A morning where a
darkness reigns throughout the land
and yet there is a wind that blows,
a return of sweetness and decency
mayhaps.
A morning where a
bowl of oatmeal upon worn table sits
and brown sugar swirls in dreamy paths,
a return to first love and hopes fairest
maybe.
A morning where a
moonlit herald sings in quiet wonder
and I hear a call to that far country,
a return to truest tales of yore
perhaps.
Tag: creative
First Blush
A mount untraveled,
a tree not blooming,
a flag yet unfurled,
and the sweet colour
of the pale of dawn.
I look upon a crescent moon
and I sigh
in unbridled wonder
that there could be such
beauty.
And behold
tulips blossoming in purest white,
stars singing sweet and strong in dazzling night,
fields of wheat rippling in warm sunlight,
that music bliss and those blue eyes bright
oh behold!
Beauty
that there could be such
in unbridled joy now
and I sigh –
I look upon a waxing moon.
The path is winding through the wild moors,
The trees stand tall and kiss their brethren,
And upon the terrace of brick and stone,
look and behold the aching sweetness –
oh the tale of dawn.
Unwilling
Dirty feet and
dirty floors,
See how all the
filthy money pours
across counter-tops and
tables stained,
not a cent is clean
or rightly gained.
Who dares overturn
our ways,
crack the whip
and halt our days?
Who dares let his eyes
grow sharp in rage
Who dares shout aloud
and then say,
This was to be a house for prayer,
but upon this holy ground
your dirty feet quick into wickedness
have trod;
This was to be a house of love,
but upon the poor and weak
your dirty feet quick and merciless
have trod;
This was to be a house for peace
but now comes near a sword and flames,
oh how I weep,
return, return,
come nigh to God.
The Ceaseless Sound of Rain
Oh hello there my darling,
Didn’t expect to see you today
Didn’t expect to smell your perfume
Didn’t expect to feel your gaze
And now my thoughts are wandering
Yeah my heart is pondering
And I’m truly wondering
What is that which binds us?
What is that which keeps us close?
What is that which twines our dreamscapes?
What is that which holds us close?
I thought you’d had your fill of me
God knows I had my fill of you
Yet you walk into my coffee shop
Just as if you were meaning to
Your lips open and say hello
My hand tightens on my coffee cup
And I give some blithe rejoinder
That my mind blankly summons up
But if you look into my eyes, my darling
You may just notice a shade of fear
I don’t know if I can take this
I don’t know, I truly don’t, my dear.
And so our words do dance in tandem
And so our eyes do dance uncertain
While my heart begins to tremble
Oh love, no need to dissemble
Remember those sweet days of autumn?
When we talked all day
And yes danced all night
And you wore that plaid shirt just for me?
I remember, oh I remember
I wish I don’t.
So now my thoughts are wandering
Yeah my heart is pondering
And I’m truly wondering
What is that which binds us?
What is that which keeps us close?
What is that which twines our dreamscapes?
What is that which holds us close?
Don’t think I don’t still love you, my darling
Don’t think I don’t still miss your sunny smile,
Yet now I just can’t talk and be all normal.
Someday, maybe, but for now,
Farewell.
Orange Shades
A needle scratches
vinyl, loss of notes so warm,
a needle patches
ripped spot in his jeans well worn.
He smooths that charismatic carpet
and so
he crooks his elbow in sympathy
just so
and rests his head upon it
like so
and he ponders the stars
dancing across his eyelids
for so
he knows
a secret.
Away spins the music down the
alleyways of his most treasured
memories
and yeah,
away spins his boot across the
vinyl, floor masquerading as
polished wood
and yeah,
away spins his thoughts upon
the streets of the true promised
treasuries
and yeah,
away spins the weight of glory,
away spins the long told story,
away spins the
song of stars,
a mystery unfurled.
Song of stars and stars of light – what promises do you tell this night?
Remind me dear and draw me near – what sweet mysteries will blaze to life?
Veil of linen and veil of stars,
one to herald, one to hide!
One proclaiming and one declaiming,
One no longer shines with light.
One veil yet whispers, whispers
Whispers to that wistful sight.
The needle trembles, I stir,
Awake my soul.
Carpet smooth under my head,
Be still my soul.
Away spins the long promised song,
Arise my soul,
For so
I do desire a better country
Just so.
Just so.
Stradivari
Good morning, friends!! I’m about to head out for coffee times with Natalie, but thought I’d say hi, since it’s been a little while! And apparently I was trying to write a short story last time I was online – found the below excerpt saved as a draft. Really not much to it, but thought I’d leave it here for posterity(and in case it jump-starts my muse!).
