Saturday, August 24, 2013

Drifting away to Djibouti...

Dreams unrealized 
drift against green grey silk 
pillows oft cried in;
no more pulled covers over her head
while she sleeps,
as Kingdoms transition and fall -
even under the most 
abiding skies...
The good ship "false hope"
steams across safe harbor's bay;
mirages of new truths appear
o'er jeweled seas of 
love and trust,
where gossamer fork-tongued 
bridges span years of time.
Ninety degrees west of there -
floating colors in hula hand waves, 
 pinwheels of childhood,
and farther still, shorelines 
that embroider her name - places like 
Spain and Djibouti 
Upon awakening she turns and 
looks from whence 
she once came
and stares at the world anew,
 sees things no longer are the same;
finding wars she did not expect,
lies she lived in others' eyes -
feeling betrayed
Roses bearing full weight 
of droplets held that wait to 
be cried down again, 
washing away her signature
from the sands of time,
freeing her soul 
from pain

This was a fun exercise as Claudia today asked us to write about one of the paintings by 
Judith ClayBoth are from Germany and we see the fairy tale and whimsical traits they both have in their respective talents.  Read more over at

Thursday, August 22, 2013

In a small town...

After a long break from writing, instead cleaning, bending and moving, my home has sold and the mixed emotions run deep.  It was what I wanted nevertheless, but now during the closing process much more needs to be done.  Hoping to be back with my muse by Oct., I will celebrate new surroundings and join you all here again at the pub.  I know I've missed a lot of good poetry, but there has been little time for reading, believe me!

Today Brian over at has asked us to write a 55 - count them, a story in just 55 words to submit to our friend at G-Man's poetry site.  
I hope all of you are having a slow and peaceful summer,

In a small village in the mountains,
silhouetted by evening's sky,  
 dwellers work, play, pray.
Clouds cherry pink encircle peaks white, 
softly enough to touch dry a 
baby's skin after bathing.
Night falls -
 hear only lullabies of the earth,
  eyes of the night sky blink
open, closed, watching  
 o'er the tranquil town 
 slumbering with angels