A meager end of one’s desires
Helpless, falls within the fires
Softly heard the silent pleas
For targets reached with greater ease.
Bemoan the loss of relinquished goals
That lay defeated upon the coals
As sparks take flight and seconds clash
They cruelly wither and turn to ash.
Rising yet above the flame
Release of who or what to blame
To plant again a seed accrued
From hopes of life and dreams renewed.
-CDW
via Meager
cartoon and photoshop by CD-W
Bada Assa Glam-ma
didn’t strive for eli-gance.
Why bother with the hoo-pla
when she came by it per chance?
photoshopped by CDW
via Elegance
I will gorge myself with feathers
to be light upon my feet
as I traipse across the foothills
shaking every paw I meet
I will stroke the furs with touches
soft and kind will be my voice
as I offer safety, comfort
and a reason to rejoice
But one specific fellow waits
to be uncaged, set free
my precious friend, I’ll be there soon
both rescued, you and me.
For my sweet Cole – a mini-Aussie current with his vaccines – who was sent to quarantine for nipping the Fed-Ex man on our property.
via Gorge
She puzzled and puzzled till her puzzler was sore
She walked down the hallway and opened the door
And to her amazement guess what she saw?
The sky? The trees? No, not that at all!
But pieces of colors all shades and all hues
obstructing her vision but changing her views.
For the pieces together were so snuggly fit
that the light in her brain was instantly lit.
Nothing to ponder and nothing to question
No one’s advice and no ones’ suggestions.
The pieces together had finished their quest
so now she could sit down and quietly rest.
Art and poem by CD-W (thanks for the inspiration, Dr. Seuss)
The years are not your gremlins
but merely passing times
so spend them wisely
grow and learn
and feel each day divine
via Gremlins
Oh the sisters of mercy,
they are not departed or gone.
They were waiting for me
when I thought that I just can’t go on.
And they brought me their comfort
and later they brought me this song.
Oh I hope you run into them,
you who’ve been travelling so long.
Yes you who must leave everything
that you cannot control.
It begins with your family,
but soon it comes around to your soul.
Well I’ve been where you’re hanging,
I think I can see how you’re pinned:
When you’re not feeling holy,
your loneliness says that you’ve sinned.
Well they lay down beside me,
I made my confession to them.
They touched both my eyes
and I touched the dew on their hem.
If your life is a leaf
that the seasons tear off and condemn
They will bind you with love
that is graceful and green as a stem.
When I left they were sleeping,
I hope you run into them soon.
Don’t turn on the lights,
you can read their address by the moon.
And you won’t make me jealous
if I hear that they sweetened your night:
We weren’t lovers like that
and besides it would still be all right,
We weren’t lovers like that
and besides it would still be all right.
–beautifully written by Leonard Cohen
via Mercy
The plainest coat
of thinnest twine
divinest in
these troubled times.
The finest suit
on vainest man
with meanest tone
once business man.
The sanest folk
with honest speech
truthful, earnest
are best to teach
via Nest
My legs move fast
my feet still remember
Mama ran away.
The Charleston ends
my feet, still
I plunk a new recording on Victor Victrola
plant the needle in the grove
turn the crank.
My feet move again
green and yellow squares of rug
melt together
I spin, braid pinging from one shoulder
to the next
like two different suitors
tapping my shoulder
asking to be my dance partner.
Like a wild mushroom,
my skirt puffs
the swoosh of movement says,
“Everything will be alright again.”
I squint to believe.
photo credit
via Mushroom
In the arms of a rope:
I”d tether to the glory
of lily fields and daffodils
on wings of whip-poor-wills in flight
toward the moon’s calm light
I’d gather all the wisdom known
with loosened knots, embrace the thoughts
allowing plots of greater good
to be my livelihood
You, untangled chord of strength
the sturdy twine so blessed mine
a lifeline, filled with hope
this dreamer’s periscope
Photo credit and: “The metaphysicians, theologists and even the modern psycho-analysts, have been long using it – the imagery of swing, for defining the wanderings of self and a vacillating, wavering or indecisive mind, and aestheticians, poets and painters …”
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 