I’ve had a delightful morning thus far…got to sleep in(to 7:30!!), then had my breakfast of coffee and toast while getting some solid reading done. Haggai is a very fascinating OT book, one that looks with grief into the past…and with bright hope for the future. Love it. Can’t wait for the day where the whole of the heavens and the earth acknowledge the name and glory of the Lord our God. Amen and Amen!! Next will be Zechariah. Almost done with Old Testament…so sad. Except not really, because that just means I get to start in Genesis again! Anyways, now I’m on my second cup of coffee, taking care of some online errands and listening to Itzhak Perlman playing Beethoven(on the big TV screen with good speakers!). Probably time to head out now though and…enjoy some more coffee with my dear friend Natalie. Peace, friends!! And enjoy below extremely random snippet.
The rain poured down, straining to be heard over the blare of the neon lights.
Rick risked a quick glance upward and was rewarded for his trouble with a splatter of water in his face from the inn’s overhang. He shook his head in annoyance and ducked back into the lobby. As he closed the door firmly, he heard the electronic chime from the front desk. The security officer masquerading as the receptionist raised her eyebrow at him in silent question. He shook his head in response. No sign yet.
As Rick walked back over the well-worn linoleum of the hotel’s foyer, he scanned the room, looking for anything out of place…
Tennis Court
Softly drooping willow fronds and
lonely little gosling feathers
and a concrete bench perches
upon the brink.
Singing these songs, we wait
for a silence to break
all these words tumbling over
each other
ceaselessly.
You can say you’re sorry
and that you love me and
that everything will be all right
and I know that you’re not quite wrong
but you’re not
quite right.
So keep singing these songs
and we’ll wait
for a silence to break
all these words tumbling over
like the tapping
on our phones.
You can grab your coffee cup
and lean forward on your elbows
in that special way you do for me
and I know that you’re not quite wrong
but you’re not
quite right.
And yeah be singing those songs
and we’ll wait
for a silence to break
all these words tumbling over
in sync
like these beating hearts.
You can put your book down
and cry your tears and my honey
I know it hurts I know
and I know that you’re not quite wrong
and you’re not
quite right.
It’s alright.
It’s alright.
There’s a cold bench
somewhere
sitting atop a brink
somewhere
and goslings under willow trees
somewhere
and it’s alright.
It’s alright.
To Boldly Go
I haven’t written anything proper in a while…so I hope you don’t mind this extremely random and most weird short story.
Her eyes rested longingly on that last lonely crepe. It was sitting oh so daintily on the faux silver platter, it was adorned with the perfect amount of powdered sugar and it called her name. True, it had been sitting there for a few hours, so it surely would taste of stale flour and dried out berries, but she didn’t care. Her breakfast had been a sad half of a grapefruit. Not even the better half. She almost felt tempted to just grab the crepe and stuff it in her mouth, but then…then she’d get yelled at by the makeup artist and the director and Tom and…it just wouldn’t be worth it. Anna sighed. Sometimes being a movie star just wasn’t worth it. This was one of those times.
Of course, being a star had its perks. She didn’t have to do her own makeup, for one thing. Her outer face sat pristine, carefully plastered onto what she thought of as her “Saturday night” face. Saturday night, of course – being the only night she ever had to herself anymore. This latest shoot was a brutal, six days a week, fourteen hours a day. Saturdays were nominally off-days, but they’d been working those lately too. She still made sure to excuse herself early and make her way to her condo.
And then, for at least a few hours, she curled up in bed with a cup of cocoa, read her current fantasy novel and pretended she was a normal person. Her condo was her last remaining stronghold against the outside world. Her agent wasn’t even allowed in. Her condo was small by her peers’ standards, but it was hers. It protected her from the schemes of the paparazzi and the bloids. It sat in Los Angeles, polluted and tarnished by the city air. Yet it was hers. Sometimes she would look at her face in the mirror and wonder what others saw in her. She saw a woman that looked increasingly dirty and stretched. She’d wash her face again and again, trying to uncover the small girl that used to peer at her out of the mirror’s depths. Where did she go?
When Anna was five, she had wanted to be an astronaut, traveling to the farthest reaches of space. Her life goal was to be the first person on Mars. This was back in the days when mankind still explored space and sent out probes every few months. Nowadays, no country bothered spending money on space exploration, deeming it an “extravagant and wasteful proposition”, as the prime minister of Scotland had said in his latest rant on the floor of the UN.
Once though, Anna had dreamed of traveling in space. She had imagined braving the silent void, traveling through the vast reaches of space. And now she sat on a set in Los Angeles, filming yet another ponderous period piece. Surrounded by loud-mouthed executives and frantic cameramen and causing a mild panic every time she smiled. She was sick of it. It paid the bills.
