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Each moment ever Mysterious, unfolding Magical, unknown. 
Written in response to One Single Impression’s prompt “beginning”; thanks to Leo of I Rhyme Without Reason for this week’s prompt. Shuffle on over to OSI for more great poems related to beginning.
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Torn to tiny shreds My neurotic cocoon of Fear, once beloved, yields.
Written in response to One Single Impression’s prompt “cocoon”. Thanks to Tammy Lee of Beauty Flows for this prompt. Flutter on over to OSI for more great responses to this prompt.
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The brittle brown edges disintegrate with movement
Yet, I will not stop moving.
The years may make me fragile
But the remnants find a way to coalesce
And so I persevere.
The preponderance of emotion as I age,
Is longing,
Monotonous slow aches
That painfully stretch into wanting.
You see, they are at war;
Emotional missiles lobbed between desire and trust,
A turmoil that rarely finds a truce.
I turn so that the wind of those projectiles
Is at my back
And all I can see is Now.
Technorati Tags: edges,movement,remnants,preponderance,emotion,missiles,turmoil,truce
My contribution to One Single Impression’s weekly prompt was preponderance this week. Thank you to our hosts, Andree and Sandy at OSI and to all the writers who so skillfully craft words into pictures, emotions and truths there every week.
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As if on new wings
Found as the cage door opens,
I celebrate You.
***Written in response to the prompt “overt” at One Single Impression. Thanks to JP for this week’s prompt. Fly on over to OSI for more vibrant responses to this prompt.***
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 Like the river I’ve written of before, the sea leaves me with the same message, day after day. That message is, “I go on”.
Just as I wake each morning to see the river’s currents still moving toward the ocean, instant by instant, hour by hour, day by day, year by year, so the waves break on the rocky coast and so the tides come and go in that same steadfastness. They wait for no instruction, they do not THINK their way to the shore, they are not stumped by suffering or indecision in what comes next…they just “are” and in BEING they do what comes next without thought. It seems the same for the gulls, who attentively float the winds dashing for the next mussel they spy. Do they think before they dive or do they dive of instinct, I think the latter. Then they use the rocks to hold their lunch while their beaks crush shells eager for tender bellies.   You may see ochre here amidst the bleached white, slate gray and wet sand but mostly the seaweed is picked clean of all the nutrients that can be used to support the life around it. And so I SEE the teaching here, as everywhere, my suffering and resulting ululations come from thinking, predicting and expecting when all I really need is just to BE because what comes next appears as mystery, ever interwoven and amidst this consciousness, yet unknown to me until ripened and revealed. And revealed it is! Glowing with a grace-filled, hallowed light and full of LOVE bringing bliss and contentment unmatched by any turn of will I might perceive I’ve ever accomplished in this life. Just as the river runs and the waves hit the shore, it comes to those who can find moments of STILLNESS, still enough to BE… (Written in response to One Single Impression’s prompt “ochre” supplied by Nothing Hypothetical, thanks NH! Stroll on over to OSI for more great responses to this week’s prompt.)
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In that instant That twilight Between dreary sky and Dreary sky’s first rain drop falling; In that instant That twilight Between just dirt and Dirt birthing life in glorious green; In that instant That twilight Between you alone and me alone And the recognition that we are One, Ahhh….the dawn. Written in response to the prompt “dawn” at One Single Impression, thanks to Leo from I Rhyme Without Reason for this week’s prompt. Go on over to OSI and crack open more great writes on the prompt.
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Is it the fox in the night I fear, A stealthy marauder who defeats the maze? Then again, what is threatened That I strive to encase? When is the absence of nothing abandonment? How high the walls Of my self-imposed oubliette. How stale the air I fight against releasing. Written in response to One Single Impression’s prompt oubliette, thanks to Kuyerjudd of My Dreams Up Close for the prompt, whip on over to OSI to find more fascinating takes on the prompt.
