softly drawn is dawn

Opening to green

It’s birthday time.

and, I’ve been lighting candles

with fervor

burning away what is not working

illuminating the path, to show me the way.

in response, perhaps, the years have been softening me

though, I have not directly asked for that ~

showing me, in all my wrongness, there’s one thing I have right:

my love.

my growing capacity to love.

personal love,

impersonal love,

love of thyself

love of the moment

love of fleeting passion present

love that burns through time and space, with such eternity

knowing no end can ever come of it, because it would only do it to itself, and it really wouldn’t, because it’s matured.

This is my communion, my continuity, my flame for this life. This is my time, and this is its purpose.

and, I am so sincerely present.

without a doubt, I’ve never hidden under a basket.

nor behind a cloak.

I have been the bare me all along.

I have born myself of raw flesh and spirals

I have broken skin and wishes and daydreams.

My knees have been skinned on so many near-almosts…

…absolute misses…

while

Going for it, going for it all.

and there is never a guarantee in the program

the program is not built for guarantees. The whole thing is based on risks and risk assessments.

They say that only the courageous or the stupid put it all out there.

how about the one who knows

that there’s nothing else that’s worth it. Holding back is actually the norm.

and the more i can dig in, this year and next year, and maybe more years after that,

the more dirt under my nails, the more fires smoking in my eyes, the more the holy reckoning,

the more moments of absolute REST after the sheer ‘enoughness’ of my irrevocable ALL

I know I’m living.

I’m doing it.

HBD to me.

🎉

and if I should part before too soon

or even near soon at all,

I shall know that what I’ve done here,

is really, really lived.

Poem 15 Day 15

The portal opens

To a world with tangled branches

Alive and gnarled, character-filled

some would say.

The little man runs and skips

even does back-flips as he dances

And acrobats his way to the bottom of a tree.

At the tree’s bottom a single golden ring lay

it shines so bright he covers his eyes

But the ring is a fairy in disguise

She was at tree’s bottom, root home

In the kitchen when she heard some

Polecats munching

And snickering

She came out to see what is the ruckus

When the little man was among us

And too close a call,

She rolled herself into a tiny, golden ball

That collapsed in the center

She’s lucky she didn’t get a splinter.

She moved so fast and

Sure, he did fall, as he ran toward her

He skidded to a halt

Not knowing what the light was about

He began to shout!

“Ahhh! Unseen realms do not pout!

Show me what you are all about.”

Like that she poofed out of a golden ring

And into a fairy again.

Soon she discovered this man is

Her friend.

She and he

danced around the tree’s roots,

went into the garden

and dug up some chutes

They opened the door to the fairy home

and she said, “Well this place is also good for you, Mr Gnome.”

So “Come on in,

and I’ll write you a poem.”

Excitement! Art for Art: Free Verses! — Fiesta Estrellas (DAY 1- REBLOGATHON)

Welcome to my ReBlogathon for November. This is my blog celebration of 11 years of blogging! We kick it off here, today, as DAY 1. I have also joined forces once again with the most wonderful blogging pepper group in the world: Cheer Peppers. This month we will all blog for 30 days (for me it might be even more!). For me personally, I didn't have the time for a proper celebration in March when my blog turned 11, and then I "rebirthdayed" my blog in August 2022--Now, I finally get to celebrate: That's how celebration goes: Celebrate when you CAN! 

This post is all about the publication of my first poetry book (2017)-- See the attached Reblog. At the time, I swore I would never write another. But, I think I shall 🙂

"Free verses" is a play on "free verse." It's the type of poetry that doesn't follow a format. Since my book is called "Art for Art" its only purpose is to share the heart in a format free fashion. In fact, The format is so free that it isn't even "free verse," it's "free verses." Like multiverses, universes-- the latin versus means "to turn."  So maybe my poetry took "many turns" in sharing my heart. It certainly was an exploration, one that led to the birth of my wonderful daughter. But, you'd have to read it, to know it and see that. To feel it.

It's time to GO BACK and look at things anew...

I feel immense gratitude for everyone who was with me on this book journey, all my fellow bloggers who I love and connect with. I was absolutely not alone. Michael Mark and Ra Avis were ‘beyond words’ supportive and deserve special mentions. Another poet and marvelous human Kai Coggin inspired and supported me in this endeavor, too. I hosted a poem of Kai’s way back in 2014. You must absolutely read her poetry and check out her website. This was before Kai became ‘Big Big’ and she is an educator with a heart of gold. Go find her. In the post, in the comments, I elaborate on the cover art created by artist & friend, Debbie Graul. Ironically, words can not express the importance of the birth of a book, nor what such a book could foreshadow, foretell, or clear away room for in one’s life…

Write that book! It will open you up for more 🙂

Finally, for extra credit. There’s a little “nesting doll” link for my “blog post within the blog post” if you read my original 2017 post, where I end with crickets. Can you find that post? Comment about it if you dare.

It is no surprise to me that I am hearing crickets as I type this right now…

Cover Art by Debbie Graul, Cover Design by Ka Malana Praise for Art for Art Hello dear friends & welcome new followers! I am delighted to share with you that my 1st book of poetry is published and available. It’s available immediately at the CreateSpace eStore. It’ll be able at Amazon.com in 3-5 business days (now […]

Excitement! Art for Art: Free Verses! — Fiesta Estrellas

Water-falling buckets

i am more than happy
to be a cog in this wheel
as one who passes that baton
that has already been passed
by so many of
my teammates,
to so many of my
teammates.

i don’t need to invent anything,
or repackage something else.

and i am happy to be
one who doesn’t win the race often,
or ever, but gets to
make it to the show, serendipitously
through others,
on most days. And when i don’t,
i know – that everything doesn’t rest on me.

the world will turn even without me,
but loves me anyways.

i am more than happy
to be one of this many
of this many that is one,

breathing allows me to be
a precious, tiny cog in this wheel
that turns like water-falling buckets,
yeah, that.

there’s a central axis that can’t be
pointed at.

right now there are so many baskets
opening with the harvest of
sitting dormant all through the winter;

the hardest work done,
was no work at all.