Tag Archives: Poetry

Gray Days Revisited

Gray Days Revisited

I think I’m going to start a new tradition on Word Press.

It’s obviously the beginning of November and this is the time of year when those of us who live in areas with decreasing sunshine are afflicted with Seasonal Affective Disorder.  “SAD” – what a cute acronym.

SAD has become more of an issue for me after my days spent in Arizona where there seemed to be an unlimited supply of Sunshine – even during the monsoon season.

Well, I wrote a piece about these “Gray Days” a while back, and I re-posted it last year, and so now the tradition has solidified.  This time, I’ll just put the link below (and above) as opposed to re-posting the blog.  If you have the desire to read further, click away.

If not, well you’re missing out 🙂

It crossed my mind, when I re-read my post today, that I was in a highly creative state of mind when I originally wrote it, as well as the posts surrounding that time in general.  You see, I was in love then, and the creative juices always flow more when I’m in love.

I might have been in love with a person, a place, or even a passing idea – a newly formed and beautiful image in my mind.  A dream.

But love, regardless of its source, is all powerful.  And while it’s difficult, we writers do try to express such feelings with words.

I read a great post from my blogging friend Cristian Mahai today that began with a beautiful quote from Faulkner.  Check it out for a little inspiration about the writer’s duty and about beauty.  I think this fulfills my duty for the day.  And read on, if you wish, about how even the grayest of days can be colorful and inspiring!

Here’s the link, again, to – Gray Days.

In Metta

LOGOz

Photo:  Even the most gray, rainy, and cold days can be very beautiful – like this image I captured in the Rocky Mountains.

Fugitives From Ourselves

Ozark Cabin with John Gardner Quote

Yesterday, my post was about the need to get back out into Nature to promote both our physical and mental health.  What constituted the path to true happiness.  The outward journey to inner healing.

So I felt the need to balance that today with this quote about the inward journey.  This is the toughest journey of all.  And it’s something we often try to avoid.  It can be a scary trek, but it’s also the most rewarding.  Making contact with our spiritual selves.  Without all of the distractions from the external world.

The quote is spot on.  Sometimes people lose themselves.  They become automatons.  Traversing the same trails every day.  Speaking in clichés.  Allowing platitudes to fill the mind.  Avoiding self-examination.

A little time spent in quiet meditation every day is a step to getting back in touch with our real selves.  Unplug from the technological world.  Disconnect from the external illusion and find your authentic soul.

LOGOz

Photo: I chose this pic because this isolated cabin in the Ozark mountains is a good analogy to our inner selves.  Yes, in the material world it’s an external physical structure, but it can symbolically serve to represent our inner consciousness.  Our soul.  Our particle of awareness.  Our gift from the Source.

It is surrounded by a vast external world of distraction and illusion where we often flee.

Come home and relax for a spell.  Sit by the fireplace.  Reconnect with your spiritual self.  Expand your consciousness.

I actually stayed in this little cabin a few years back.  It was a great place to get back to Nature.  Away from the frenetic pace of modernity.  And away from our self-generated hubris.  Not only a place to heal in the outdoors, but a place to make that inward journey in peace and solitude.

In Metta

The Destination Was Her

It’s hard to describe,

truly meeting someone.

When eyes open,

Hearts synch.

 

A special soul,

To embrace,

Enfold, entwine.

 

But there were many separations.

Space-time matrices to traverse,

Miles,

Life Stages.

 

Two nurturing souls.

Playful,

Understanding.

 

Horizons expanded.

A mystical wonderland.

Alive and pulsating.

An endless flood of sensation.

 

Time shared.

Bonds forged.

 

Then a withering flame.

A magical land,

Turned landscape of loneliness.

The dichotomy of dissonance.

 

Beauty everywhere.

With heart-tie gone,

There could be no gravity.

 

The mark on the map

was never the journey’s end.

The geography was never Earthbound.

The destination was her . . .

Her heart.

 

LOGOz

 

Photo: From light years ago.  A special flame.

Worlds and Eternities

Photo: Jenny Lake at Grand Teton National Park.  The Shoshones called this mountain range “Teewinot” – the many pinnacles.”

Every angle, every nuance of light and shadow, every frame in the mind’s eye – different worlds.  From the grains of sand on the shoreline, the wooded tails, the mountain peaks – all Universes within themselves.

As you look in the distance, the scene is not only majestic, it is infinite.  There are no borders, there is no time.

In fact, these are very young mountains in terms of geological time 🙂

***

 

Day Dreaming

I woke up to a chilly negative seven degrees this morning.  That cold, biting air dug into my consciousness and said, “Hey, snap out of it.”  But what was “it?”

