I realized this moment would come I knew the time would arrive, those hands on the clock they’re always on the move – when I had dreamed of so much more for this special minute, I have no poem…
even as I reflect while observing the hanging petunia, appealing in purple, swinging gently in the breeze or as I listen to my lab snoring softly, lying inches away, no poem has settled beside me…
even as I watch the geranium reach in its rich wine-red wardrobe for the infinite wild blue and the lemon-yellow daffodil looking dapper in its shamrock finery, no poem has greeted me with a tender embrace.
I fear that as this moment journeys into the next, and the sun bids farewell, allowing the moon to play her part, and those dedicated hands continue to circle and mystify, my pen will lie dry as a desert riverbed, my paper bare as a wall without photos.
Still, I will remain empty handed without poetry to enrich my soul, but tomorrow when the sun ascends and the sky unfolds to new possibilities, it will be then when I shall try again.
A collection of poems that speaks of nature’s healing touch, howlove shapes our lives, and the mysteries of life. Click on the image to purchase your copy. Thank you! 💚
A collection of poems about nature, love, and the mysteries of life. Click on the image to purchase your copy. Thank you! 💚
Thank you for dropping in and I wish you a Terrific Tuesday! Lauren ❤️ Photo by samer daboul on Pexels.com My camera never does justice for moon shots, so I chose to enjoy the moment.
Stones of burdens can seem like pebbles barely tripping us up in our routines, but sometimes, they’re boulder massive, sliding us deeply into our heads when the need to escape from our own selves becomes vital for our sanity
we pause in our footsteps, holding our breath, fighting tears pushing as fiercely as a category five
but then our eyes look out the window following sunlight, focusing on the frost hanging on tips of tree branches as though adorned by sparkling jewels
they wink at us and those boulders shrink to pebbles with the sweetness of air, we inhale new life burdens we exhale, so we can breathe in miracles surrounding us – in those who hold our hearts, in every sight, every bloom, every sound…
I walk through the front door, and with each step, a memory embraces me like a warm hug of sweet nostalgia, chatter and laughter echo in my mind leading me to the framed photos on the ivory walls that come to life – savory and sweet aromas whirled from kitchen to living room enticing palates, the television stayed on for background noise (when back then, streaming brought only thoughts of calm, flowing water) the vision of mom’s lovely smile, the music of dad’s chuckle, what I would give for another moment to be with them – the enchantment of seven grandchildren running around wearing huge smiles, their giggles following their footsteps – before the lawn was laid and array of blooms were planted and the concrete basketball court was poured, nothing but earth in the backyard – she’d relax on the chaise beside the new pool a million laps later, the turquoise still glimmers – fond memories of those chapters stay cozy in the walls in the cracks and crevices over the passing of time among the fleeting minutes… I step through the door, and it feels like home.
Valentine’s Day makes me think about people who are less fortunate. This day that is meant for romance and candy hearts sends my mind to the same place it travels to on Thanksgiving and Christmas. So, this poem is the result…
Candy hearts say Be Mine Red roses represent forever Fancy dinners for two in love A lifetime of together…
Ahh, the joy… but my thoughts drift to the old man on Anderson Drive who wears his gray hair long, surrounded by treasures divine, and sits outside his raggedy, faded blue tent that balances on damaged poles, an office of esteem used to house the chair that wobbles beneath his body of bones
and I wonder about the young woman on Lincoln Avenue who burrows into a weathered, pea-green bag on the old bus stop bench – the scratched enclosure keeps her dry when raindrops fall on cue, buses pass by, heading to their next hub by the curb lies an old shoe
and the poor mutt curled up beside his master, ribs defined – who doesn’t know why he only gets crumbs to lick up from the unwashed hand, but no leash keeps him bound – he knows not of despair, but loyalty he comprehends
So, I browse over the valleys of my pondering and wonder, do your thoughts also drift to defeated souls where hopelessness betrays faith, where life has taken a toll? Where is their place on this Valentine’s Day?
A collection of poems about nature, love, and the mysteries of life. Click on the image to purchase your copy. Thank you! 💚
I wish Love would abound for Everyoneduring this Valentine’s Week. You see, as the years pass by, I view this special day not only for romantic love, but for feeling thankful for all the people in my life who love me and whom I love with all my heart.
