"sedona" poems
looking at
sedona red
rock layered majesties
against bright, cerulean sky
and marshmallow clouds
droplets dripping, pecking our cheeks
sitting on
the balcony of a casita
holding hands with my peace
surrounded by forest green
and buzzing honey bees
they mingle with the flowers
and i mingle with my peace
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 1:30 AM UTC
I tromped across North America a few years back
Following the Mayan Elders
Listening to the powerful Lakota Brothers sing songs of mourning and joy
Building community
I was following a White Cherokee
We created clan
I was motivated by the teachings of the Anishinaabe
And represented Thunderbird Clan
We stopped in sacred spaces such as Serpent's Mound
And Cahokia Mounds
We peered briefly through the veil; Samhain
I followed the red path and eventually found I had always been on it
I met Hopi and Navajo elder's
And my friend Sea, a pipe carrier brewed a special tea
I was gifted tobacco that had been grown from seeds
Recovered from an iceman's medicine bag
She transmuted the ancient tobacco into a tea
By folding it into a sweetgrass and cedar brew
Sea gave it to me in a basic stainless steel carafe
Every time we drained the carafe
I refilled it and the essence was just as powerful as the previous brew
When I finally caught up with the Lakota brother's in Sedona
Their voices were raw
We all were
I shared the tea with them
So much magic on that journey
The joy on those brothers faces as the tea reached their throats
I gave them the carafe and told them
It was the gift that keeps on giving
Their thankfulness has been the gift that keeps on giving
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
the minute i felt the gentle breeze brushing against my skin from between the dusty rocks, i fell into a daze
a dream almost,
the dream where that one thing you desperately needed was in your between your fingers, begging, just aching for you to capture it
and the minute you close your fist to hold it, it vanishes - like a cloud of smoke
you awake, and all that is left is a fist clutching the sheets
gone before you could comprehend what it was
maybe it was a feeling, maybe it was the dripping beauty that saturated my thoughts every time my eyes fluttered open,
almost as if my mind didn't believe we were still there
believed that we were still dreaming
and maybe, maybe it was the idea that this was a single place in the world where i would never feel sadness.
maybe i was in love with the idea that the beauty and soft purple flowers growing out of dust could heal my worried and tired soul
when the desert sun rose on that Thursday spring morning, i brushed my teeth, and shrugged on the same shorts i had worn the entirety of the road trip
bell rock was the hike we would make
red powder built on my shoes as the wind pushed my sticky bangs around my forehead, and i stopped to look at the names, intitals and hearts scratched into the rock,
i thought about how proud the rocks must be, for people carved the letters of their name into them, just hoping, praying that a place this beautiful would remember them;
i thought, maybe they hoped that the part of them that carved their name along with their lovers would always be stuck in Sedona, smack dab in the middle of that lone desert paradise
while sitting on the top of bell rock, the red stone underneath me, cold and raw on my bare thighs
i felt the rocks speak
they told me, "do not be afraid, for i have been here before souls were poured into humans, i have lived long before you and i will live long after you, my dear; do not be afraid"
the mountains have eyes, i can sense it
they feel every snowflake wet,
and every hiking shoe dry,
loving, and embracing the beautiful home they created
and as for me, well, i wanted to be one too
i wanted to stand, and listen to the hum of the buzzing highway below,
and the hawks in the sky above
in the cool air of the desert
for the rest of eternity
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 9:51 PM UTC
That grin
enviably free of worry
should be an advertisement
for the way things ought to be.
Effusive innocence
casts itself from a
twenty year old snapshot
like juice from a fatted orange
pierced by a thumb
spitting jealous longing
on people who wear pants
giving anything in trade to
erase what they know
about growing up
to sit next to a
gleamy eyed kid
making **** prints in the earth
proudly touting a ***** nose and
Sedona sand on his Underoos.
Must we ever leave there
the paradise of naivete'
devoid of threat
absent of concern
universe of
daddy-can-whip-anyone?
Enemies do not exist
because we have not yet
learned hate.
Joy is first instinct
until we grow into fear.
The world is fig leafs and beauty
before a cynical serpent
has his way with us.
