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hourglass

through the hourglass it falls,

the endless cycle of a love

reclining in the shade

seduced by winter dreams

til it slips back into your arms

breathing through the monologue of time

to find you

 

Song for Tom/Maya Johanna

-just breathe-

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goddess

and she opened her arms

upon a cosmic wave she released the beats of an undying heart

the ancients answered, flooding the seas with souls

life eternal from the chalice we sipped

soaking upon her soil, where blooms fused with newborn breaths

to the call of the wild we danced, we wed

as the cedars praised and anointed us with eyes to see, to be

                      to rise, to fall

to sing, to cry

                                         to laugh, to love

to whisper, to scream

                                             to learn, to teach

to share, to know

as she all the while sat in wait for us to return to her gates

feeding unto her the gifts we learned to share unto thee, an allegiance of her love an undying rite

knowing passage comes not to all that shan’t sit beneath the shade hearing the trees

yet still giving, in hopes one day we’d all see

before the bell tolled.

Ghost/Helvetesfonster

Image by Brian Kirhagis

This was solely inspired by the instrumental, Helvetesfonster, by Ghost. It’s a bit of a long digestion but if you can listen with the thoughts of life from the quiet stillness of creation to the awakening to the dance to the slowed, reserved pace and then finally to returning to the soil.

All of this flows as if dancers upon a stage, in a forest, lined with great sequoia’s and ancient oaks while mother nature’s children sit as quiet observers, when I listen to this exquisite instrumelntal.

I originally wrote this for Earth Day but with the world in such a waterfall of pain and fear right now I thought it a humble sentiment, a reminder that mother Earth shall always embrace us when we need her. We but need to have faith, trust and love and return to her all that she gives unto us unconditionally so.

 

-just breathe-

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Mackenzie Littledale – Writer: On Writing – MICROFICTION Part 1 – Prison Break

Mackenzie Littledale – Writer: On Writing – MICROFICTION Part 1 – Prison Break
— Read on mackenzielittledalewrites.blogspot.com/2020/04/on-writing-microfiction-part-1-prison.html

When your photography inspires a short story with a Thelma and Louise meets Orange is the New Black feel to it..Ms. Littledale promises a continuation soon 🤗

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HIKING THE NARROWS IN ZION NATIONAL PARK – ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW — Yvonne’s Travel Blog

If you are an outdoor enthusiast, hiking the Narrows in Zion National Park is most likely on your bucket list, and for a good reason. The Narrows, or…

HIKING THE NARROWS IN ZION NATIONAL PARK – ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW — Yvonne’s Travel Blog
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the chase: NaProWriMo

the darlings,

those little fledglings below

how they tickle my feathers,

tame my song

as earthen creatures try to plot an escape

from my fickle fancy of chase

Today’s prompt for National Poetry Writing Month was to imagine yourself an object or animal and write from their perspective. I chose a bird, full of moxy in his morning view awaiting breakfast.

Robins are always about and often as I watch from my picture window (where I captured this image) I see personalities flutter about. Some brazen, some bossy, some blending in with the leaves. Others all business while fledglings at heart give way to wing spirited games.

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wisteria:haiku

raindrops from the moon

adorning the old oak tree

violet dreams weeping

I wait for this beauty to bloom each spring and as the years grow, she becomes more and more breathtaking. Wisteria, with its striking scents of honey and vanilla (at least those are the notes I pick up), symbolizes new life, love, sensuality and expanding consciousness.

For more of my flora photography you can visit my gallery here.

 

-just breathe-

blank slate: NaPoWriMo

the stages, the ages of her wild

where blooms now carelessly blow

across this blank slate, where her childhood began where it took root to grow

where barefoot runners got tangled up in bee parades

and crepe myrtle breezes stole the show

giggling sprites in the night carrying dreams, in softest blushed glow

where farmlands had peas to be shucked

and corn stalks reached for the sky

running through the rows, chasing birds knowing she too could fly

the stages, the ages of her wild

where blooms now carelessly blow

across this blank slate, where her childhood began where it took root to grow

now gone, now quiet, stolen by careless flames

she goes back to listen, to quietly reminisce

to ghosts of a childhood, those small moments of bliss

For NaPoWriMo month where the prompt given was to create a poem with a specific place in mind, incorporating concrete details like street names, distances, types of flowers, trees etc.

I chose my childhood home that was taken by a fire. The image i captured is how the empty lot stands today. Thank you for visiting and reading and for more of my photography you can visit my gallery here.