A few days ago, a friend of mine surprised me with flowers and a card with such beautiful and thoughtful sentiments. I was truly touched, and the first thing that came to mind was gratitude…for so many things in my life. So, I’m sharing the flowers with you today and a poem from one of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver. Her words will give you something to think about…
The Summer Day
Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean – the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down – who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. I don’t know exactly what a prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day. Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
Thank you again for all the love, hugs, and prayers. Please know that your kindness means a lot to me. The pain has either been silent or less intense this week; it’s so unpredictable, but I’m starting treatment soon, so I pray it will make a big difference.
Happy Friday, and I wish you a wonderful weekend ahead!There is no way to go but forward!
I had every intention to read blogs this past weekend, to ‘get caught up’ as we all say often. But last week I received a new diagnosis and the symptoms decided to bark loudly instead over the weekend. Concentration was far from reachable, but I took advantage of moments when the symptoms rested, and that’s when I put thoughts to paper in my journal. Please know that my transparency is not for sympathy. If you recall, I shared about a health issue that began last year, well, this is new, but the doctor thinks it’s all connected – ten months later, the big picture has changed. So, below is my catharsis in the form of a haibun (or similar to one with an extra haiku):
Compromised
The rain and wind collaborate for a stormy Sunday. I look through the window, a deluge of raindrops plummet to the street and lawns, and the tall oaks and firs bend unnaturally. Inside, the house feels safe and warm, but this new presence feels like a knife in the gut. What used to be an infrequent timeline is now an everyday visit. What used to be mild is now moderate, or sometimes, severe. A relationship I don’t care to nurture. Pain closes in, becoming more intimate, but not the intimacy that makes my heart skip a beat. No, this type, and where it could lead, paralyzes because fear sidles up beside it. A duo not to be reckoned with. Cancer hasn’t knocked on my door, nor has a death sentence. But the ability to walk long distances or hike on a mountain trail, slips through my fingers like tiny grains of sand.
My body feels broken – not fully – but broken – because my feet and legs take the brunt. I miss the ‘me’ I used to be. And then there is sleep, or lack thereof because of throbbing and/or electric shocks, thieves in the night that rob me of those dream-filled deep slumbers. The persistence is like a doorbell gone wild. Negative thoughts push their way in for the spiraling, mirroring the stormy weather, but my inhale and exhale create a brick wall – blocking them from breaking me more. Although, no easy ‘fix’ heads my way, so each day I struggle to keep hope beside me. Focus on what I can do, they say. I try. Ask questions. Get answers. My mindset waivers, but the support encircling me helps keep my sky blue.
an MRI shows narrowing from wear and tear nerves agitated
he says it’s common not comforting to body spinal stenosis
(I’m exploring all treatment options, such as injections, meds, surgery, physical therapy, etc.)
I don’t know how this week will go or how much time I’ll spend blogging, but I’m hoping for quiet nerves. The weekend was yesterday; today is a new day. I also hope to get answers to many questions this week. Please know that I appreciate you all!
Time is flying, minutes are passing by at lightning speed, the days are staying lighter a little longer, and tomorrow, Wednesday, January 31st, is the last day to vote! Again, thank you to Dagmara and her team for publishing my work. I’m honored to be nominated for this award, and to be among wonderful friends who are amazing writers! As far as I’m concerned, we’re all winners! 🎉🎉
To vote, you’ll need to log in, and I know this can be challenging. But I do appreciate your time, effort, and support! I really do! 🙏
In order to cast your vote, simply clickhere. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! ❤️
I’ll leave you with a poem from my book (the poem from which my book found its title) to guide you through today and days to come.I’ve shared it before, so enjoy for another reading!
Ever So Gently
Sometimes we get lost in our thoughts… losing focus of the stars lighting up the night sky. We tumble too deeply into the frontal lobe, allowing negative thoughts to awaken, to throw a tantrum.
Remember, the breeze carries burdens down rivers and across oceans, majestic trees sway with joy, sheltering from shadows, and the light shines even if only a slight glimmer slips through.
Its glow will grow ever so gently into a bright beacon of hope rising with the golden sun bringing clarity to our vision.
Baydreamer Writes ~ Lauren Scott, Author & Poet 