Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category

London Olympics

Tuesday, July 31st, 2012

2012

(more…)

The Faeries

Friday, December 5th, 2008

The trees began to curl into themselves

but first

color themselves in the light

of Fall colors.

The edges began to creep,

creep,

and creep further in,

and every time they did,

the Faeries,

would curl up their toes,

closer to their immortal legs,

and hide.

The ledges of time

became smaller,

the space

to hide,

smaller yet,

and the Faeries knew,

there were not too many daylight hours

left to hide.

They unfurled in the night,

becoming themselves,

unbent from the leaves,

from human eyes.

Oh,

how they thanked the darkness for the need

of most,

humans,

to sleep.

They slipped from the leaves,

stretching their limbs,

nimbly alighting hundreds of feet to the ground,

to start the next day’s work

on the century’s task.

they had agreed to.

(more later) (copyright, The Faeries, S.E.)

Scratches on the Matrix

Sunday, April 20th, 2008

Life does not stop to hold us


We only grasp

Fingernails etched

Against the matrix

of continuing energy

Sounds in the night

Friday, April 4th, 2008

You must have heard them, haven’t you?

The almost, indescribable sounds of night.

Not the ones that keep you waiting on your next breath,

the ones removed,

silent,

peacefully exhaling.

You wonder sometimes,

how it can be,

that the same darkness

can breed such separate sets of emotion,

but it happens,

doesn’t it?

Just like in the day.

I was touched this evening,

very touched,

by words in a book,

I found,

in a dollar store today.

I mean no disrespect to the author,

paying such a slight amount.

Is it an excuse that it is all the vendor asked

and I did not bargain down further?

Without further ado, I share:

“Don’t you know she is the one who came out of her mother’s womb, leaving her mother dead?

Do you know who brought her from the hospital? Her mother’s brother, who didn’t even cry that night. Not one teardrop? No.

Unknown to them, you see what they say.

Will you keep your back turned, angry and hurt? Or will you put on a smile, walk straight into their waiting arms, into their trap of pity? I don’t know.

All I know is that in this city of twelve million, if six or seven, even ten people, say words that hurt, they are a speck in the ocean. Wait for a while, the moon will slide into the right place, the clouds will gather, there will come a tide and with it a wave that will wash this speck away.”

The Blue Bedspread, by Raj Kamal Jha

I say to you then, namaste, in your deepest moments of the night, “the moon will slide into the right place.”

Letting Go

Monday, March 31st, 2008

The sweet smell of freedom

the chorus

of unrehearsed melody

Today,

I had a day “off”

I sifted through “old” writings

I sifted through “old” drawings

and

I threw them out

I feel lighter.

love within pure eyes

Thursday, January 17th, 2008

If I take a moment

And affix upon you

My battered eyes

I will not see

If I take a moment

And

Reclaim

The eyes I used

As a child

Then

I will see

You

As you

See me

 

Books, books………..muse………tag

Tuesday, January 15th, 2008

This wonderful woman, blogger, tarot girl….DoveLove.…has hit me with my ultimate enjoyment….books….

I copy here, somewhat inartfully, her post regarding tagging and books and life and love.

Let’s see what I can do…..

By Dove, www.TarotwithLove.com Found this little exercise here while blog surfing, so I thought I’d give it a go…

=====================================

01. One book that changed your life

=====================================

OK, IT’S ME HERE, S.E., ONE BOOK THAT CHANGED MY LIFE? ONE…………….OW, THAT HURTS, THERE HAVE BEEN SEVERAL HUNDRED, BUT LET ME GO WITH THE GUT…SIDDHARTHA…………..

================================================

02. One book that you’ve read more than once

============================

MORE THAN ONCE? I REALLY HATE THAT. I HAVE AN EMBARGO GOING IN THAT DIRECTION, BUT MY FIRST WOULD BE THE SAME AS NUMBER ONE: SIDDHARTHA….AND SILK AND MANY MANY BOOKS BY ELLEN GILGRIST. I’M GOING FROM THE GUT HERE, TYPOS BE DARNED.

===================================

03. One book you’d want on a desert island

==============================

ONE BOOK I WOULD WANT ON A DESERT ISLAND? THIS IS TOUGH. I TROLL THROUGH BARNES AND NOBLE AND INDEPENDENT BOOK STORES LOOKING FOR THAT TITLE AND I DON’T HAVE IT YET, I DON’T….I WOULD BE WRITING WORDS IN THE SAND, ROCKING ON MY HEELS AND PROBABLY TALKING TO THE CLOUDS CREATING MY OWN.

