Love

I’ve been searching for a comet

Hidden by the moon,

The brighter light obscuring

That which flees too soon. 

Love continues for a breath 

Familial in form,

But the brevity of romance

Has left a life forlorn. 

I now must never open

That reservoir -

Unleashed -

A torrent that could only lead

To equal measure of grief. 

Dedication

I vow, I do

dedicate myself

to ideals, to views

to become, to be

all I desire

or long to see ~

Often discomfort

leads to gain,

so dedication

is key to remain

committed

to the ethereal ~

Independence

The theme of independence

Starts with a fire in the soul

Either burning hot with passion

Or a devastated goal.

It's achieved of revolution,

A trip around the sun;

Or by a riot in the heart

Autonomy is won.

Freedom is a lancet

Remarkable in length.

Piercing disillusionment,

With assuredness in strength. 

Mortality

We are stories in the sink

Some fine china, some earthenware,

Some fired, some adorned,

All awaiting the same fate.

All, at the end, tarnished and soiled

From merriment and gluttony, 

Some chipped, some cracked,

Still serviceable

Until irreparably broken.

Soak a little, before the scrubbing;

Beware the pitfall of the drain,

And be raised, clean and sparkling 

Once again.

Science Fiction

 Galaxies imagined, 

      science fiction relates 

A life beyond 

     our current states. 

Yet already our lives 

     are so far ahead 

Compared to the lives 

     our ancestors lead.

Our time would seem -

     from their simple fare -  

Unimaginable 

     beyond compare, 

And still we dream 

     farther in space 

To fantastic things 

     we’ve yet to face.   

Art by Kendra

Ice

Life is bliss 

When it is frozen 

And winter's kiss

Kills summer's poison

Sparking frost

And freezing rain 

Grant rest from summer’s 

Rabid gain

“Peace, be still”

A Garden

Today I sowed productivity

    and despondency,

Which grew a hearty crop

    of reality.

Wilted wishes watered 

    responsible needs,

And I pray a return, in measure,

    of sacrificial deeds.

How do you nurture your dreams

    when you're tending another field?

Find a measure of peace,

    and beauty from the yield.

Creativity

Creativity

Is magnanimity 

Of spirit 

Gifts given -

Meant to use -

Channeled through 

An unseen muse

Grant a vision

Tinged with Genius

A messaged guidance

Meant to lead us

What is this invention?

A surplus of art -

Heightened living

Through the heart.

Sensations of abundance

Art by Kendra

Dreams

Hallucinations of the hippocampus - 

Fantastic exceptions to reality - 

Aid to discern actuality.

In symbolism wild.

These reveries of truth

In puzzles beguiled

Answer the questions

Our subconscious dialed

Illusions recur

Until we transform,

Translating the visions

By need performed. 

                                                                                Art by Kendra

The Future

​Resign to the future 

its universal design 

will follow its own will 

descending from the universe 

where it silently resides 

waiting - still. 

songs unwritten, wars unwaged 

love unspoken, placid rage 

Manifested from vibrations, 

the sensations we emit -

history yields to potential 

of that yet to be writ. 

blind might - potential  - unseen 

we wait to know what destiny 

the brazen stars will bring 

(despite soothsayers and tarot cards 

mountain grannies and highland bards)

Joy

“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.“ Psalms 30:5  

But then, how do we endure joy? 

Joy, akin to disbelief, 

is found when sorrow gives relief. 

If death could be averted, 

if grief could be converted, 

What ecstasy and bliss. 

Lying deeper than the shallow 

common happiness 

joy waits, fallow 

delighting in recompense. 

An unexpected gift, 

the healing of a rift 

or, perhaps, acceptance. 

It would be the rapture of an age.

Fire

I often woke while others slept

And crept into the den

Lured by dancing flames of mirth

That dad had risen to tend.

The glass-fronted stove emitted the light

Its tapestry patterns sewn

A happy contentment in my heart

For fleeting years at home.

I'd sit in the chair of the quiet house

With only the crackling wood

Wanting the moment to never pass...

If only it never could.

Kindness

Is kindness inherent?

     Could it seem more disparate

To basic human nature ~

    or survival?

More typical is the toppling

    of blocks on the playground.

Preschool takes seed,

    growing to greed in adulthood.

Yet, kindness is the only way

    to truly flourish through the fray ~

Another paradox of this existence.

    Revoke resistance.

Kindness is an action versus

    the mere thought of compassion,

Or the potential fallacies

    of niceness.

Act, and see what is reflected back to you

Parents

Our parents gave as parents should,

Taking us to the forested wood,

Providing instruction and fire and art,

Poems and music and songs to impart.

Risk was discouraged, and sensual expression;

Confidence hindered by over-protection.

But love was fierce and enveloped friends,

Healing ruptures with hearts to mend.

Moving through each granted season,

Interests encouraged, kept within reason ~

Culture refined and language defined,

Expectations clearly opined. 

Faith sought

Lessons taught

Living earned

Salvation earned.

I see you both now only through a dreamscape of film.

A New Year

 A New Year's Dedication

I loved my initial venture on this blog when it was entitled "Sublime Solice." At that time, it was comprised mainly of photos that soothed my soul. During years of caregiving for my parents, I needed the transition I made to haikus, tankas, and cinquains. Their brevity sustained me through a time when only short bursts of creativity were available.

A new track is beginning for 2023 - steeping myself in poetry. It is greatly inspired by the past few years' sojourns to see Emily
Dickinson's Homestead, Poe's museum in Richmond, the pilgrimage of Concord and Boston - Alcott, Emerson, Thoreau, Hawthorne - and the haunted "Afternoon on a Hill" with Edna St. Vincent Millay. It culminated with "I Heard the Bells" - a movie by Sight and Sound about Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and his journey to pen "Christmas Bells." 

Now, inspired, I have a book entitled "Write the Poem." It gives a single word prompt a day that is to lead to a poem. Yesterday's post, "Heaven," was my first of this year-long series to come. 

Heaven

I have caught a glimpse

Betimes - Defined

As the "thrill"

Granted more often in youth

When closer to that

From whence we came -

And in age - for where we go -

In between it falls distant

In busyness 

Until - Loss

Unless - Illness

It is an irredeemable destination,

Ironically.

I have seen the golden light

And silhouettes milling - waiting

For the completion of return

To the creation room.

Art by Cedar - Sea Cliff Eclipse

Golden glow - Ebb and flow

Through embrasure - Earthly erasure

Attempting to flee - The soul departs by degrees

In hope of reunion.

Art by Cedar - A Dream of Joy and Sorrow

We go with silver threads streaming from our fingertips.