“It” has been the brain fog I’ve been in now for over a week.

“It” has thoroughly slapped me around, kicked in my rib cage, pummeled my face, knocked me down, and thrown me off balance.

“It” has challenged my days and made it difficult to write.

Yeah, I know, excuses, excuses.  But fighting pollution has taken on a whole new meaning for me this past couple of years.  Those unseen flyspecks, minute assassins, bouncing around my home.  Laying in wait.  Invading my brain.  Committing molecular murder.

With malice aforethought, “it” extinguishes my memory.

Evil.

Industrial chemicals.  A toxic world.

How to fight back?  Drift into a day dream . . .

A deep, clear, midnight blue lake, stretching out on the horizon, lapping against the shores of lodge pole pines, mountains shadow down in the distance.  Mirror reflections.  A shimmering pool.  A sailboat to slide across this glass surface.  Sanguine, tranquil, serene.

A distant memory.  Unleashing endorphins.  Light dancing in my camera’s lens. Euphoric.

I crank up the music – Freddy Jones Band – In a Day Dream

Tuesday morning,
Never looked so good.
I’m already in,
In a daydream.

The sun is shining,
To wake me up.
No one around,
Just me and the sky.

I’m already in,
In a daydream.
I’m already in,
In a daydream.

The sky is calling,
Calling out my name.
Telling me just to stay,
Stay and don’t go away.

I’m already in,
In a daydream.
I’m already in,
In a daydream.

In a daydream…
In a daydream…
In a daydream…
Already in a daydream…

And so I begin anew, rising from the flames, oscillating between past travels, and future adventures.  The words come . . .

***

Photo: Day dreaming of the Grand Tetons.

Halcyon Days

You’ve probably heard this expression before – oh those good old “Halcyon Days.”  It’s a phrase filled with the nostalgic remembrance of the endless summer days of our youths.

But I have a few more references for you today.  The first is to an on-line publication of that same title that you really need to check out.  It is absolutely beautifully done, and I’m honored to have had one of my poems picked up in its Autumn issue – “An Oil Painting for the One I Love.

The next is to the original source of the term, which ascribes to days in the depths of winter’s grasp.

Greek legend has it that Aeolus, the ruler of the winds, had a daughter named Alcyone.  Alcyone married Ceyx, the king of Thessaly.  Ceyx suffered the fate of drowning at sea and Alcyone, in her grief, threw herself into the ocean.  But instead of drowning, she was transformed into a bird, the Halcyon, and carried to her husband by the wind.

The Halcyon was said to make a floating nest in the Aegean Sea and, while brooding her eggs, she had the power to calm the waves for fourteen days.  This would occur every year around the Winter Solstice, usually 21st or 22nd of December.  The Halcyon is now commonly linked to European Kingfisher.

As time passed, the association with the brooding time of the Halcyon faded, and the phrase was just associated with the calm days of summer, as was used by Shakespeare in Henry VI:

Assign’d am I to be the English scourge.
This night the siege assuredly I’ll raise:
Expect Saint Martin’s summer, halcyon days,
Since I have entered into these wars.

Somehow, the phrase evolved into its present meaning of those happy endless days of our youth.

So, while I’m looking back in time today, I’ll draw another reference to a few more of my past blog posts that were pleasantly, and excitedly, picked up for publication.  I haven’t reminisced like this since my post 100th!!!

The following articles and poems were picked up by The Urban Howl:

Luminous, published under the title: Release Yourself From Your Thoughts – Be Luminous & Divine.

The Bear, published under the title: Bear Wisdom – Venture, Awaken & Emerge From the Den.

Hiking Through the Rhyolite, published under the title: If Your Soul is Open, Nature’s Spirits Will Speak to You.

Monsoons and Mountains, published under the title: Surrender Control & Let The Wind Take You To A New Adventure.

And,

Torrent, published under the title: The Torrent: Facing Our Greatest Fear & Risking Living.

I hope you have many Halcyon days to remember, and maybe this year around the time of the Winter Solstice, we’ll all have some 🙂

***

Photo: I was perched in these mountains last month.  Definitely a calm and endless day of joy.

Photo Journal

If you had the chance to read my last post you probably noticed that I mentioned I was gearing up for travel again.  Consequently, I won’t always have the time I desire, at a given moment, to write out some of my stories.  At least not until I am settled long enough to hammer out some lines.

Also, there is a direct relationship, which could be graphed, between having adventures and writing about them.  Have to have them first in order to have something to write about 🙂

So I thought I would launch another category in the blog today – Photo Journal.  When I don’t quite have that next story put together, I can at least post a nice pic for the day.  Some positive energy.  Beauty without words.

