Let / Allow

Being who we are
Differing brands, similar
Objects – perfectly
Fit for individuals,
Uniquely ourselves
Always.
Alignments given
No promises made,
But to live
Lovingly, kind,
Comfort in loneliness
Given appropriate season.
Then perhaps
There comes a time
To set free, let go,
Hearts beating
Separately distract,
Detract from
The rhythm of life,
Going we realize –
We remain open
To the opportune
Moment that may
Arrive unannounced.

While We Were Away

I was reading and thinking, realizing so much was different; the past was irretrievably gone. This short piece begins to deal with it, but LIFE will never resemble those bygone days.

Haphazardly Alone

I felt this topic applicable and have not posted from my journal recently, so I shared this. While doing my Creativity Project on Chronicles, I entered a handwritten piece almost daily.

I have been having difficulty with handwriting for a while. I recently discovered my vision impacted that because, on a whim, I picked up a set of reading glasses. I wear contacts that are an adequate adjustment, but close work like writing demands a bit more.

Being a bit perfectionistic, I hate to bring anything not up to my standard here.

Prompt: Do something unusual in your creative practice; share it if you dare.

Gratitude:

One of my most challenging times of year ends within the next few days, Easter being the culmination of it, and I made it through without a major meltdown.
Back on track with handwriting.
I cooked from scratch the other night, and it was not all bad.
Having a dishwasher.
Running water.

Sometimes I wonder why I continue with this, but it is my practice. If I were not doing the Creativity Project, I would not work as hard to produce something viable every day. If you would like to follow the site, see the sidebar for three methods. Communication from you as a reader gives me some clue whether or not I am engaging you in a manner that pleases you.

I hope all of you who celebrate Easter have a blessed one. To those following other paths, may you find hope, joy, and peace in your daily realm.

Willing Walls

Every rock feels like a wall
Weighted on the edges fit
To gloss right over
Enjambment holding words, lines
Together sentenced inside
The poem, river stones
Smoothed yet separated like
Those who secrets keep
Under mounds stacked much
Higher than maybe any desire.

Constant, no buyer
For the passions readily
Acquired under siege
Of rolling onslaught, bolder
Than before romance tendered.

The song, melodious surrender,
Now love, revoke the walls built
On forgotten dreams
Turn to see what such fascination
Means as inspiration – flames –
Creativity, freedom inclination,
No mystery tearing down
Careful barriers
Constructed to prohibit feral
Growth as if nothing is enough.

Love is no stone though
One might throw, causing ripples
On the surface, it seems time
Is only these shared moments,
All other becomes deprivation extreme,
A heart can be open
Or remain as hard as a stone;
The bedrock alone
Challenged with an anomalous difference
Which may be given and shown,
Love is and becomes the soul’s true home.

Not the Roses

Roses weep their
Jeweled blood
Upon deserts of
-Complaint-
No love we reap
With thorns of
Doubt,
Vicious fear,
Pricked hearts
Without restraint.

Love may in
A flood of tears
Wash into seas
Of time,
Where smiles
Decorate
Parting years,
All things set
Aright,
As gentle dew
Bathes
The roses
And the sun
Kisses
Pleasant gardens
With fantastic
Waves
Of delight.

Still, lifeblood is
Expended in fields,
Roses
Come to rest,
Creativity becomes
The hope to save
From rending;
Infinite test.
We are and are
Not
Known for inside
We lie hidden
Weeping
Often for what is
Forbidden.
Love and fear
Entwine
Become one, the
Same,
Edges cut, glass
Ensnares,
Inside alike
Yet, the time
It takes
More impossible
To reclaim.

What some call impossible is never far from mind.