Through This Dark Earth

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Lead

and I

will follow

reluctant

my trust is

shattered

but this is

my truth

hurdling blindly

Learning as I fall

watching you

mapping new country

a bold change

courage in stepping

where comfort is

rare and chaos

is the coin of choice

Dear God

Lead Me

frightened as I am

that I may grow

struggling through this earth

a seed newly born

seeking the Son

that will nourish me

Copyright 8-19-2017 All Rights Reserved Including Angel Photo 2008 Copyright

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Patterns (Lissa, Peggy, Karen, Stevie…)

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Riding the full moon

I cannot sleep at night

3 am

and I am still

waking

automatic

decades of it

and I have often wondered

whose dreams

I am walking through

wondering aloud

I have found

my best girlfriends

do the same

the patterns repeat

at the witching hour

we laugh at our

congruity

wonder what we’re up to

the joking conjecture

of stirring up storms

and secret romance

or perhaps

its just so simple

a case of insomnia

of five women aging

but secretly

something in our eyes

the hint of a smile

we know

as creatures of the tides

we hold the world in our hands

spinning the wheel

as life goes on

LAS  Copyright 2017  All Rights Reserved

Photo Courtesy of Pixabay

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/pattern/

 

 

 

 

Transformed

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The connection

charge sparkled

between fingers

in their hair

layered on skin

the corona expanding

and he held his breath

eyes meeting

their first dance

the darkness

parting

for the first time in years

she pressed closer

to hear the song of his heart

moving to the beat

of lifetimes

found again in each others arms

LAS  copyright 2017  All Rights Reserved

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

The Spell

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No words

uttered

the smoke rises

she turns looking

at the only face

that has stayed with her

shining silver

constant

changeless over ages

she tells the moon her dreams

her wishes

shadows wait

frozen

watching

waiting to carry her love

on the wind

letters consumed

flames and wisps

smoke

and the ashes dance

lifting lightly

floating over the miles

settling light on a hand

lying in the darkness

lost in the warmth

of her dreams

swirling about him

enchanting

stirring

washing his pain away

waking to the dark

thinking

oh

thinking she was there

but the room holds

his breath alone

And she waits

as the waters mirror

that silvered face

framed by the mountains

knowing her secret

knowing her pain

shrouding her desires

as the gilt shadows

dissolve in darkness

to place a kiss

on a furrowed brow

resting restless

scented with cedar and pine

and the stirring incense

of a woman

burning bright on the shores

of a lake

miles away

stirring his heart to her

warming flames

and the moon touches the mountain

in a caress

both knowing

the moment is fleeting

but will

play over and over

in the eons of time

LAS copyright 2017 All Rights Reserved

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

 

Coyote

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I dreamt of coyote

last night

He came to me

through the opening

of a tight orange canyon

eye to eye

coyote was not laughing

and I knew this was bad

the visions came

A broken lance

“Snake Oil”

I stood on a rock in white deer skin

howling into falling snow

as horses ran

a painful lesson

of needing to

let go

LAS  copyright 2017  All Rights Reserved

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

Run Off

The snow is melting.

Riverlets run through

leaf mold and last years bent grasses,

making their way to the creek bed.

It seemed that winter’s heavy coat

would suffocate the world

in white,

encasing it in ice;

God’s world trapped in crystal.

Long nights of hushed quiet,

the snow lays in layers of days and weeks

and accumulation of dreams

and farmers hopes

to melt as time passes to Spring.

Warmth is seeding the minutes,

pushing life to the surface

for the Spring’s maiden to show her finery

of purples, emeralds, and golds.

With the blessing of water,

it will be a lush year.

LAS  2017 copyright   All Rights Reserved

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/lush/

Overworked

The colours

run

muddy

pushing limits and blend into

a ground over wet

overworked from rain

pounding in torrents

washing out the bridge

and tumbling wet clay sand

mixed with boulders onto the highway

everything seems to slip

as sequoias crack and sag

to topple over after millennia

I watch the houses in Broadmore

slide down the hillside

like children at the park

San Francisco doesn’t handle

the rain well

funneling it into the gutters

backing up onto the streets

eventually to run to the beach

as the Great Highway melts

 

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https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/overworked/

Crow Fly

Cawing on the rooftop
throwing nuts to break open
on the pavement
breaking open memories
of teenage years of
trying to sleep on a Saturday
but hoody crow would not allow it
crack
bounce
run down the roof
laughter at their own antics
pissing me off
at their seeming mirth
of waking me

Many years have passed
and a murder of crows
brings back longing of those days
down comforters
new records to play
waiting for the boy with the car
Brings me back to innocence
mystery
a dark mirth
waking my memories
with their laughing call
watching me with sideways glances
as they pass by
deep midnight clouds
moving off into the twilight
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Tormented Soul

I am a tormented soul

I do not stand on rock or sand

but the ever changing tides of the ocean

Battering in wounded rage against the cliffs

twinkling in lazy lapping as dolphins swim past

Never static

always straying into the the seventh wave

pounding and pulsing

throwing up past years debris and doubts

on my shores

holding tomorrows promise

in the bottle of time

LAS copyright 2016 all rights reserved

Martyr to My Heart

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Money

Possession

Power

I was taught these things

were dangerous

not what reality was made of

not to be worshipped

or bowed down to

Still the men in my life

always pushed harder

for me to make more

money

a change of position

always more

and more

and to hell with what I wanted

what did I want

money bought

a bigger house

better cars

more flash

less caring

about little things

little things

like love

warmth of a touch

a hug

watching the grandeur of a sunset

or hearing the voices of a church choir

while holding hands

with a man I love

and respect

not a man I answer to

and the time passed

my prison fast and strong

until one day

the master left

and I was free to find my own way

speak my own words

seek my own happiness

find one of my own kind

who knows

the value of life is not

Money

Possession

Power

I am a martyr to my heart

paying dearly for my beliefs

but to live for anything less

is bondage indeed

LAS copyright 2016 all rights reserved

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/martyr/