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When I fly in my dreams I am always so thrilled, there’s a few seconds where I am truly THERE! Fully OPEN, flying high and in awe of it all. Though usually indoors, I sometimes fly right through walls, and occasionally get through an outside wall to observe the bulbous earth below. But, after those first few seconds of awe, I start to become aware of my self, my small self and then I feel pride in that small self. Pride that I am flying, something no other human has ever done and once the pride starts, like Icarus, I am lost because my mind takes over where my consciousness once held me, ever present, in just one moment flying to another, and when my mind says “I am flying” I forget that I am the awareness itself, as are you, and you, and you. We all fly when as one until we think we are separate and special; it is then we crash to earth. It happens every time in my dreams. Written in response to the prompt Icarus at One Single Impression, fly on over for more great, creative play with Icarus. Thanks to Titanium from Element 22 for the prompt.
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“You shouldn’t have been afraid. You’ll never lose me. Love doesn’t work that way. It goes on forever.”
Iris Johansen as Eve Duncan in “Eight Days to Live”
Mature love, transcendent love, BIG love.
The love of self, while loving all beings, knowing the connectedness in a much bigger, wider picture of all that is.
The love of one for another that lifts the two up, gives them light and perspective to see beyond that one other
To all the others that are not really other but self, just as different cells of the organism are self though it may be hard to perceive a brain neuron as self while you are a heart muscle cell.
This is the Love that never waivers, never dips, is never lost, that goes on forever.
I am so thankful to the teachers who shared of themselves to pull me up to be able to feel this deep, whole knowing of this Love.
Written in response to the prompt “love” at One Single Impression, thank you to Cassiopeia Rises for this prompt. Float on over to OSI to read more thoughts and perspectives on love.
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Every day I
See more clearly
From my perch
Atop the river.
I watch its
Constant motion
Ever flowing,
Truly, never done.
Some days I float too
Buoyed by peace and
Directed by confidence.
Other days I imagine a
Deep, dark, dungeon;
A current
Pulling me under.
The pulsing pressure
Gives the illusion of
Potential breath
That never comes.
Then I know
I am lost.
Not a lost soul
But a loving soul lost
In the world of mind,
Ego,
Story…
Written for the prompt “floating” at One Single Impression, take your inner tube and float on over there for great poems. Thanks to Loch Rob for this week’s prompt.
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There will be no trembling here.
This soft membrane’s stillness is vulnerable;
Like an exposed underbelly with no defenses.
It has come under attack by forces far removed
Nameless, faceless forces
That threaten with stormy, capsizing seas.
But I let the threat be closer than it had to be
I failed to find the inner strength to reach
And so Love slips away
And suffering is heaped again
Upon a foundation of human frailty
And unmet expectations.
Once more we find diverging paths:
We might startle awake when our fingertips graze as we pull apart.
This week’s creative reaction to the prompt at One Single Impression, trembling, thanks to Nancy Bea Miller at Genre Cookshop for this prompt and please stop by OSI and check out other great creations!
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The beauty of your voice Paints a breath-taking portrait Yet remains an enigma Clawing at my gut, Knocking on my heart, Beckoning my soul to follow those notes Into you. 
I’m still thinking of Betty Buckley, and other amazing singers who touch us so deeply with their art and their gifts. Written in response to the prompt “enigma” at One Single Impression spring on over there for more great interpretations of this prompt.
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My mind with your eyes Your mind with my eyes Cracking open a fissure Between the ego and the self; Until I know not where I begin ….or never end. 
Written in response to this week’s prompt “fissures” at One Single Impression, visit OSI for more amazing takes on this prompt.
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Bend, OR was lucky enough to host a performance by Tony award winning singer and actress Betty Buckley at the Tower Theatre tonight. 
The really phenomenal thing was that I was smart enough to go and get a ticket at the door! I had a big crush on Betty when she was the sweet, soft-spoken stepmother on Eight is Enough in the late 70’s early 80’s, (I crushed on Lani O’Grady too! or maybe I wanted Betty to be my Mom and I had a crush on Lani, oh, hell! I’m too old to remember). I knew Betty was famous for CATS but had no idea how many Broadway shows she had done and what an accomplished singer she is. This evening the audience enjoyed many amazing songs along with funny stories and memories from Ms. Buckley, I was very glad I decided to be there. And though the mask of age distorts the face I remember from way back when, the voice is just as vital, strong and heroic moving me to tears more than once and I fell in love all over again. Thank you, BB for following your bliss all those years ago and for continuing to believe that you have amazing gifts to give! (Written in response to the prompt ‘mask’ over at One Single Impression, wander over there for more inspired musings on the prompt)
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