I would be at a clinic on Ben White. That’s it. She is seeing her doctor today too. We were going to talk about our maternity checkups when we got home.  Our random appointments ended up being on the same day. This serendipity delights us. Not as much as finding our we are due within the same two weeks though. We thought of riding together to our appointments, but it hadn’t worked out. Our appointments were at almost the same time like our babies, at opposite ends of town.

We were room mates after I got separated, till she got married. We are best friends. We are having babies together. We are excited. We both laugh a lot-till now.

I lose control of my jaw.

Did you hear what I said: My baby isn’t going to live.

She is quiet till I grasp and gasp.

Oh, Eva! I whisper into the receiver.

My baby is not going to live, she repeats with stunned emotion.

Oh. All I can do is sigh.

I’m calling you first because I know you would understand. Would you come over?

Yes, I’ll be right over. I’ll be right there.

Okay, then.

We hang up.

I turn around and rush back to the midwife.

Please help me! My throat clenches tears in my eyes. My friend. She just found out her baby may not live. What do I do? How do I help her?

I don’t feel like I can do her any good.

They tell me how to just be there, to listen and allow her to grieve. I can help then, I figure.

We were going to meet at my apartment. But I go to hers, now. She is on the couch wrapped up in her arms staring into space. She turns and stares at me. Just stares. We stare at each other. The emotional territory was to expansive and explosive to enter. Everything is numb and blank and hurt.

I’m going to a specialist for another sonogram. The doctor is sure of what he sees, or doesn’t see, but he sent me to a specialist. I can’t believe he knows what he is talking about.

I need to calm down.  I need to call mom and dad. I still have to tell Jon. How do I tell Jon? I can’t tell Jon!

Jon is out-of-town for another few weeks on in-between job training for the new one. Eva’s parents live in Arizona. She asked me to come. We go to the second appointment together. It’s scheduled around my classes. It was the quickest appointment she could get. Either way I was going.

Five happy moms smile contented almost cooing rubbing their bellies or reading baby magazines in the  comfortable deep cushions of the waiting room. I try to do none of those things. We only glance at each other, hoping not to convey despair to the blessed. We don’t talk or leaf through baby magazines or act blessed however. We fidget till we are called back into the brightly lit sonogram room.

The sonogram technician had a softness about her gentle way. Eva lies on the table. I sit in the chair next to her. After she introduces herself and settles Eva she squeezes warmed gel into Eva’s hand then waits for her to rub it around her belly with hopeful stokes. Eva wanted to apply it herself. She places the ultra sound device on Eva’s belly. We all turn to the screen.

First we hear it. A familiar heartbeat. Everything good and normal so far! Eva sighs, fights back tears, stays calm.

We follow the image watching intently as the tech labels and describes the sonogram in a matter of fact way.

The amniotic fluid is very low. There is almost none.

This is the heart here. It’s located on the right side.

Here are the lungs. They under-developed.

Kidneys should be here. Pause.

All of this could be good or at least okay or remedial, we are hoping. We look at each other with another flashing spark of hope. Get some synthetic amniotic fluid inject it, no problem, or something like that.

So what is the problem then? So everything is really okay?!

Well, kidneys are not visible.

What does that mean?

I assume she will just keep on looking till she finds them.

I am not finding kidneys.

What does that mean?

Kidneys manufacture and filter the amniotic fluid.  The amniotic fluid gets breathed into the lungs. It is how lungs develop. There is not enough amniotic fluid to develop the lungs. Kidneys are not producing it. There is only one and it is small.

Can that be fixed? Can one be added or something? I could give one.

Even if we could fix that. This shows that the heart is on the right side instead of the left.

Lungs this small won’t catch up in time to breathe at birth, or ever.

Eva whimpers and hides her face.

This small kidney here. Too small to filter enough blood. No kidney visible here…

Stop stop!  Stop it! Please stop telling me wrong things about my baby! Don’t tell me! Don’t tell me anymore. She breaks down sobbing shaking, just contained urgent wailing trapped in her not catching her breath.

Tech leans forward pats her and lets her cry.

I understand how hard this is for you. I am sorry.

When she recovers her voice after a while, the tech asked if we were ready to see what the doctor had to say. She Tech led us to the waiting doctor.

His gentleness let her fall apart, again.

She wept then cried out: Why? Why did this happen?

There is no reason. No cause that we know of.

So this just happened to my baby for no reason? She demands.