A father begs his son
"STAY THERE! STAY THERE!"
Protection is lost
outside the frame.
There's no recourse
for growing up.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
There are cannibals in my bed eating
the crumbs inside my head
the crumbs that you left
upon the ground
the things we kept
unsaid
(or said)
either way there was
no sound
entering or exiting
your lips as they danced
entirely still
wonderfully entranced
enigmatic notes struck
on the chord
of feeling and thinking
I am painfully bored
enthralled and excited
hands rolled in corridors
with tobacco droplets
and simple syrup
drowning the thought
of your features
that resemble canyons and hills
i forgot our love
is hibernating in the skin
of a tree in the mountains
outside of sedona
and i forgot the way the pinholed
stars sang to us
and i forgot the way
our hands became one
but it lingers
and it vibrates
it reminds me
of a fold in the fabric
the way it was eternal
yet fleeting
forever
but not nearly long enough
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 12:32 AM UTC
do you sense a shift
corner turn
wind bring
mary poppins
from north ancestral lands
sky-blue signals
perfect blue
blue of whale
blue in the eyes of the newborn
blue of the revolution
this morning
half moon
over the mountain
south of the peak
three clouds
thinning to two
over sedona red rock
one o so tiny cloud
has near disappeared
to blue signals
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 1:16 PM UTC
Every time I look around Sedona, Arizona
I cannot deny the existence of God.
He's helped me see the beauty in everything
& I think that is what I adore most about Him.
I see it in how the sun stretches its fingers
into every nook and cranny
the mountains try to hide.
I bet even the mountains
feel alive within the warmth
of the sun's grasp.
I hear it in the tiny pebbles rolling
downstream or down crevices
to new homes.
I see it in new beginnings.
I think I'd like to get married in Sedona
because it's the first place I've ever fallen in love with.
And the only place I still believe in beauty.
In simplicity and purity.
And in forgiveness.
It's the only place I can go to find myself
and when I sit within the valley
of two red rocked mountains
that could pass as monuments,
I feel closest to God.
And whether that is because I feel like
I'm nestled between the powerful palms
of an endearing God
or because whenever I see the sun
reflect off those red washed walls
I realize God didn't just paint these rocks for me,
they are his masterpieces as well.
Where he too can seek refuge when the rest
of the world gets a little stormy.
It is in Sedona, Arizona (population 10,000)
where I realize
I truly am made in God's image.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 12:57 PM UTC
From Austin on to Pensacola
from there I went to South Dakota
Moved on back to Arizona
Just trying to start a life
Went from Flagstaff to Daytona
then headed out just past Pamona
hung around and hit Sedona
Just trying to start a life
It didn't matter where I was
I had to move on just because
She'd find me in my dreams
I shut my eyes but couldn't sleep
Her image in my mind would creep
She'd find me in my dreams
Spent some time down in L.A.
There she was so I couldn't stay
Went and moved to Spanish Bay
But there she was again
Found a place in Monte Ray
only stayed there for a day
went down south down by Queens Cay
But, she followed me again
I shut my eyes and I did find
Her image burned into my mind
The girl was in my dreams
Although I tried to start anew
There was nothing I could say or do
And you should have heard my screams
I tried again, but had no luck
I even slept inside a truck
I woke up cuddled with a duck
And again her in my dreams
I'd been all 'round this country side
I'd walked, and flew and hitched a ride
It may be better if I died
But, I'm sure she'd find those dreams
I'm sure it didn't matter where
She didn't really care
She would always haunt my dreams
Hair so blonde and eyes of blue
I just can not get rid of you
You'll never leave my dreams
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
in the piano room
stained glass windows
fragment the oaks
i read poetry and made art
the moon was full, i let go
and you held me
before we ever did more
evening sunlight tilted on tapestries
the bedsheets
the edge of your shadow
i felt the earth spin
or i became the moon
don’t sleep,
just stay
my lingering dark
pull me under the warmth
under the warmth
under warmth
borrowed clothes
scatter the room
silhouettes with open mouth
light passing through
dance in familiar rooms
sleeping like strangers
your ghost
is holding gently
you’re from warmer places
darker memories
not in my dreams
it rained in my bed,
the sunlight was golden after.
