It took but an instant
for her to inhabit my thoughts
and evict my sleep
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 6:00 AM UTC
A first glimpse of sun
warm to my skin after a rainy spell
That familiar slice of pie
the best ever tasted
A shared moment
to reside within me forever
So that glimpse
that touch
that taste
that moment
renders my heart flooded
my flesh replenished
And I am left
grateful
Jul 23, 2019
Jul 23, 2019 at 7:22 PM UTC
we are all different
yet striving to be the same
such a sad predicament
causing so much pain
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 9:21 PM UTC
I love the sound
of warm sunshine!
Closing my eyes,
I make the sounds mine.
The sunny day sounds;
so beautiful to hear.
Bees humming dutifully -
far and near.
Other small creatures
are heard everywhere,
in the muffled ambience
of lukewarm air.
I so enjoy listening
to the clear blue sky,
and the few puffy clouds
drifting lazily by.
I hear all the magnificent
hues of blue;
reminding me of memories
created with you.
When listening closely
to the rustling trees;
I can differ the sounds
of all kinds of leaves.
Insects doing their magic
down on the pond,
Flying about in circles
like magic wands.
I hear the salty scent
of nearby seas,
brought here just for me
by a mellow slow breeze.
These are the days
that keep me alive,
as do the others -
when I hear myself strive.
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 5:11 AM UTC
Life must go on,
and strives to do so.
Tho mine shall end,
I did my part in prevailing it;
In this I am content
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 5:09 PM UTC
Not mine, but truly beautiful - and exactly how I believe things should be - not only love - but life, work, self-esteem, everything.
"Dear Human: You’ve got it all wrong. You didn’t come here to master unconditional love. That is where you came from and where you’ll return. You came here to learn personal love. Universal love. Messy love. Sweaty love. Crazy love. Broken love. Whole love. Infused with divinity. Lived through the grace of stumbling. Demonstrated through the beauty of… messing up. Often. You didn’t come here to be perfect. You already are. You came here to be gorgeously human. Flawed and fabulous. And then to rise again into remembering. But unconditional love? Stop telling that story. Love, in truth, doesn’t need ANY other adjectives. It doesn’t require modifiers. It doesn’t require the condition of perfection. It only asks that you show up. And do your best. That you stay present and feel fully. That you shine and fly and laugh and cry and hurt and heal and fall and get back up and play and work and live and die as YOU. It’s enough. It’s Plenty."
-Courtney A. Walsh
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 7:46 AM UTC
To all ye friends,
both young and old;
May soon some warmth
replace the cold.
May this last year be
the worst we ever had.
May cheerful tidings
replace all the sad.
From all of us here
with the loudest cheer:
The very best wishes
of a happy new year!
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 7:43 AM UTC
I stood flat-footed upon an eroding hill
Here the sweet peas, on tip-toe for a fight
With wing of coarsest black o'er delicate night
And spiteful fingers grasping at all beauty
To bind us all in deeds unworthy
Oh, toxic wind and fertile rain
Disperse the fragrance of this pain
In healing gardens root a seed
Sprout the bliss we sorely need
This tiny pulse of life we hold
Thrives in soil tilled with love
And tender vines create a bower
Of sweet pea tended, brought to flower
I stand bare foot on an erupting volcanic mount
Here the sweet peas, on tip toe for a flight
With wing of justice verity o’er delicate sight
And nails that compassionately snowball serenity
To bind us all with concord and altruism
Oh, acidic rain share the tears
Wash thy tainted eye-sight
Then crux us in the high-yield land
As we germinate to heaven’s height
The seed so robust and fertile
A shell encased with human forms
The greenness of reflected sextile
Oh Sweet pea, our mirrored storm
*Inspired by a stanza from Keats' poem:
I stood tip-toe upon a little hill
Here are sweet peas, on tip-toe for a flight:
With wing of gentle flush o’er delicate white,
And taper fingers catching at all things,
To bind them all about with tiny rings."*
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 7:04 PM UTC
The purpose of dreams is to inspire -
inspiration for direction and aim.
They are meant to become memories,
and not to remain
in vain.
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 4:13 AM UTC