Wake up with songs.
Feel rested from the night.
Time for blessings.
Not alone in my search.
Each day offers habit
executed with purpose.
Some days the purpose
is rewarded.
Granted those bright days.
A holiday, even though mundane.
Bright days are prayers answered.
Scattered in the storm of chaos.
Things go right with little or no push.

Far from done,
But nothing left
To give.
Just the loneliness
Creeping from
Outer edges to
My center.
What will bring me
From empty.

It sets forth the beginning.
It sets forth the reason.
It sets forth the place.
It sets forth the children.
It sets forth the intent.
It sets forth the remedy.
It sets forth the end.
My humble complaint.

Cast
Onerous
Pity
Into
Neglected
Garbage

Soothing as my mood runs
in disorder.
Soft whispers against
My harsh inside voice.
Like a drop of ink
Split into a bucket of water.
It dissolves and fades.
Lavender with sweet scent,
Makes me rest.
Tired of troubles.
Free of thought.
Tumbling away concerns.
Released.
Quiet empty.

You said, I would be fine;
You said the time would be mine;
You said your time had come;
You said your time was done;
You said do it all, under the sun;
You said you were leaving;
I wasn't fine;
The time wasn't mine.
Now, I want to join you because my time feels done;
Why did you leave me?

Cuddle up tight in a warm blanket;
With pillows surrounding;
Christmas tree blinking at me in the corner;
Fire crackling in the fireplace;
Hot chocolate on the table;
Fun book in my lap;
Not enough of these lazy days.
Kids come through shouting;
Goldens jump up in my lap tipping over cocoa;
This is the chaos that I know.
Time to wrap the gifts, let out the dogs, and treat the kids.
Thoughts of reading tossed aside with my book's lost mark.

Lonesome house in the field.
No longer full of voices.
No longer full of family.
Where lives bloomed.
Where tragedy came.
Left abandoned.

Lonesome house in the field.
No longer claimed.
No longer wanted.
With front porch dipping down.
In graceful bow to passing traffic.

Lonesome house sitting in the field.
No longer stories.
No longer groomed.
With golden fields surrounding,
Collapsing dreams forever lost
in a pile of wood coming down.

Tripping with delight
in time to the music
of my heart.
Spent with the love
so bright and pure.
Moving with the thrill
of "yes, I am sure."
Not thinking of what
might be, but
how it feels.
Move in time with
reckless step.
Dance of life.
Dance of instinct
Without thought.

Gray ash on pale skin;
Wednesday's child;
Smolder with repentance.
Confess your sins.
Release your worries.
Walk the path of reflection.
Revel in the silence.

He would watch with his tender eyes.
Almost misting, sometimes.
Almost smiling, sometimes.
I think I mistook tenderness
seeing it as his love of me.
However, he was not tender.
The look covered the lies that
he did not want me to see.
He melt my brains with the look.
No tenderness, just pity
for my ignorance.
"Ahh, she knows better."
But we all grow and see.
Now, I look with tenderness
at him with thoughts
of what he missed.

With all the celebration
of Eve and Day;
The festive expectation;
The next day is forgotten;
The feeling of all done;
The giant wave of over;
Wait for another Eve and Day
yet to come.
The guess of how many more.
Somehow the bust of over
is never truly calculated
in the fun of Eve and Day.
All  the thought and expense.
Yet the gift is always there.

Child wraps arms
around herself.
Gently poking bony parts.
Momma says "Angel Wings."
Tightly hidden by earthly self.
Waiting with expectation.
Stretching to burst
forth with purpose.
"Come out!"
Momma strokes the angel wings.
"Not soon, live your life.
The wings won't come 'til
you are done. So much life
for those wings to grow.
Keep those wings  deep inside."

Wouldn't it be a shame...
If Mother Teresa and Hilter
are in the same place.
Not to share his darkness.
Hopefully to share her light.
Perhaps, he was a sick man
Who needed to be healed.
He was a bad man
who needed to be stopped.
Maybe if they are in the same place,
She has helped him heal.
Wouldn't it be a shame...
For bad not to know
the kindness of good
to only see the weakness.
Wouldn't it be a shame...
For goodness never to have
the opportunity to heal.

Dry with bliss.
Sensation without purpose.
Just a near miss.
A peak rising
amongst the clouds.
Sunshine blazing.
Warm sensation.
No acknowledgement
of below.
Vacation from despair.

Make room.
Rain or shine.
A happening to share.
No RSVP.
Just a notion.
Day into night.
Drunk with music.
Green grass under foot.
Beverage toted by pickup.
Fellowship,
Maybe romance.
Sleep it all off.
Portable party.
Ease of youth.
Angels dancing.
Demons spinning.
Life living.

To sleep late;
To walk outside
and feel the warm sun;
Splash in the cool ocean;
Not worry about others.
To exist with sunburn.
Read my book as I please.
Knowing it will flee
with giggling speed
as child running past.
This week almost more
for thought of what will be.

