Happy or sad,
That's all there is
in a country song --
Can all life experiences
be filtered down to this?

We can get too complex
sometimes, in claiming our condition,
We are masters, yes, of our own destiny
And of course, retribution --

The song 'Time After Time' echoes across my mind --
Flashes of memories past;
Healing hopeful,
Love lost.
Dreams have become endangered species in my mind.
What does come of them?
Moment of happiness —
A lifetime of longing…
But, the alternative:
Time after time.

Many years ago,
I purchased my first,
Orange lipstick —
Usually, I am quite sombre,
Wearing beige, white, or black,
So I figured ‘orange’ would set me apart and be quite a lick!

It has thus led me —
Into coveting an orange jacket,
which I'm now wearing,
And buying an orange handbag.
I now see brands picking up the mantle
Of the orange love they're now sharing.

Autumn is the best season,
For featuring orange in its design,
I love the turn of leaves
But hate the rake of time!
The colour is also featured in the TV show:
‘Orange is the new black’ (OITNB)
I sure won't be breaking and entering
To wear orange on my back —

I discover,
Ground coffee beans
All around my pad, under and over.
My bookshelf, my wine bar,
my kitchen bench, and in places I'm yet to uncover —
No matter how much I clean, they still appear
Much to my utter
Disbelief. Do I give up coffee for the sake of a pristine keepsake?
Or do I embrace the daily grind’s remnants as part of my life’s clutter?!

The sense of ‘arriving’ seemed elusive,
Nonsensical even —
As if the destination seemed further and further,
Always unattainable —
But when I change the lens of my perspective
From outwards to inwards
Reorienting —
I arrive at my story;
The broken edges,
The pains and losses,
The shame —
But also the victories
And monumental decisions that I've made,
To come home —
To me.

As an adult, when the rain comes,
Inside beckons, but
As a child, splashing on scooters
In puddles delight, ruts
And all!

Hot days,

Dry grass,

Turn on the sprinklers,

Tarty tunes and shake that ***...

Over and over, over and over, over and over again.
Over and over, over and over, over and over again.
That’s what it takes, that’s what creativity takes, but it also gives immeasurably more. So, try,
Over and over, over and over again.
It’s worth it, you’re worth it.
Over and over again.

Someone whom you can trust
And depend,
Someone whom you will love
Until the very end.

I feel like I'm in a season of drought,

Mirroring my environment, water without —

Where the poems used to spring forth,

Now have run out.

I keep going back over archived poems;
Where the themes spill abundance
And Your goodness told —

Inspiring:

I will not lose hope;

I will not give up!

I will keep mucking about
Searching for a rhyme.

Holy Spirit, may you send your love down through me to others,
And turn words into wine —

the nook of her back
elicits sensations in me
exhilarating;
greater than a drop of espresso
or crack,
I am alive with desire, free —

but will I step forth
and meet she?

I don't know what you expect —
If you're demanding me to reciprocate,
Obliterating my freedom, then you extract
All the foundations of connection,
The thresholds of compassion,
All the holdings of collaboration,

Leaving nothing but a series of construction.

When is the dead of winter;
Is there an exact time?
All winter feels deadly cold to me —