In Technicolor

A time so long ago,
yet the memory
in technicolor…
I want to rip the page
from my mind’s
photo album,
because my heart
was foolish
to fall for that man,
our skies different
our dreams astray,
but the heart’s pulse
beats to a tune
of its own choosing,
never inspired
by logic,
nor will it ever be
shatterproof.
But this man wasn’t
a cockroach.
I never wished
to stomp on him,
like others
who preceded.
And so, I’m grateful,
for without that page
I wouldn’t have
stumbled
upon the path
that led me
to my love at last.

Lauren Scott (c)

The Depot

Energy of
hustle and bustle
buzzes from
one table
to the next
Baristas move
like lightning
creating magic
in a mug
Legs swing
and bounce
to rock ‘n’ roll

flowing from
speakers above
Chatter and laughter

drift among
clinking glasses
Crackling flames

of reds and yellows
tango in the fire-pit,
and when he sips,
mustache catches all
prompting my imagination
to a beige caterpillar
resting on his upper lip
My chai,
sweet perfection,
like this moment with him
at the corner shop
in downtown.

Lauren Scott (c)

Whispers from the Highway

Whispers enter dreams
the endless highway calls
the golden ball soon will rise
Eagles “Take it Easy”
under bluest of skies

No one can discern what lies
beyond the other side
but adventures flow
through veins
where options open wide

The road whispers its plea
utters promises
a direction leading to peace
worries tossed to the wind
seeking sweet release

Rolling along at sixty
trees sway in the breeze
golden lupine line the lane
moving free and easy
exciting chance to entertain

Time waits for no one
don’t assume there is more
live fully before it’s taken –
past the long stretch ahead
shines a light to awaken

Whispers enter dreams
the endless highway calls
the golden ball is rising
Eagles “Take it Easy”
a call for improvising

Lauren Scott (c)
Image: Pixabay

The Mystery, Message, and Meditation

listen carefully
breathe in, breathe out, letting go
your soul will thank you

secrets ride the waves
ebbing, flowing in deep blue
we are not privy

waves carry a vast
mystery with each whisper
we may not discern

Lauren Scott (c)

California Coast, Birds, Squirrels, Trees, & Peace!

Last weekend, after attending The Quail Motorcycle Gathering in Carmel, CA (previous post), we drove the iconic 17-mile drive in Pebble Beach which was absolutely beautiful. Any view of the ocean is one where taking a zillion photos comes effortlessly. I didn’t take a zillion, but came close, so I’m including only a few here. I hope you enjoy part of Nature’s photo album.

And below is a poem I posted last year. Life is all about the beauty surrounding us, not giving those negative thoughts rent space, and breathing in the peace wherever you may find it…

Ever So Gently

Sometimes we get lost in our thoughts…
losing focus of stars shimmering above us,
the sky turning heavenly blue for our pleasure,
raindrops falling for our essential cleansing.
We tumble too deeply into the frontal lobe
allowing negative thoughts to awaken,
permitting them to throw a tantrum.

So we must remember the wind will carry
worries and doubts across rivers and oceans,
majestic trees will sway with joy, sheltering
from shadows, and light will continue to shine,
even if only a slight glimmer peeks through.
Its glow will grow ever so gently into a bright
beacon of hope rising with the golden sun
bringing the most beautiful clarity to our vision.

Lauren Scott (c) 2022 ❤️

Quails & Motorcycles!

Last weekend, we attended The Quail Motorcycle Gathering in Carmel, CA. It was held at The Quail Lodge and Golf Club, literally on the golf course. Walking around all day on the lush green grass was as comfy as footsteps on carpet. One of my husband’s hobbies is motorcycles; he’s always been the owner of one, two, or a few, and always will be. This event was for motorcycle enthusiasts to “show” their bikes as judges wearing fancy fedoras, carrying clipboards and pens, strolled around doing what they do best…judge! This event was also for motorcycle enthusiasts to attend and admire the cool bikes. But some incredible cars snuck into the show, too, not to mention, a few adorable canines.

The 250 entries spanned from the early 1900’s to current times. It was fun to see the evolution of the motorcycle design through the decades. Beverages, food, and merchandise waited at our fingertips, so once we warmed up, we indulged in a Bloody Mary and Margarita, and later for lunch, delicious tacos. Since I forgot to pack a hat, I bought a Quail Moto ball cap at the event which saved me. Country tunes and rock ‘n’ roll entertained the crowd of around 3200 people, all ages from infants to seniors. The weather was beautiful, sunny, in the mid sixties, but don’t let that moderate temperature fool you; the sun blazed at times and we were grateful for the invention of hats! So, whether you love to ride, feeling the wind in your face, or not, I hope you enjoy the photos and can appreciate the unique styles:

The photos above are of my husband on his Suzuki V-Strom in Death Valley, CA, and the two of us about to venture onto the local country roads on his Kawasaki KLR.

I hope you enjoyed the show & have a great day!
Lauren
❤️🏍🤗

Bandwidth

Sometimes, we find ourselves walking in the wrong direction at a good clip, so preoccupied that the gap in the pavement trips us, tumbling us in. Darkness seizes. Uncertainty and fear join in the huddle. Our bodies paralyzed by fear’s powerful grasp. But thoughts penetrate in the depths of our minds, how strength has always been a constant in our lives where weakness only an acquaintance. So, with great mental bandwidth, our fingers grip each little crevice of gloom like a seasoned rock climber. We move, inching upward, finding our way out as darkness begins to dim, and rays from the big golden ball in the sky warm our shoulders. We revel in our accomplishment, never again underestimating our capabilities, as we joyfully hold the future in our hands.

Enjoy your weekend, Feel empowered, and a Big Thanks to all of you for reading, liking, and commenting throughout the years.
Lauren Scott (c)
❤️
Strength photo: Google

The Old Afghan (with audio)

Each purl stitch was interlaced
with love from the touch
of her gentle hands.
She, the teacher,
me, the student,
as our bodies
sank into the big sofa
checkered in a
seventy’s palette.

For a new teen,
my love for her
went unmeasured.
Now, fully immersed
in motherhood
after three decades,
the mom role is
clear as plate glass,
how heart and mind
require flexibility
,
the juggling
of many hats.

Her wisdom mingles
with my thoughts
so often that I whisper,
“I get it, Mom.”
Teardrops of love
struggle for freedom,
grief clutches at my heart.

Autumn browns, reds,
yellows, and oranges
from that afghan
warmed memories
over the years,
but at some point,
my novice knitwork
must have slipped a stitch
because those warm shades
unraveled through the seasons,
crafting a hole in the center

that mirrors the chasm in my heart
from missing her.

Lauren Scott (c) 💗