17

I can't even begin to tell you what it's like

At the very age I met my groom to be

What shall I dare say?... 

Intrigue lies around the corner

Heart beating rampantly in my chest

A surge of exploding hormonal ecstasy

Panting frantically at the open door

Locked within.

Who pummeled?!

The nights of long surrendering, gone.

A mother, lonely grasping at straws to hold on 

to the last lock, the last locket. 

Curls cascading, past the frock.

 A windowpane seared upon opening. 

Popcorn tossing in the brisk wind. 

Pajama parties, searching, wondering

The last hem. 

Whom shall be beyond the very stitch? 

I've held on for dear life. 

Raised her from a filly. 

A colt. Blasting through the gate. 

I  can no longer contain. 

Youth and madness must circumvent.

Find a way to coexist. 

I'd give anything to take back the years

the locusts have stolen. 

But for now I will cherish 

Gain a new appreciation for fondness

Learn to rest my weary head 

And dream of what is never lost. 

Nothingness

For some reason I decided not to write.

There wasn't anything different about the day 

or the air.

It was an intentional decision

Poignant and from the heart. 

And I decided not to post. 

Many eyes were upon me and I responded 

To nothing no one and 

Nothingness.

Intentional 

Very intentional indeed. 

I parted a farewell

A very fond farewell.

It wasn't that I couldn't write. 

I knew there were words forming in my head. 

I just simply chose to not put them upon the paper. 

I walked alongside the ocean

And I heard the screams

Telling me to toss them in

Everyone of them

And I silently listened

To the roar and the pounding surf

And I obeyed to the christening of the folds 

And the panting of the water. 

As it beckoned me. 

I thought at that moment I would toss in the words

and I would never hear from them again. 

And peace enveloped my soul. 

Another season has passed 

And I am calling upon the words

The sensitivity

As I so keenly need to listen 

and hear them chant once more.  

What I thought I had lost

Has now remained. 

And I must tune my ear to the cry once again

The pounding of the surf

The sand beneath my feet. 

No more. 

Nothingness again is calling to me 

The Days of Hunger

 We exist in the days of hunger and revolution.

Viral expansions of those crying for morsels of warmth and justice

Tranquility yet to be mourned...

"A piece of bread would buy a bag of gold." 

Is it apocalyptic or a figment of the imagination?

Hearing what our itching ears want to hear.

Deafening and defaming the shouts of our children.

The charades continue in capitalistic

Labyrinths of humanity encircled by the mazes of our soul preoccupation.

Shall I dare ask for a crust, to dip it in the milk of mankind. 

 Gently awaiting the weeping and reaping of another, mangled in the excuses of violence and bloodshed. 

The moans of our saints lie in spattered streets while the sheets enclose the mutations.

Silence shall be broken.

We exist in the games of hunger and revolution

Silence the cries.  

Unfolding of the Journey 2012

To pluck or be planted

In the moist dry soil

Trodden

A seasoned

Time Under heaven

Through birth or death

To kill or heal

That is the question

As the dry leaves break down

Manifesting

The lack of crystals and emerald blades

Weeping will build

Upon the laughter of frowns

To mourn or dance

That is the dilemma

We shall embrace

And throw away stones together

When we refrain

We shall number the lost

Not keep

But purge

The sewn silence

The word of Love will be spoken

Not Hate

Peace

Not War

527,040

"Five hundred twenty seven thousand and forty

How will you spend them?

(Inspired by Ecclesiastes 3)

Happy New Year!

The Celebration of One's Mankind

Glistening glasses of  champagne bubbles.

Sparkling about.

Cardboard golden paper hats.

Flimsy and whimsical.

Noisemakers and tinny hollow sounds.

French Silk pie from Baker’s Square.

Shrimp and sushi as friends and family embrace.

Meaningless or mindful traditions?

Crowds packed in frigid weather just to see the crystal fall.

Another year passing.

The culmination of good and evil.

Wicked smiles and joyful grins.

Streamers floating about.

Littering the streets.

People pounding on stainless steel.

For what?!  What does it mean?!