==================================

04. Two books that made you laugh

=================================

EASY….SOPHIA KINSELLA….SHE IS A GEM AND ALWAYS MAKES ME LAUGH AND DARN IT, SHE PUBLISHED MORE THAN TWO BOOKS.

=================================

05. One book that made you cry

=================================

ONE BOOK THAT MADE ME CRY? HALLMARK MAKES ME CRY. A PLAINTIVE BIRD ALONE ON A BRANCH MAKES ME CRY. ONE BOOK THAT MADE ME CRY…PERHAPS THE ONE I HAVEN’T PUBLISHED.

=======================================

06. One book that you wish had been written

==================================

EASY: HOW LOVE CURES ALL.

========================

07. One book that you wish had never been written

ANYTHING FOCUSING ON HATE.
======================================

===================

08. Two books you’re currently reading

HAHA: THE REINCARNATION OF EDGAR CAYCE AND THE PHARMACY OF THE SOUL.

============================

===================

09. One book you’ve been meaning to read

UM, THE BIBLE?

========================

==============================

10. Okay, I’m gonna try this taggin thing, but since I’ve been getting the number 3, I’ll do 3 🙂

===========================

Muse, CV, SurfaceEarth

ANYONE WHO WANTS TO JOIN IN. MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALWAYS. PEACE TO YOU DOVE LOVE.

==

Rain

Sunday, January 13th, 2008

It comes down now-or should I say they?

Dropping,
Washing,
Pouring,
Filtering,
The end of my day.

The resevoir of sound
Coats and soothes
This otherwise me
Willing it to turn to snow.

To awake at five in the morning
Tomorrow
To rush to the window
On the tip
Of
My toes
To hold
And waiver there
Here
Peeking
Leaning
Into the glass
Of the
Next moment.

Sight

Thursday, December 27th, 2007

birdsdec2707-003.jpg

Did you ever have a moment, when you have realized, there is more than what you see?

I use the word “see” expansively.

It could be a person you are talking to, otherwise regarded as arrogant, but you sense something else beneath the surface, and then without warning, the person is there, alone with you unexpectedly, a break in a meeting, telling you about what haunts them, a bad time in life, something they don’t want repeated, but for some reason are now telling you.

It could be a busy day in an urban park when your ear picks out a violin playing from an open window nearby.

It could be the scrape of the branches against the gray sky, pieces, leaves hanging on despite the seasons. Then, a sound, a movement, the branches populated by birds you would have otherwise missed.

Perhaps this is why I often enjoy silence, in order to see.

birdsdec2707-002.jpg

Calling all writers!

Wednesday, December 26th, 2007

Updated below:  December 30, 2007

I had the great fortune of coming across a space in the blogosphere which I enjoy. Today, I began to skip around again as I have been off-line for a few days now and went back to visit this blog:

Jamaican Dawta at WordPress.

I found a wonderful inspirational page on the author’s blog rich with resources for anyone called to write or committed to writing despite the little voice in their heads. Check it out….I myself am going to print it and read again to further enjoy.

Another cool source:  over at The Wild Pomegranate, Grace tipped us off to another cool blog:  The Red Ravine.  I went over to take a look and found a separate page on the blog regarding writing practices.  Looks great.  Take a moment and check it out.

Peace!

Poetry, Writings and Rambling Thought

Thursday, December 20th, 2007

The following is an assortment of stream of consciousness writing. Some of it is old. All is unfinished. I’m just wandering through pages of writing. Maybe it was Grace finding her meditation draft book, or Sorrow 11, and her beautiful fridge, maybe it was the sheer tenacity of MotherWinterMoon or the brave heart of Ruby, maybe it is the absence of Ronnie and Mystery’s voices or the sweet sincerity of ToBeMe….but I wandered through small pages of my writing, small unfinished thoughts and leave them here this evening as a tribute to your own.

May the Divine bless you.

Peace.

 

Thoughts on another Day (July 7, 2007)(07-07-07)

 

I wonder

as I meet myself on paper

thinking of the days

which I perceive

to start so early

so unrelenting.

The morning,

the Sun hung oddly in the sky

the glare

the impact

the weight

stark.

I wondered what it would be

to be wrapped in robes

trudging across a vast desert

having it as my home

easy then to believe

in a vengeful Almighty

when shade and water

would be my gold

and so often unfound

who would I be?