Anna’s eyes darted toward the crepe again. She seriously wanted it. Anna sighed loudly and ran her fingers through her carefully arranged hair. Shoot would be starting soon though – once Tom got out of makeup. How it took him an hour longer to get through makeup, she had no idea…unless it had something to do with his preponderance of wrinkles.
And as her mind thought of the wrinkles on her co-star’s face, she thought back to simpler times, back before she knew what paparazzi and co-concentrators and restraining orders were. Back before she had to stare into a co-star’s face and pretend she had chemistry with him. Back when wrinkles signified wormholes in time and space….
She floated through a rusty starship corridor, her suit nearly catching on a protruding gauge. This mission was a simple one, but it would end quickly enough if she tore her suit. As Anna made her way through to the far control pod, she looked back for a second, satisfied she’d not been followed by any…unwanted presence. The silence stretched loud in her ears and she smiled as she thought of what her father would say if he could see her now. He had always told her that she’d amount to nothing more than a shiny broompusher and yet here she was, a rogue starpilot exploring a derelict freighter a hundred light years from Earth. Not too bad for a farm girl from Iowa.
Anna pushed open the last door that sat between her and the cockpit. It swung heavily, hindered by the rust that had accumulated over the centuries. And then…she forgot about the door and the rust and she forgot to think much of anything at all. The ship’s control lights were ominously lit, not dull and dead as they should have been. And there were words swift scrolling across the main console in a far-ancient language. She was not alone on this ship after all. There was an intelligence with her. A machine intelligence. She was not alone. The lights blinked at her in a mildly threatening fashion, and then her eyes glanced more closely at the computer screen. The script had changed to a more familiar one.
WHO ARE YOU TO DISTURB?
Anna reluctantly touched her fingers to the dust stained keyboard and tapped in almost-forgotten patterns.
I COME IN PEACE. I COME TO EXPLORE. I COME TO LEARN. I COME TO SEE.
YOU ARE HUMAN. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME.
I COME ALONE. I MEAN NO HARM. I COME TO SEE.
The lights of the console whirred in an almost hesitant fashion, as if the machine mind was thinking, its mind tracing long unused pathways in its circuits. New words finally flashed upon the console, slowly.
THEN SEE.
The ship began a gentle yaw to her left, showing her another portion of star studded space through the cockpit view screen. And there was a flash. Anna blinked. The sky was still full of stars. Yet, she had never seen such patterns. Before her mind could comprehend the fact that she’d traveled a thousand thousand light years in a millisecond, before it became clear that she was now stranded in deep space with a likely hostile machine intelligence as her only companion…before all that, she brought her hand up to her mouth and gasped. Stars wheeled across the sky in front of her, galaxies pinwheeling in front of her eyes. Stardust filled the void. Space was not empty here, it was heaving, full of life and beauty. Anna struggled to understand. Stars painted the canopy of space as if strewn there by a master painter. Nebulas arrayed themselves in elegant rows and began dancing to the song of the stars of heaven. Anna did not understand. There was so much beauty. Why? Anna put her hand down on the rusty computer console and sighed in longing and awe.
And then the sky crackled, softly.
“Let’s go, people!”
Anna jerked upright. Had she been…dreaming? Tom was striding toward the columned area they were scheduled to shoot their first scene, a flirty rendezvous of some sort, Anna remembered. Anna sighed. What had been in her dream? It had been…beautiful.
“We’re on a schedule,” that annoying voice barked. Carefully, Anna rose from her chair and walked towards the camera strewn pavement.
Anna set her face in the same mask that had graced a thousand magazine covers and smiled a gorgeous pink-lipped smile, casting one more look at the lonesome crepe.
Beatrice
Light of day is fading fast and
night is cold and wan
and the moon
smiles sheepishly.
Yet – bubbling vegetable stew
and soft flickering candles
and a glass of wine upon the table.
Song of day is soaring forth and
night is warm and full
and the girl
blushes radiantly.
Smoldering
A riot of watercolors
and tapestry of tears,
a whispering of smooth jazz and
a slow dance of the years.
A subtle raising of eyebrows,
and dizzy sparkling eyes,
a conversation of laughter
and a slow dance of sighs.
Sitting under maple trees
in lush autumn and
drinking tea with
purest honey and
feeling the sweet caress of wind off the sea and watching clouds dissolve in unprovoked giggles amid the rain falling from hooded eyes of
the storm
and feeling the
warm blush from
sun unveiling and
watching the stars
write a new symphony.
A soulful lilting of trumpets,
violins sing that tune,
two hands now clasped lovingly and
slow dance under the moon.