Another year wiser?  Another year of uncertainty?

Children’s delightful laughter.

Prancing about.

Couples sharing a romantic kiss.

Others alone in an empty house.

A time for vows and resolutions.

To be fought.  To be gained.

Auld Lang Syne.

Memories fleeting by…

On long cold cobblestone streets.

And clock towers.

Ringing the chimes.

A celebration of one’s passing.

And one’s beginning.

A new start.

A fresh awakening.

A pouncing of the old ways.

Lessen the stagnancy of tomorrows.

Lost letters,

Unreturned correspondences,

Broken promises.

No longer!

New caresses.

Lighter steps.

A welcome glance and dance to the day.

A scattering and smattering of one’s thoughts and one’s dreams.

Upon the concrete walks of the morrow.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind….

( a re-posting...Happy New Year...Lorely)

Starbucks

I don’t even like coffee, not really

yet the warm confines speak to me.

They welcome my soul to a place of solace and comfort.

Sienna tones and cinnamon frothy smells

seduce me away from the daily drudge and grime.

Learning what is good, what still remains,

as this world slowly solidifies away.

Sip by sip.

Listening to the dusky sounds of Mahalia Jackson,

escaping from the harried shoppers.

Hurry, Worry, Panic, Shop!

Who has time to listen to the silver bells?

To take in the brisk air of a live nativity scene?

Christmas, what is that really?

How does a baby’s birth speak to our planet?

Who has time to listen to the baby’s cry?

To envision his sacred mother?

O Come let us adore Him…

Are we adoring Him?

Or have we become one of many who scurry past the bellowing symphony of a Holy Night?

Not even hearing it’s reverberations.

Yet everyday, opportunities await.

A cold person yearning for shelter.

A widow or widower in distress.

A child spending another night in fear.

A young man fighting his addictions.

A person looking for acceptance.

How do we break out of our warm toasty homes?

to welcome the prodigal ones?

Tis much more pleasant to sip creamy coffee and watch the world go by…..

This season may we take a moment

To hear the baby’s cry amongst the crowd, the sacred.

And stop and reflect on God’s goodness.

His first gift to mankind.

To see his face in the glistening ornaments hanging on the tree.

To pause and be thankful.

“O come let us adore Him…”

Affirmations

There shall a star from Jacob come from

and a sceptre shall rise out of Israel....

Sometimes the greatest of gifts remain untouched

remains lying in a vacant cluttered cupboard

crumbs spilling about...

The empty hollow taste,

the touch of a friend's attempt,

a glimpse of but a shadow of the past.

Our lives are filled with crumbs and palate and empty morsels

mostly given from the heart.

The question is what to do with the particles that remain.

Hide them under a bushel ?No!

Talents which lay unspoken can be brought about

just by the faint affirmation of love

Holidays escalate the clatter

the loud din which occurs in whispered corners

and kids frolicking about...

A manic pace rushes in to absolve of guilt

"This little light of mine....I'm going to let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine..."

Greatness

It was one of those mystical evenings

where it seemed the whispers of the dawn were speaking

Visions of greatness

Dance in the purple rain.

The pungent smells realize

raindrops which meld

upon glistening pavements

will find their way upon skin

Breathing in the voice

The touching of fragments.

An ordained frock

upon the shoulders

gives way to beyond the ordinary

Or does it?!

Tinkling of the ivories

bent in the wind

seeking what appears

behind the curtains

Turns into a smile

An embellished hand

begins to hear the song

to belong

to dance in the purple rain.

Twilite

The blood thirsty lurks.

Seeking around corners.

Predators oh so delicious about.

Eagle eyes changing color with the wind.

From amber to golden browns.

Tell a story of young love, everyone’s dream.

The strong in self control.

Unyielding to another’s passions and desires.

Clawed by the piercing of vultures. 

Cold and white skin embellished in crimson.

The need to get closer.

Fangs touch and break through the barriers.

Pupils dilated ready for another violent thrust.

A kill. As lust enrages within the human grip, sweat and saliva.