I’ve noticed other blogs doing the same and they use the theme of being “Wordless.”  Makes sense and sometimes, as the old expression goes, a picture is worth a thousand words.

I have many pics of wildflowers that I haven’t had the chance to identify and this is one of them.  Maybe someday I circle back with a name for this one.  In the mean time, enjoy 🙂

Another White Flower 2

***

Photo:  While I try to use all of my own photos for all of my posts there are times that I must seek out others to match the theme, but every post in this category will be one of my own.  I took this one on the trail yesterday 🙂

 

 

Luminous

Long, white, flowing dress.

Auburn hair,

hazel eyes.

Delicately stepping into the formless haze.

Breath quickening.

Anticipating.

Each gentle, awakening nudge.

A dizzying array of silver particles streak across the gray sky.

They dance across her cheeks,

lightly brush her lips,

soak deeply into her neck,

massage the small of her back,

caress her thighs,

stroke the length of her legs.

Cleansing, freeing.

Releasing her from her thoughts.

Her dress now clinging tightly,

taking her form.

Smooth and streaming.

A walking sculpture.

Luminous and divine.

***

 

Woman Rain 3 + Resized+Crop

Photo:  I found this photo on the Internet in the public domain.  I could find no further attribution for it.

Published !  Thrilled and honored that my poem was published by The Urban Howl on August 16, 2018, under the title “Release Yourself From Your Thoughts – Be Luminous & Devine.

Have You Ever Known Someone?

To be able to complete someone’s thoughts,

dance together in their mind,

caress their heart,

and see their soul through their eyes.

This is truly knowing someone.

Have you ever known someone?

 

Painted Ladies

***

Feature Photo: I found this photo on the Internet in the public domain. I could find no proper attribution for it.

Butterfly Photo: A couple of Painted Lady butterflies nectaring-up in the Midwest.  I added the butterfly image for a couple of reasons.  One is that is shows a “couple” like the feature image and duality is the theme.  But intertwined duality – two becoming one.

With duality, we’ve moved beyond a singularity.  It is the quality of having two parts to the whole.  Metaphysically speaking, it is the contrasts – negative versus positive; good versus evil; light versus dark; material versus spiritual; consciousness versus unconsciousness; Ying versus Yang; male versus female.

Numerologically speaking, the number 2 represents feminine, dreams and cooperation.

The butterflies, symbolically, represent transition, shapeshifting, and the dance of joy.

When two hearts come together as one the polarities merge.  A beautiful transition occurs as each half brings out the beauty in the whole.  Making that true connection is a rare thing and it results in a dance of joy.  Bonds that cannot be broken.  Not over space, time, or even lifetimes.

Dreaming of You

There is a place

where I have gone

when I am dreaming.

And it has been very rare.

Where I know I am dreaming

and there is no difference

between me the dreamer

and me the dreamed.

Who is to say which is more real.

And I can choose where I wake up

in my bed

where this body is sleeping

or in the dreamscape

where I am experiencing

On that plane of existence.

And tonight

if I have that choice,

I choose to be where ever you may be

because I know

you will be in that dream

Where ever it may be . . .

***

Photo: A landscape takes on more color and becomes a dream, but the image is just as real.  It was all a matter of perception and expanding our senses.

Warrior for Love

This is one of those quotes that kind of sticks with you once you discover it.  We battle for those things with the most meaning.  We can get lost searching for them.  But it’s worth the journey to find true love.

 

Photo: Tromping around somewhere in ancient mountains.

An Oil Painting for the One I Love

Sitting in the quiet,
contemplating the nothingness that surrounds me.
Imaging a different world,
one with color, with fragrance, tasting, touching.

An oil painting for the one I love.

I see the greens, yellows, oranges, and reds of autumn.
An old farm road, slightly overgrown, bending gently with the breeze, contouring an old barn, faded wood, peeling paint.

The character of a grandfather with aged wisdom.

A Great Horned Owl sings in the distance,
a soulful melody that echoes across the nearby lake.
It repeats at a slightly higher pitch.

A pause, an answer – this one lower and softer.

The synchrony begins as they call, urgency growing.
Powerful yellow eyes take flight and the couple unites,
the tone softens, is warm, in harmony, complete . . .

***

Great Horned Owl - 6 - 25th Nov + Crop

 

Photos:  A Midwestern sunset on the fly – one-handed, while driving with the cell phone.  And a Great Horned Owl sits majestically, the master of this territory, calling to its mate.

Published !  So grateful to have had this poem picked up in the Fall Issue of Halcyon Days.  If you have haven’t seen this online magazine, you should really check it out.  It is beautifully done!