 

Let Me Ask

 

you,

You,

what is it,

to type from your soul,

to find,

that when you open

your eyes,

the words are gone,

disappeared,

a backstroke,

something gone awry

the words are gone

and I ask you

i plead

I beg

why?

what have any of us done

to keep the world as it is?

my children laugh,

I am like a blind man at the keys,

my head rolls,

I refuse to watch what is written,

oh yes,

I go back for typographical errors,

but not for the moments within the breath,

I don’t know you,

you don’t know me

and you wouldn’t

for the person I am

was a person trampled upon

willing always to give

to the point of self extinction

I am done

I put my hand upon the plug

to stop this mind

yet, look upon the library

I put my head down

you don’t know what

it

cost me

to earn this rug

I put my head down

 

 

 

The barriers of Saturday

Copyright 2007: S.E.

Collapse

Inverse

The colors drain into me

A vortex

Of sound and light

I am color

I am words

I am what I was at the beginning

And what I was at the end

I am the moments in between

I type in a fashion

That if anyone were to see

They would be so confused

I can only hear the words

See them in blank

Close my eyes and let my

Fingers decide

What is it for a soul to fly

Within this earthly existence

What is it

What is it

What is it

There is a place removed

We all know

The touch on the shoulder

Thought you heard a sound

The flash of light

Or darkness

In the corner of your eye

A military tanker banked

And flew

As if on a human road

I lifted the fingers to my forehead

Salute

I don’t agree with war

I don’t judge the soldiers

I live within

And without

I am what you call here and not here

I am within you

All of you

Tilt your head

Turn it to the sky

Hear the birds

They are actually speaking

Have you forgotten the language

Watch a bird

If you approach

Still

It will wait for you

There is a pattern to the morning

To the Seasons

To Spring

Why we go so many years without

Listening

Seeing

Hearing

Smelling

Tasting

The avenues of us

Why

We

Go

Why

We go

Why we go

Because we do

It has been

And

So

It

Shall

be

 

 

 

 

 

 

Enter: S.E., copyright, 2007

Enter

Walk along the moss

The earth springing

Between my toes

Reborn

 

Wrapped in gauze

Is what we called it

Wound

Fresh

Air

Flowers

Roses

No tulips

 

Hair thickened

Feet bare

Clear

And bare

 

I breath

I breath

I breath

 

The oxygen has a name

When it enters my body

It is not

Just is

 

I pause

And look at the sky

I dip my fingers into the blue

I taste it

 

Smile

I light the world

 

I sit

Cross my legs

Fold unto myself

I glow

Emanate

I draw the energy of the earth

First

Asking

Bowing my head

 

Namaste

I say

To the earth

The soil

The pieces I didn’t

See before

 

The world

I sit atop

I am the woman

On the pot

Sitting

On the fountain

Of knowledge

It moves through

Me

It whistles

It gurgles

A stream

A winter thaw

Of a mountain

The cold clear

Never touched

Never?

Water

Becoming me

 

I breathe

And am graced

 

You can see me

Feel me

Unwound

my hair is in

what you think

is your wind

See

The way your car rocked

That was me

I was breathing

The lights that flicker?

It was me

Playing

Smiling and not smiling

 

We grin

The paths

The corrals

You humans

Have drawn against our creation

 

You have fenced yourselves

In

Welcome

to free will

 

 

 

Sheer Walls Copyright, 2007 Surface Earth

 

 

I have gone from you

There is silence

Space

A canyon

 

I have gone from you

And you didn’t falter

In your step

So convinced in your anger

 

You missed

The opportunity

For me

Not to go

 

I have gone from you

A bird from the North

Flying South to Sanctuary

 

I called for you

Cried for you

Screamed for you

Ceramic crashing to the ground

Did you hear me?

 

Nothing

The silence of righteousness

Of anger

Followed the shards

There on the ground

 

Left alone

Extreme emotion

Unwelcomed

Without attention

 

I have gone from you

Somewhere on the bottom of the canyon

Unable to scale the walls

I won’t come back this time

I have told you

There are no handholds

No crevices

Within which my hands or feet will fit

 

Blue: SmallThoughts on Being Woman

Copyright, SE, 2007

 

She crawled across the floor, the blue of her dress dragging onto the wood which had not been waxed in years. Her arms extended in front of her, hands clawing at the ground, then sliding to catch air.

 

They had sucked too much from her, believing she could either take it or was blind.

 

She looked toward the window sill, the worn wood, wondering if it was a dog that scratched the molding, there were claw marks darkened with age. She lifted herself with her knees drawn up beneath her, her head against the molding , chin down. Her eyes lifted through the level of the trees, looking out to the road below.

