small stones – March 17, 2016

 

“Renewed” Haibun

And so I do this. Strip off the layers of filth that clog my pores each and every day from the hatred, bigotry and self-righteous indignation. I take brush in hand and scrub and scrub until I bleed. Rub myself raw to give back to the Earth each cell of my being. Wrap myself in cold water, a shock back to reality. I am not the master here. I am merely Earth’s servant. As each lie I tell myself washes down the drain, I become renewed, rejuvenated and memory resurfaces. I am peace. I am love. I am.

from this earth I came
a babe of ignorant shame
to earth I return

to earth I return
renewed, rejuvenated
peaceful lamb once more

©2016 Lori Carlson. All rights reserved.

 

snippets: how warm and cold supper can be

Beautifully penned. A sweet poem about love, relationships, and food.
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image: the vegetable gardener

the water in the pot, as it began to boil,

beat out a percussion tune

windows began to steam and frost ferns grew

soon smell of parsnips and turnip swirled round the wood stove

pedestrian potatoes felt steam bath too

scraps of rinds scrapped off to the compost bucket

knife, hands and wrists resting from the vegetable wars

struggle to contain root veggies to cookable chunks

set table with favourites:

chipped but cherished square pottery plate beautifully made as a long ago love gift

mismatched real silverware discovered in yard sales and buried in back yards

crystal wine glass, now lone of set of two

pretty iris adorned paper napkins

lid rattles, butter warms, taste buds awaken

as winter rages, root cellar feast

candles, to protect against the storm-enforced darkness

make all seem like someone sits across the table

smiling, clinking glasses and saying:

“I love rutabagas…

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small stones – March 1, 2016

as warmth returns
and Spring awakens
I am reminded:
check your seeds

Will I be planting
seeds of compassion
love and kindness
or seeds of hate
deceit and ignorance?

which garden
do I wish to grow?
what nourishment
do I hope to reap?

small stones – February 23, 2016

art credit: Traveler @ Zerochan.net

This life is a lay-over
a brief stop in eternity
a chance to love
meet and share
not long, lingering
a mere blip
in a spiritual journey
of the soul

Faerie Departures

An ethereal telling of sibling love…
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Richard M. Ankers - Author

Within a valley of frosted field,
where oak did twist beneath West wind,
a sea of grass did hide a prize
of fragmented Faerie Kingdoms.
A child made stumble fell and span
and in a heap did land, a wreck.
And one whom should have held her peace
not risen from that vaulted door
did so; she broke the pact, and would again.
The child who cried and spouted tears
as though in pain of anguish deep
did silence at the shimmering girl;
the one who saved her soul that day.
The mystic one made solace sweet
and swept the child away.
But o’er brow beyond clashing slopes
a brother saw his sister’s saviour.
He witnessed well the Faerie girl
with silvered wing and snowflake breath,
but chose that day to keep his peace.
N’er has a boy kept secret locked,
nor stoney silence not forgot,
as this poor boy…

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A Moment Too Late

Powerful poem about lost opportunities – amazing vivid images in this piece.
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loveletterstoaghost

I loved you
out of possibility,
out of chance
and uncoordination.

We crashed
a moment too late,
so “what ifs?”
became “should haves”
before we felt the stop,
the heart-pounding end
of the accident of us.

It’s the “too late”
that gets us,
that breathes doubts
and desires
into our lungs,
and it’s the possibility
that knocks
ten thousand cracks
into our skin,
into the facades
we so carefully crafted.

We were only
“could have been”
and that’s what kills us
every time.

~Patience

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The Halls Are Empty

Powerful, raw, the heartache of lost love so well expressed.
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loveletterstoaghost

The caverns and hallways
are empty,
voided and denied,
desolate in their vastness.

I stepped,
walked through the shards
of worlds trapped
below the floor,
and I searched
for your hands,
for that embrace
shaped like summer streets,
like ocean walkways
and backway piers.

I tested out new paths,
different roads and boulevards,
but none felt like home,
like those ten minute storms
and that late night laughter
swelling in your lungs,
bursting from lips,
the ones that devoured me
with every kiss,
every breath
gliding against my skin.

None looked with
your eyes,
your heat,
your hands.
None saw
the way you saw,
the way you’ve always
seen me.

Without you,
I’m left with
open,
agonizing
empty.

~Patience

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