I’m sorry there is nothing I can do to make this easier, but yes. It’s sad that someone like you who really wants a baby doesn’t get one when I’ve seen babies survive a whole bottle of Drain-O, just fine.

We look at each other horrified.. How could someone not want a baby?

We know the stories, yet we are incredulous. Unfairness is deep.

When you are ready, we can talk about what you want to do next. Come back as soon as you are ready to consider what course of action you want to take.

This is a great loss for you. You and your husband must have been very excited about the arrival of your first child. Take a day. Come back in a day or two. After you talk to your husband, to discuss what you want to do. Be back within two days, I’ll see you whenever you come. He soft smiled warm reassurance then he got up and left.

Like what? What we can do, didn’t hit us till we got home.

Next appointment is about risks and options.

Should I go full term or terminate and start the healing process?

The child can’t breath. It will never breath. It won’t ever function or live. It will suffocate as soon as it’s born, if it doesn’t die during the stress of birth or even before then. It could die at any time.

You could decide to carry to term. If you decide to go full term you need to be seen every week in case the fetus expires and labor doesn’t start. That could  lead to blood poisoning, a risk. Otherwise, you can go into labor at any time. There is no way to predict an outcome.

Then in the middle of bewildered not, letting go while not wanting to hold on, or prolong anguish, and wondering, he drops another bomb:

If you are going to choose to end it, he pauses with a sigh of frustration, you have three days to decide. In three days third trimester, anti-abortion laws come into effect. If you don’t choose to terminate in the next three days, after the three days, we can no longer assist you in termination. You must either go into labor, or your life be in danger for the pregnancy to be terminated.

I have to decide now?

You must decide, if you want to take action, yes, within three days. After that there is nothing we can do. Our hands are tied. The law is clear. No exceptions. No third trimester procedures. Third trimester starts in three days.

We sit on her couch staring into space and crying. Her crying makes me cry. I feel the loss of my son all over, plus her loss. By heart about bursts. It has been five years, but when I found out in the middle of getting divorced that I was pregnant, I considered not going through with it, just to be responsible to myself.

I’m in the middle of school with two kids to keep and figure out how to support without a partner. I’m still not able to describe what is going on, but the idea of losing  a baby on accident or on purpose both add up the same in my feelings. The idea of adopting my baby out to someone else is unthinkable. We may have no stable future, but in the world I exist in now, I have no other choice. In about a week I love the baby as I knew I would. It would be stupid for me to put my heart up for adoption, or to end the relationship. Even if it’s not responsible to have a child without support, I surrender to being a single mother and feeling happy with Eva.

Now this.

Her parents arrive. I go back to school grieving indignant, and remembering.

While I volunteered for Campus Crusade for Christ and attended the meetings that rallied Christians and got Bush elected in the early nineties I was into the anti-abortion campaign, especially no third trimester abortions. Now something is happening. It’s not black and white anymore.

I can’t just not be pregnant anymore just like that Eva steady wails!  The kids at school…the other teachers..the girls they pat my tummy lined up on the way out of class.

If someone asks me if it’s a boy or a girl when I get back I don’t know what I’ll do. Everyone will ask.

Have you got a name yet Miss?

How are you Miss?

How is that baby?

I couldn’t keep explaining there is no baby, her voice cracks, for another three months…but it will be right here…

For  three more months. I couldn’t work this way. I couldn’t explain it either. I will just bust out crying, for the next three months. I couldn’t work this way. I’d just be knowing the baby is not going to live or already dead. I don’t know what to do!

I could stay home and be with the baby. It’s to soon to make this choice. I wish Jon could come back and be here. He can’t take off till the end of the week. We have till tomorrow to decide.

Now, I’m in this government class writing a paper about laws. I have allot to say about how stupid this anti-abortion law is. It’s taking Eva to a whole new level of misery, like insult on injury.

My government teacher read only my outrage essays to the class while I skipped it. I went to the hospital with Eva to celebrate the sacred death and birth of her son. Jon couldn’t get back in time. The law couldn’t wait.

We were into our babies.

If she had not been into her baby there would be noting to cry about.

Abortion is like a break up with the baby when this relationship just isn’t working both ways, before you marry…When I’m just not into you.

A shaman woman I know, went into a sacred meditation to talk to the child when she discovered their relationship. She talked to it and listened. She acknowledged their relationship.