 

How many years had she sat in this position within her mind without knowing it? When did she first begin to cower and why? She was transfixed with what she did not know about herself, either what others had never told her or what she had not told herself. She rubbed the dirt from beneath her nails, she wasn’t grotesque, quite the opposite, she was told she was beautiful. Every once in a while, she would catch a glimpse of herself in a store window and be startled by her reflection, the angle of her cheek bones against the background and realize with a gasp that she was the woman reflected and she was indeed, in that moment, with that set of eyes, beautiful.

 

 

She has always been surrounded by people who tell you its black when its white.

Who are they protecting?

Certainly not her, lying through their teeth to serve their own motives. Is there a time when that is acceptable?

 

 

Pieces: Copyright 2007, surface earth

 

Broken

Pieces

Do you see

There upon the floor

Your heel grounds onto

The piece of otherwise me

 

Singing

A thousand

Hawks circling

Prey

Already dead

Or gone

 

Soundless

Yet with weight

There upon the air

Can you sense it?

My heart

Crying to you

 

Affirmation

Turned

A dead stare

Were you ever

Really there?

 

 

 

 

 

Steps

SurfaceEarth, 2006:

I feel like I’m walking in Heaven Lord

And there’s no other way to say it

I feel like I’m walking in Heaven Lord

Doesn’t matter where you put me

Where I land

Because now I get it

I see what

You have given me

And Lord

I feel like I’m walking in Heaven

I see the ceiling

In the room

Where I sit

But Lord

I hear the music that is ours

If we could but listen

I hear the sound

Of a saxophone

Wishing me a very Merry Christmas

I recall a funny card I saw the other day

“Happy Birthday to Me”

“And Oh, Merry Christmas to You”

Jesus surrounded on the front

I feel like

I’m walking in Heaven Lord

There are no lines

No forms to fill out

Which country I’ve come from

Or where I may go

I don’t need to keep up

With the Jones

Because the Jones are right here with me

I’ve got it all

You know

Right here inside of me

I feel like I’m walking in Heaven Lord

And thank you

For what you have given me

Love in the present tense

Saturday, December 15th, 2007

I am not the water.

I am not the rocks.

I am not the silt on the bottom of the bed of the creek.

I am not the edge of the creek, the moss meeting the edge of the water.

I am not the floor of the sky.

I am not the ceiling of the earth.

I am not limited

I am not defined.

I am no more not of the water and the earth and the rocks and the sky then I am of them.

I am all or I am nothing.

I am.

And so is love.

Today

Sunday, December 9th, 2007

Today

I ask

why it is

we spend

time

wondering

what anything means.

I wonder

what it is

that

makes awake each day,

knowing that we don’t know.

It

Tuesday, November 27th, 2007

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, or simply a time removed from the now we know, the humans began to be ruled by the being known as “It”.

“It” had all of the answers.

“It” determined how to live.

“It” held the power as to whether to grant or deny fevered prayers.

The people woke and worked and slept.

They managed to love, smile, cry, hug and laugh in times in between.

They didn’t notice slowly the less time spent beneath the Sun or the less time there was when they were exposed to the Sun.

They did not notice when time sped up despite what the clocks illuminated for them.

“It” on the other hand, watched everything with great mirth.  “It” sat back, hands folded on a large belly and peered beneath its folds, looking down at the “people”.

“The people have begun to ask too many questions,” said “It”.

“Give them ‘jobs'”.

“Give them ‘aspiration'”.

“Give them ‘hope'”.

Now that didn’t seem so bad, giving the people jobs, aspiration and hope.  No, not so bad at all.  The people went along with it, waking up and sinking into the parameters of their days without a thought.  Well, maybe one or two, but the rest of the words kept them so busy, they had to abandon their thoughts.

“It” chuckled, knowing it had just begun.

Shirley Maclaine, Sag-ing While Aging

Tuesday, November 13th, 2007

Well, I’m hoping this falls under the Fair Use Doctrine, I’m pretty convinced it does. So I’ll share just a quote of one of the four books I got myself today, because, to be truthful, I’m always reading more than one book at once and as many as I can get my hands on.

So without further ado, a slight excerpt, a cut-away…I give you:

As I look back over my life, as my mind wanders freely over how I’ve lived and loved and protested and questioned, I realize that aging well isn’t about the search for happiness, but more about quietly feeling content with what I’ve experienced. Loving without caring too much, you might say. And more than anything, I’ve come to appreciate the value of conflict. Everything isn’t always meant to be light and love. The dark times, the conflicts, that’s where real learning can happen.”

-Shirley MacLaine, Sage-Ing While Age-Ing; Atria Books, p. 4, copyright 2007.

Update:  November 19, 2007:  O’Reilly & Ms. MacLaine square off on this flat planet

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