Little lady sit there still;
Never raise concern;
No skinned knees;
No challenge, please;
Watch life and learn;
Don't question, just observe;
Not a bother;
Soft spoken;
Hidden by the veil of shyness.
Think your own thoughts;
Dream your silent dreams;
Don't disappoint with rebellion.
Never let them see your thought.
Only share with God.
But the problem is  
once you are grown --
Life's a struggle with a battle
Never learned.
Only dreams and thoughts
of what should be.
Never knowing how it is truly done.

All flavor in one sip.
A sip taken with a glance
over the cup into deep
lost space of nothing eyes.
Beautiful empty with no mood.
Such discomfort in blank nothing
for all but me.
All had stepped away.
My fascination with
How to pull forth the thought
which is so deeply unseen.
A twitch at the corner of lips.
The open eyes are watching
with almost something.
I raise my face and smile.
There you are.
Not so lost, not so alone.
Just withdrawn.

Just in the shadows,
Waiting to take a step forward.
Hesitation for a blessing
Or a lack of courage?
Lingering to see.
Not ready to commit.
Always someone else.
Never the hero
to save the day.
Just a bystander to marvel
At life happening.

When I was a child,
Little convertibles were the car
to have;
You grew your hair long;
You walked bare foot;
Wore denim;
Big clothe bags;
Ate vegetables; and
Found yourself by
Travelling the road.

Crazy in my mind
Trapped in a life I did not choose
Crazy in my mind
No release
Duty is mine
No place of solace
Don't share your guilt with me
Crazy in my mind
Let me be
Just a little peace

Pink it out;
Trace the path;
Color the truth;
Leave traces behind;
Brand your prize.
Silly trip of fancy.
Telling all secrets
of the unforgiven.

Never to your face.
Written in rhyme.
Shared by anonymous
No I never rhyme.
I share your wrong
in rhythm.
My heart bleeds in beat.
I don't ***** words from mouth.
They bleed from brain on paper.
Hoping you feel my paper cuts.

Placed carefully in the pie tin
as kitty looks on;
Rich, wet and dark;
Set carefully in the sun;
Ready to bake;
Seems a true masterpiece:
Rich with texture;
Best left moist;
So deceiving in its place.
How many mudge pies
Take the place of fudge?
Look around and count.
Is it mudge or fudge?
A try will tell.
What fools the eye
does not fool the gut.

Wake a day with longing.
Drawing from deep within
Strength from your very core.
To make it better with  sheer
Force of will.
Wellbeing because you want
To make it be.
Chase away the unknown
For that desired.
I will make it go away.
I will find the day
Of results gained.
Wake a day with success.

He stands beside me.
His sensitive heart catches my despair
And tosses it gently from me.
His easy grip holds me firm with hope.
He knows my dreams for him.
I want him to be free of care.
I don't want him to cry for me.
He is too young to be caught
with me.
I will find peace within
So my son can fully shine
Without a care for me.

The room is spinning;
In my mind
I try to jump on top
As if I am on a Disney ride.
Feeling the sensation
Like teacups spinning.
I don't want to stand
And fall from the ride.
So I rest with eyes shut
Caught on the ride.
My own personal park.

Feeding the press
Sprinkling half truths
For busy fish who care not
Where the bites originate
Its on the net -
Its in the net
Must be true
Never knowing truth
Just interesting speculation
Chum on the water
From the chum who claims to know.

I want to run screaming down the street
Let me go!
Let me go!

I want release
Don't follow me!
Don't follow me!

I want to be free
Leave me be!
Leave me be!

I want to let go
But I can't
But I can't

Holly and mistletoe drape the halls.
Marriages held together with sticky frosting
like gingerbread houses awaiting the
resolutions of the first.
Families hold in place with anticipation.
First babies, first puppies, couple's first Christmas
adorn the trees as ornaments to be kept forever.
Children's hasty gifts made in kindergarten,
first grade, second grade decorate the tree
until fallen to bits unable to hang.
The short day comes with preparation
for the day of blessing and hope.
The short day comes  so quickly
and leaves so quietly,
we almost forget to feel.
But take a step away.
Before is the glory of all that can be.

Only your terms
Smells to me
Worse than cheese.
Done my friend.
Your worth to me
Is none.
Merry Christmas!
***** of a poem.
A personal gift to me!

Rich in form
Rare in color
Radiant
Moves from warm inside
Covering all with sweet blind
Amber tones embrace
Arching in the Air
Wicked thoughts die
Weakness takes the place
Deep breath
Sleeping sighs

Love the deep of night;
Moon's full light streaming on the earth;
Guide me in my thoughts;
Pull me in the tide.
Lift me from my sad norm
To happy freedom
Of reckless dancing delight
In Moon's glow.