different tongues
same rooms
my walls around your hand
a ceiling full of stitches
hands grip warm plates
because you forgot the english word for mug
silence resonates under the earth
I don’t want to be there while I’m here
feel the presence
a cadence of heartbeats
ear to the dirt
fingertips digging
until the song’s end
it rained down the hallway
the tea kettle is whistling
music in quiet
art untamed
blurred vision,
stunning delight
straight lines,
smokey light
unaltered creation
or halves of you
a rhythm of you
in pattern, texture, light;
a feeling
in shape, form, stories
unspoken in me
canvases of bedsheets
a softness of mind
places you’ve loved
and your little sisters I wish to have met
and oh,
the stars…
they’ve started talking to each other…
then,
i remembered myself. because i didn’t love you, either.
blanket of music
clouds fill the meadow
softening the line of trees
forests extend to fingers
tracing jawbones and teeth
it was music, truly
echoing aimlessly in evening light
or the pitch black night
musica de manta
les estrellas brillen para ti
the piano is gone now,
the window open to birds
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 3:58 AM UTC
In 1988 at lake murray we took a boat ride.
Our feelings we kept secret inside.
You didn't support me, you weren't by my side.
You moved away, and in 2009 you died.
I missed you & I cried.
Staying together couldn't be buyed.
Having fun without you was lied.
Divorce was a knot never untied.
A relationship that could'nt last.
Not since the curse was cast.
A love severed so fast.
Regrets & pain fill our past.
Ourselves, our lives & what made us who. Memories so far & few.
Why did you have to go to Sedona?
Why didn't you stay in California?
Instead you moved to Arizona.
I never believed you really would.
I didn't make the time I really should.
I guess we had a chance.
But it wasn't a simple dance.
At your photograph I often glance.
My thoughts of you are mostly sad.
I never really got to have you for a dad.
My past childhood makes me mad.
The few memories feel glad.
Things happen that are bad.
There's more things I wish we had.
Occasionally I get an awful feeling.
A need for a peculiar dealing.
I need closure with a sealing.
My spirit got cracked & has peeling. I guess I need soul healing. I used to have so much hope. I never could handle abandonment & cope.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 5:12 PM UTC
From the cockpit of my silver R8 convertible, I was
“Not The Doctor” on call, I drove at dusk the 89A from Sedona on my way to Flagstaff.
The failing sun brushing against the red rock was so beautiful,
As "Jagged Little Pill" blared and bounced off the canyon walls echoing “Mary Jane”
The diminishing daylight gave way to the cool of the “Perfect” night,
And the stars began their delicate lattice song of arrival,
Yet incomparable to the grandeur of the full moon
That rose in my view elevated along side of me, then "Right Through Me."
Its celestial wonder, its luminous glow, its dimpled smoothness, captivating.
Quickly reminded I was driving, my car veered to the left shoulder,
Alanis declaring "Wake Up", I corrected back on the highway.
My eyes re-fixed on that wondrous stellar promontory.
This lunar object, on which many experts claim mental unrest,
Had me "Head Over Feet" as I continued to stare, then unconsciously drool.
I fancied how it would feel to be on that great orb, then recollected, and was “Forgiven” of
My childhood wish to become an astronaut.
I could see her face laughing as she looked back past her voluptuous *** protruding out the window.
From the back seat of the Range Rover, brunette, woo-hooing her young adulthood to the world.
She was beautiful, liberated, spontaneous, uninhibited, and likely inebriated; I was infatuated.
She looked into my lustful eyes; I had one hand on the wheel and one "Hand in My Pocket"
I ruined my jeans; then chastised myself, “You Oughta Know” better.
No other night since has carried with it a moon so lovely as the one I saw that evening;
Isn't it "Ironic"
-----ChawwzyScript
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 2:17 AM UTC
Italian shores sparkling like champagne
New York streets bustling, humming my name
Sedona palms and eternal light
Lou'siana grandeur, twinkling nights
Feb 7, 2023
Feb 7, 2023 at 11:44 AM UTC