As she lay in her vulnerability
She remains open to the universe

As she surrender her nakedness
She radiates to the warmth

As she engulfs in the wild
She roams, serving curiosity

As she break in the swinging tides
She soaks in abundance

As she belches the aura of the past
She sums up brilliance

As she looks up to the waning moon
She strokes her mood in tunes

She is a woman, a beauty to be felt
As she smiles out to the shores

She is the womb, an unfurling fertility
As she carries others burdens

She is the ultimate female energy
As she balances the male synergy

She is to be nurtured and loved
As she bears the fruits of earth

She is stunning with her sparkles
As without her we won’t exist

She is a lover, a mother, a sister
As we hold her womanly nature

Note: Inspired by a painting I did of a naked woman lying in repose but -looking out to the shores. What is she? What might she be thinking? *Dedicated to all the women.... the feminine energy.

I felt the sun dip down
As the moon arose
And every pale streak
Of orange purple and pink hues
Clashed through my skin
And danced in my sins

I am pale with sick desire,
  For my heart is far away
From this world's fitful fire
  And this world's waning day;
In a dream it overleaps
  A world of tedious ills
To where the sunshine sleeps
  On the everlasting hills.--
  Say the Saints: There Angels ease us
    Glorified and white.
  They say: We rest in Jesus,
    Where is not day or night.

My soul saith: I have sought
  For a home that is not gained,
I have spent yet nothing bought,
  Have laboured but not attained;
My pride strove to mount and grow,
  And hath but dwindled down;
My love sought love, and lo!
  Hath not attained its crown.--
  Say the Saints: Fresh souls increase us,
    None languish or recede.
  They say: We love our Jesus,
    And He loves us indeed.

I cannot rise above,
  I cannot rest beneath,
I cannot find out love,
  Or escape from death;
Dear hopes and joys gone by
  Still mock me with a name;
My best beloved die,
  And I cannot die with them.--
  Say the Saints: No deaths decrease us,
    Where our rest is glorious.
  They say: We live in Jesus,
    Who once died for us.

O my soul, she beats her wings
  And pants to fly away
Up to immortal things
  In the heavenly day:
Yet she flags and almost faints;
  Can such be meant for me?--
Come and see, say the Saints.
  Saith Jesus: Come and see.
  Say the Saints: His pleasures please us
    Before God and the Lamb.
  Come and ******* sweets, saith Jesus:
    Be with Me where I am.

Quote: "when I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left and could say: I used everything you gave me"

Only in my dreams
Do I encounter
Branches with real pearls
Rolling down
In a spring breeze

From the depth
Of my gut
I wish to make it real
To build it up
From whatever meets
My expectation

But then I wonder
If I make this
How real will it be?
It was not created
By the vast evolution
We have been subjected to

or was it
perhaps the fact that I'm creating it, is evolution in it's own right*

Overthinking my creative process
Killjoy.
I could draw it
And I did.
It was beautiful
Exactly like in my dream

I could build it from
A real branch
Attach pearls to it
But then would it not be
Totally kitch

Bah- kitch!

I could make it from clay
Yeah. No.
I could sing it's perfection
Maybe it sounds like
A high note
Or the piano...
Can't play the piano.
Can sing though...

Maybe!
I could wait for spring
And take a picture
Of raindrops on tree branches
But it's not the same!
Putting away my Nikon.

Maybe
I'll write a poem
About having
all the talent in the world
And not being able
To express my own imagination.

Cruel irony.

Holding his hand was like a prayer
and when we kissed I finally saw God
but no amount of getting on my knees could stop Hell from clutching it's burning hands to my throat and no volume of screaming could lead to my salvation.

I tell myself it must have been the devil telling him to love her
instead of me,  
but that won't change the fact that you never were my Heaven.

How do you put scars into words when no one even cares once they have healed?
How do you lie everyday?
How do you cry yourself to sleep?
How do you not sleep after being "miss perfect" all day?
How do you place those blades on your body?
How do you fix everyones problems but avoid your own?
How do you keep it all in?
Do you ever just wish scars would go away?
I think putting scars into words is harder than feeling the pain of it all.

In summertime, our love is charming, like roses swaying in the breeze.
In wintertime, our love is warm- the embrace from head to toe.

If skies are blue, our love must be true- two people connected as one.

When spring flowers bloom, our love is playful, like green petals on a clover.
When autumn leaves fall, our love stands tall, shining bright from day to night.

From the day we met, til the day we die, our love will continue to delight. From season to season I will love you always! My one- my only love.