time – Page 3

March 11, 2014March 31, 2014

Crimson Red Tide*

dodging raindrops as though
they were standing still
her mind drifts
like the tide
to another time
another page
in the day
of whose life
she knows

the wind carries salt spray
on the warm breeze
& it settles on skin
browned by the sun
& she watches her there
as she stands
taking it in

the ocean teeming with life
watered down crimson red
the tide restricted
of swimming
but she wades just a bit
bare feet greeting
the sticky warmth of it

the smell of salty air
weighed down
by the life seemingly
contained
abounds as though
someone cast
a large net
meant to capture…
but not long after
it is gone

Image Courtesy of Kai Schumman
http://wwwcdph.ca.gov

March 5, 2014March 5, 2014

Unaltered Moments

precious unaltered moments
the symmetry of which
never wavers
even when out of focus
as images do
in the memory of ones’ mind

laughter repeating
over and over again
& you know
it is completing
the song
the dance

colors languish
a day never to repeat
as no two are the same
because you know
in your heart of hearts
in another time
you will meet

Image Taken From The Morgue File

No two memories are the same. No two are alike. The resemblance ends with the many different people who have them, even though they might have been in the same place at the same time. What do you see, when you see a specific color, a winding road, a waterfall? What brings to your mind the smell of food cooking, bread baking? We each store our memories in different ways and our senses bring them alive each day that we live. In this way we are never really alone.

January 7, 2014

Edged In Silver*

a sliver of moon beam light
descends upon my path
edged in silver garnered
casting shadows long upon
the grass from trees & i see

it translates from this place
to yours’ a thousand miles
a tryst measured in moments
when i will see you once again
on the other side of time & smile

Image Found @ http://nature.desktopnexus.com

December 30, 2013December 30, 2013

Sunday’s Child Suspended

sunday’s child suspended
in balanced dreams
is the illusion of time
made of silk threads
strong as dovetailed beams

you see in re-claimed jars
through his eyes untold
tiger striped garden spiders
beauty of captured bees
lifes’ mystery doth unfold

sunday’s child suspended
a cocoon created of time
silk threads weaving a life
unique, tempered and bold
a blended pattern that shines

Image by Mary Corbet http://www.needlenthread.com

I have five adult children and many grandchildren but of my five, only one was born on a Sunday and my life’s love and challenge. They are all special in their own ways but Nathan is my Sunday child.

December 1, 2013

The Memory Thief

feathered cobwebs secreted
in the color of gray mist
thick as yellow turpentine
like filtered rays of sun
days longing to be kissed

light filters through
from a place called Spring
soft moments slipping away
brushing against your cheek

whispers fill the emptiness
playing amongst your dreams
settling in the hallways
hidden from sunlit streams

edges are tinged in sadness
as a funeral wreath displayed
before life was colored green
when the air was scent imbued
before time began falling away

a thief crept silently to you
as you felt a rush of air
as feathered cobwebs gathered
in the color of gray mist
now caught in memories’ lair

Photo by Karpati Gabor/Morgue File

A visit with my dad recently brought closer to home, once again, the dilemma of growing old and having memory problems. I find, at the age of 61, that I, myself, cannot remember sometimes the things I need to…that seem just out of reach. Dad was diagnosed with mild to moderate dementia and on good days, he is “spot on” as they say. But other days I can see the fog that settles in as he struggles to grasp those things that came so easily to him only a few months ago. He is in very good health and for that I am thankful but sometimes wish he was just a bit more of his old self. We have all adjusted as with time everything changes.

November 3, 2013November 3, 2013

Germantown Walnuts

walnut trees growing
in Germantown, PA
as I walked beneath
their leafy boughs
another time & space

I knew how it felt
to touch their
rough tree bark &
believed I could climb
upon a branch &
share with singing lark

for she brought them
into her kitchen
to share in baking song
& made them part & parcel
to bring us all along

her memory of growing up
as she walked
beneath their shade
baking smells embracing
in Germantown, PA

My grandmother was raised in Germantown, PA and came to live on the West Coast as a teenager. Walnut trees grow in abundance there and so using them in baking became part of her tradition. There was rarely anything that did not have them in it and her coffee table always had a variety of nuts in the shell to wait for someone to crack them open.

Image is My Art/Colored Pencil, Pastel, Digital Enhancement

July 25, 2013July 25, 2013

Flight Paths

Google Image

creation of time
runs deep
like flight paths
too deeply settled
beneath the ground
to access

but as they work their
way to the surface
we tenderly
navigate them
holding on

in an effort to soar
to take flight
once again
bringing us
closer to the sun

like tender new
shoots of life
still waiting
awash with expectation
that a new day
will begin

http://dversepoets.com/category/openlinknight/

June 3, 2013June 3, 2013

Bath Times Three

Google Image

growing up i found myself
in the tub…at the back
with sis and little brother
in front and i often

wondered…but why the fuss
with mom trying to wash us
all arms and legs and did
we really get clean but

after all, I mean, really
i was so glad when mom
finally decided i was too
big for the space i

was in and subtracted me
from the equation of
bath time times three and
i wondered why forever

until i had kids of my own
and it is so much easier
to have one bath for three
instead of a balancing act

of one, two, three and the
evening finds space for
alone time when they dream
to wonder why all the fuss

http://dversepoets.com/category/bathroom-poetry/

May 17, 2013

Like Magic

Google Image

characteristic of
none & yet
everything that is
…my muse

touches my soul
with introspective
desire like
casting spells
like magic

each word trickles
than flows like
ink drop pearls
to my pen

capturing the
essence of time
no longer
a floating tide of
black in an
inkwell

http://dversepoets.com/category/tag/velleity/

April 14, 2013May 3, 2013

Frescoes by Moonlight

Google Image

frescoes by moonlight and
who do you think you are?
michelangelo painting without
his soft plaster mixed hues
with varied colored pigments

standing amidst your
cans of spray paint beneath
the street lamps on a street
littered with bits of broken
bottles , dumpsters overflowing

pop cans and candy wrappers
as you gaze upon your creation
do you hold onto those who
created before you..van gogh,
gauguin, picasso, renoir, dali

do you think of michael and
his sistine chapel, his david
are they your collective muse…
do you hear their sighs as
you work or is it just another

tenement wall you hope to
disguise as something else…
transforming into that which
is beautiful and know it
will stand the test of time

someone else might call this
naught but graffiti, that you
deface public property but even
poverty and despair can be art
i call it frescoes by moonlight

http://dversepoets.com/category/poetic-voice/