Enticing innocence. Coupled with the darkness.

Wanting to protect.  Wanting to torture.

The blackness engaged masked in clouds of fog and doom.

To see the glimmer of  prism sunlight glittering on the skin.

To taste the drops of frozen sweat.  Mirrors crashing.

Flying above the everglades.  The forest draws one near.

To seek the forbidden.  The lost. The committed.

A self- fulfilling legacy of destitute belonging.

Ample bosom, brunette locks, embraces the unwilling.

  The touch of bodies. Yielding.

Swollen lips.  The kiss of death.

As the blood drips. Scarlet.

The dichotomous choices of the morrow.

Ahh to hide one’s face in the shadows.

Never to have sunlight upon the skin. 

A vampire’s loss.

The beast within.

Temptation prowls about.

(To anyone who has ever dreamed of a scarlet lover...)

Happy Halloween

  

The Unencumbered Genius

Silently I wonder what it is like to lie unencumbered in a shallow grave

listening to the mind of one's genius

the cerebellum never ceasing.

T'was it all in vain?

Bringing a generation of touch.

The family mourns.

Technology slows if just for a moment.

Yet to live life fully in one's passion

not waiting for another's

claiming to find that niche

and embrace it wholeheartedly.

What did he surmise that none of us could?

Did he spend his life chasing quadruple rainbows

because he knew they existed?

Yet we must capture that first photograph to prove t'was real

In my daily life may I choose to simmer in the afterglow of one's brilliance

and never cease

chasing rainbows. 

1955-2011

It seems much like any other eve

yet there is a glimpse in the sky

a glimmer of rain and a rainbow appears

my daughter moves so majestically and gracefully

while watchful eyes from above look on...

her spirit is there

i catch just a quiver

knowing that she is silently

 beckoning to her loved ones

the young man

gallant in his 1943 plymouth

brushes into this moment

so awakened so alive

his smile reflecting

upon his silver tinged

boutonniere

stars will shine tonight

as another milestone

in a young woman's life

meets the meteor

of every little girl's

dreams

to you my jess

I wish the world. 

Fledgling

One's life to another might look

As if a dream.

The reality is the rose colored lenses

Looking at the other side of the lawn

Is just as green.

If not more.

With depth and illusion

So easy to peer through the lense

And see past  the fence.

Pink tinted and peeling.

Belly swollen and purging

With the whys and wherefores.

A different dimension

An empty nest

Lies in the awakening of another.

Yet for years.

Captured by schedules rigidly the days flounce by

While she beyond the garden

Longs for the days of young.

The pitter patter

The loud and clatter

Become swallowed up

In the solitary noise.

The Author's Voice August 2011

My apologies for neglecting this blog.  Summer has been fast and furious, and I have been enjoying time with my children while they are home from school.  I just returned from this lovely place, Sunset Beach, North Carolina, and I am heading out this week to Pennsylvania to visit family.  Writing has been on the back burner, but I'm sure it will sprout its wings once again.  To all my followers I hope you are having a fantastic summer.  I'll be in touch soon. May the lull of the oceans and the dawn of the tides speak to each of you...

Peace to you.

Lorely

Liberation

We are the divine among the divine

Lion cubs separated from the sheep

Refusing to succumb to the bleating

Somehow buying into the manifold

That we belong to a lesser god.

A different royal sanctum.

I will not bow down to the utterances

The berating and the bashing

My mane will sparkle in multi-colors

In the speckled, the matted, the unshaven

I will speak  and others will listen.

And slowly and softly

On the distant shores

I will find my roar. ..

Periphery

The spineless backbone

Of ignorance and tolerance

Lies waiting in concentric circles.

Empty air tickles an empty ear.

The meddlesome mind lost

Rustling within other's egos.

A yolk distant from the edge.

The sacred heart remains bound

With a slight tear in her eye

A passenger in a propeller

Flounces about

In paralleled frustration

Spinning a whirlwind

Of adhesives and scars.

The third wheel

Wondering when to reclaim

What was rightfully disposed

Remains on the sidelines.