I’m thankful you like me she told him. It was a boy. You chose me to be your mother. So I am. Yet, it’s not a good time for me to be in this relationship. Would you try again later?

She got a “sure”.
Next day she started bleeding and thanked her child for honoring her choice.

Wonderful woman I know made their choices to not be mothers when they were not ready. That choice did not include being an oven to bake a child for nine months then give it to someone else.

The adoption choice works good for some people, which is cool.

Pregnancy in the 26th week. Pregnancy in the 26th week. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Me? No way is my body gonna be forced to make a lonely baby whom I’m not attached to. No way would I choose to be sick for months, throw up constantly, gain forty lbs, go through labor delivery blood spouting major surgery that takes weeks to recover from, while everyone is wondering, family asking as I’m to wiped out to take care of myself, with no support just to give some one a baby for free.

Pretty dumb all around, if you ask me.

There is nothing wrong with adopting out. I’m personally not into it-at all.

It’s defiantly not the only valid response to birth-control malfunctions. There are as innumerable appropriate valid responses to unplanned pregnancy. As many as there are woman and situations.

The relationship between mother and child is what it is to me. I am in or I’m not. Just like any other relationship.

I can break up. A possible child need not force me.

Babies don’t force me to become their mother. Nor does a baby need to endure a horrible non-wanted toxic environment. It’s a crappy co-dependent relationship that way.

I choose if I want to invite a spirit into a body with my body, into my life. I choose if I want to help someone else by baking a baby for them. I am a free woman. I have lots of choices! Perhaps unborn spirits have choices we don’t know about.
Wouldn’t put it past them. I bet, babies would choose to be happy and mom be happy, too.

Or maybe babies are the selfish assholes?

Baby Baby (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Playing With Space-And Stuff That Is Not There

Waywardspirit Art Yellow

Painted Honey

Terrified
Swatting at 1986 killer bees
Today

Agreed upon sanity
Scarce Sweetness
Called sane

Madness’ taste of fairy honey

Holding on breath
The way of our bodies
Whimsically true
Parallel planes entwined
***

Weekly Writing Challenge:

Playing With Space

http://wp.me/p23sd-4wo

Interesting:

http://wp.me/p2CdMi-G

Imperfection-A Poem

Human Perfection

Imperfection’s part of love

Wabi sabi‘s story of

Frayed edges of insane

Being ecstasy and bane

Cracked heart chipped cup

Shattered then not giving up

Hero and villan of our tale

We’re  all the same

 Be real

 cherished

Evolving imperfection

EqualsDaly Post

Daily Prompt:

Imperfection:

http://wp.me/23sd

Turn Turn Turn

Passion Wants You! Surrender  It Comes Out

The Seasons

Turn

Life morphs her form

Season reasons

Moon cycles burn

Creative season Springs

Work zodiacs then learns

 Favorite season creates

Contemplation Falls on me

Play dances us away

Random Harvests time

Dark Night of Winter’s Soul

Summer is Winter riding low

Two weeks vacation sweetens

Two month’s fruit

Then, forced a Season

English: Lunar libration. see below for more d...
English: Lunar libration. see below for more descriptions Français : Librations de la lune. Voir une description détaillée en dessous. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Daily Post

Daily Prompt:

Turn Turn Turn

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Alma Mater

image Waywardspirit Art : My Straight and Narrow Path
My Straight and Narrow Path

***
Alma Mater
Stillness my speech
School of Life
We all attend
Most unlucky
So fortunate
No school trapped me
Sweet Alma Mater
My library
***

image

Most Prized Possession-My Own Attention

Lost

My Attention

Riot of peace

Currency to pay

My best companion

Fountain of joy

The Observer

Gone away

Kidnapped

Wafted off like smell

Forgotten-what are you?

Wooed away

Trapped

Stuck

Wrapped up by emotions

Squeezed out my mind

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Daily Post

Daily Prompt:

Most Prized Possession:

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National Poetry Writing Month

NaPoWriMo:

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Share the Love

Worldwide Magic

Ingredients for magic
Or a spell
Studied or cast
Present or past

This magic you weave

Weaves me

Into a glowing tapestry
Invisible by heart’s hands

Mind’s omnipotent body

World Wanted

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Poem

Eye response
Acceptance smile
Image moved
Pleased hunger
Receives again
Delicious Words
Feelings explode
Ideas gleam
Touch me more

To be enjoyed
The greatest gift

Enjoy you-

Communion

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