Water poured throughout the house;
You said I put you in the attic;
No rest all night;
I saved the goldens;
I swam to save the best;
You couldn't rest
As I collected the family
Pulling them from the depths
of flooding waters.
Yet we live in the woods.
There is no rain.
No water, only floods of loss
Which we fight each day.
Loss of memory.
Loss of movement.
Loss of employment.
Loss of liberty.
Pouring throughout our home.
Yet we pull each other out
and move to the next level.
Trying to rise above.

Walking in bright
Glow of morning.
Feeling a gentle chill.
More red birds, new beginnings.
Last year were blue birds.
Happiness will return
With fresh start.
Quiet sleep
With fulfilling dreams
Will return.
Deep breath full
Of optimism
And renewal.
Today shines.

Each of us fills our cell
With the honey word
Imagination or real
Working to fill the nest
Building off the life collected
Humming with trial and error
Preparing this giant nest
Sharing with each other
The work we made.
Sweet, maybe deadly if too close.
Unknown workers.
Working side by side in this creation.
Unified in purpose.
Collected using smoke and mask.
To slap on biscuits and devour.

So often I repeat for emphasis
Maybe because I forgot I said it.
Can you endure the redundancy?
What bears repeating to me
May be mundane to you
It is a matter of judgment
and circumspect.
I will try to leave repeating to bears.

Walking through a forest
Large trees with faces in the trunks
Truths carved in the wood
Sun casting through the dark green
Shadows pushing back the heat
The earth dark and rich
New life trying to push through
the decaying floor
Secrets hidden below the brown leaves
Truth in the heart can be found
Reckoning with self and dilemma
Rotting smells rise from the floor
Trees stand above the rot in graceful stance
Showing regal in their realm ever reaching
Toward the heavens with noble bearing.

You saw, didn't you?
We weren't alone.
Just outside.
I called the cops.
Don't give me that look.
I make perfect sense.
On the camera.
Just look.
Why did they take you
in the room?
What did they say?
Don't give me that look.
I saw it all.
Its just right here.
On top the roof.
Beside the cars.
I'll try to sleep.

You made me
I made you better
You are gone
My heart cries as I dream
I miss you

Dream in the big world.
Always trying to catch up.
Falling behind with only thoughts.
Never independent.
Not part of this.
Flights into the abandoned areas of the mind.
Not belonging but never knowing it.
Choosing a path because it exists.
Could happen to anyone.
Yet it happens to her.

He kissed her cheek first
Because he thought the other
Would not notice.
She gave her the better gift
Because she thought the other
Would not notice.
The other would not notice
Because the other granted love
Without condition.
The other did not notice.
But after the other was gone,
the hearts of the children hurt
Because they remembered
Their choices and wished that
Once they had kissed the other first
and given the other a gift of equal value.
The other had no memory
Yet a memory lingered.

Miserable with snot
Eyes rolling with tears
With no emotion just water.
My nose is full as if I had
a good cry without cause.
My throat itches with abuse
of rough useless coughs.
Next week good health will
feel refreshing as I am freed
from this bitter fight with cold.
Don't stand near!
Oh, I know you wouldn't dare.
You are phobic of snot.
Me, too.
I oozes all the time.
I long for next week like a new love.

The invite opens
For those who are young.
Please RSVP.
Youth without a guest.
Youth without a guess.
Occasion arises.
Warm fate stands ready.
Welcome for those
Who accept.
No going back,
only forward.
Table of options,
Accept the consequences.
Warm fate serves youth.

All watched as I answered;
They thought they knew;
It was the New Year;
The special call;
I cradled the phone
with both hands to my ear;
Caller who loved me;
They assumed it was one;
But it was the other.
The other who held me
More dear in his heart
Who could not be near;
The one who was supposed to call
Never called that New Year.
I kept the secret to myself.
I gave the one credit.
I kept the other to myself.
My parallel life smoothed past.

Icy breath escapes his mouth;
No warmth found;
Only cold, dense words,
That make the heart hurt;
The chilled wind cuts not as bad.
Hope it hurts him to say
those things.
Even if it is just the cold wind,
chilling his lungs and beating heart
as he opens his mouth.
Don't be that way.
But so it is,
A chill, for a chill.

Upon a knee,
With open heart,
Promise to never part;
Yet there is a part;
A silent hurt;
A shame to hide;
A thought to fear;
So it goes;
Never known;
The doubt that pinches;
An oval cut.
Choked with love;
Left unsaid.
Blind happy eyes.
Warm embrace.
Silence best
For unkind past.

Not sure what you expected.
Promises made, never lived.
Tell me who I was to you.
Was I just a mirror?
A reflection of your fascination
with your own thought of self.
The glory of you.
Salt air has tarnished my metal.
Your reflection no longer shows.

Black wood cook stove
Lit with kindling;
In the corner of the house;
Warm dry heat;
Smutting up throughout;
Smell of char and cedar;
Just obstacle to the toddler
Reaching for wants.
Seared flesh.
Confusing pain.
Just her arm, not her face.
No scars remain.
The stove long gone.
Cold lonesome house
still smells of smoke.