The Corrupt One

Oh how the mighty has fallen.

Illinois.

A cold day in history.

Pride cometh before a plunge.

The vulture unleashes from the sky.

Finally.

One of many taken down.

Down. Down. Down.

If one could hear the blackness seething in our brains.

The overthrows.  The seductions.  The take-overs.

We would be shackled too.

What can you do for me?!

Me! Me!

After all, isn’t it always about me?!

Shaded eyes. Mirror of the soul. Full head of  painted dark hair.

Elusive. The need for power and control.

Passion.  

How many people has he trampled to get his way?!

In secret rooms.

All of the makings of desperation and disaster.

As the grey  pelts down…covering our world in gloom.

Attempting to hide the hidden.

“Your deeds done in the darkness will be exposed in the daylight.”

Angered at this deception, this fraud; yet aware…

Expletives, profanity, a definition of character of morality.

What morality?!

Where does it exist?

Those who have. Those who have not.

Who gives a damn?!

Economies are collapsing.

Children are hurting and starving, yet “Give me that Golden Parachute”

I’ll turn my blind eye…and watch another rot in the dust.

Pad my shelves. Upholster my furniture. Burn the papers and turn them into shreds.

Interior is important. Or is it exterior?

Arrogance creeping in…

Leads way to utter failure.

“Judge not, lest ye be judged.”

Blagojevich…Who will even remember how to spell his name?

“For what shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world, but loses his own soul?

“There but for the grace of God go I.”

The Damnation of Eternity

Peering through my gold rimmed spectacles

A gentle wind escapes through the panes of my office.

Entertaining thoughts which lead to doubt.

He stands accused.

Feathers blowing in the mist.

A thin wispy air.

Rosy cheeks and dimples.

A child’s innocence led by a weathered manicured hand.

To the rectory where no one sees.  No one hears.

No one whispers.

Nothing.

The task is done.

Incompletely torturing another’s soul.

For eternity.

Raging truth must be set free.

From the fires which choose to burn.

Flames flying.

An old steeple with tarnished crosses.

What is there to believe?

Where is the truth?  Wherein lies naivety?

Refusing to capture the pangs, the pain.

The psyche of one’s being.

Shall I escape from the ruins?

To other gray stagnant days.

Fog laying all about.

Attempting to consume.  To cover.

Foolishness attempts to hearken another’s vow.

At the expense of one so bright, clear and young.

Causing questions which will last throughout the centuries.

No time to ponder.  Only to walk away.

And begin again.

And doubt.

The Query

Amongst the rooftops I sit in a query

as to the meaning of life.

A lone flag rustling in the breeze

if only…it’s patriotic call.

A young woman falls

another maintains.

Symbiotic rhythms and waves,

a myriad of quandry,

listening to the quibble of far off folks.

Carolina sun upon my skin

and here I sit once again,

waiting for answers…

Realizing as each day passes,

they’re immersed within…

the very fabric of daily syncopations,

universal oneness, and

the simple, yet profound…

The query, the quandry and the quibble.

Eviction

The only thing that is certain in life is that it is hellaciously uncertain

And one must learn to live in the ebbs and flows of instability.

Ascertained by the necessity of one's belongings living in the lawn.

Dumped while scavengers peer in the windows.

A young sophomore plucked from his decade of surroundings.

Abandoned to the backwash and prompted by the maternal prescriptions.

Mother laying lifeless upon the next fix.

Enthusiastic bright smile, never questioning, always adapting to the unknown.

His name given by the forefathers a glimpse of salvation

Gone in the midst of the night of never ending goodbyes.

Pestilence

I shall choose not to be afraid

Of the arrows which pierce by day

Flying without any sense of direction

Or the deadly diseases

Which stalk in the night of darkness

Under the veil of gloom.

His armor shall be my protection

From the loss of opportunities

Surrounding the feathers

Which cover my wings.

When one entryway opens...

Another closes

Shielding us from the serpent

Detours carefully guarded

By the traps which surround

A refuge from the terrors

Which attempt to consume.

(inspired by Psalm 91, in light of our present economy)