I’ll follow the path, any path to discovery
something new
something to add to my prevailing awareness
gaining knowledge to take with me
on the next curved road
Finding a Path
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Tag Archives: poetry
Where Monsters Bake Cakes
I live where dragonflies spew tiny fire to light my non-harmful cigarettes
and grass grows blue and trees sprout leaves of fuchsia.
I live where the monsters bake cakes that, when eaten, guarantee good dreams
and snails give piggy-back rides through golden mountains.
I live where three-legged dogs drive jeeps and give free rides to the carnival
and carousel horse take breaks so you can feed them granola and honey.
I live where every living being is peculiar and wondrous, wearing their mix-matched clothing or none at all.
I live where lies that spring off tongues evaporate before they reach the air and meaningful words are collected, free for consumption.
I live where injuries and sicknesses are healed by blowing dandelion tuffs
and the only disaster is when the flavor leaves your gum.
Would you like to come for a visit?
Image credit
Patience
How I hate the passing moments
my missing Muse with no bestowments
lying in a barren field
her eyes shut tight, lips tightly sealed.
Evading me, my patience, wanes
my inspiration muscle strains
She hides between the narrow cracks
a fruitful pen now turned to wax
But who I am to rush her pace
while she attends the marketplace
of bold ideas, the fresh, the new
and delivers them in rendezvous
Hopeful
What is this master light I see
at once a flicker
now jamboree
no haze of fog
but grand and clear
Blazing, brilliant, vivid beams
could it be meant for me?
Internal Rewards
Each of my paintings is a time marked and stamped with a memory. There are so many canvases stacked in corners of my house and even the worst ones are difficult to part with. Throwing them away is like saying that moment didn’t count. But it did. The process filled me. Now, as I work on my manuscript, I visit them on occasion, blow a little dust off their corners.
Where Are You, America?
For me, and perhaps for you other Americans as well, this July 4th has been very different from all the others. I miss being able to travel from “sea to shining shore” to see fireworks, to have BBQ’s that include more family and friends. I miss the president whose mission was to unite us instead of divide us. Tonight before bed, I will watch Hamilton then clothe myself in strength and wake with the determination that America will secure for us a better tomorrow.
Unsettling In
“They settle into the seats around me
and make themselves comfortable.
They nudge, prod and poke
but I ignore them.
The memories want me
to pay them attention
to take me somewhere I’ve already been
and don’t care to go back to.
They speed me down the track
faster than this train is accustomed,
faster than I can put a stop to.”
The first memory is safe.
(Edited excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper)📕
The photo was taken a year ago during my visit to Italy.🇮🇹
I do hope, that in reality, this young woman’s memories were good ones.🙏🏽
Girl from Yonder
You know how some poems you write and look back upon you just think, “oh yeah, I remember that one,” ? I wrote The Girl from Yonder several years ago but find it to be timeless and perhaps applicable to most people at one time or the other.
Now that I’m in limbo while waiting for my editor to return my manuscript, I’m writing more poetry and digging up some of the old ones. I have taken the leap into Instagram and find that, somehow, it has pushed me into a new and different form of creativity. Now, I get to do a bit of photoshop and plunk my poetry onto images! 🙂
Don’t worry, dear Word Document. I’ll be back soon enough. 🙂
Little Me
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Cloud-Cloths
I don’t know about you, but I think we could all use a few more soft cloud-cloths these days. The rough only tumbles the soul and turns the melodies into unharmonious discord. Agree?
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 