Pour

Free Bing Photos

Free Bing Photos

I wait to empty as all of me pours out
Big rivers and sewer streams
Grass dew and leaky faucets
Gushing forth in love and
Madness, and still
On and on it falls
Draining darkly
Until I feel
My vastness
Running as
Clear as
A deep
Blue
Sea

Little Gem

Renaissance Sky:  Photo by Noelle

Renaissance Sky: Photo by Noelle

“If I could take all of your words away and give you but a sparse few,
they would be: I know I am absolute, I am complete, I am God I Am.
If there were no other words but these, you would no longer be limited
to this plane.” ~~ Ramtha

The Lake: Flash Non-Fiction, Episode 2

Nevada Ditch: Photo by Noelle

Nevada Ditch: Photo by Noelle

My heart, my mother’s lake. Long and slim. Fresh and dark. Bass and sunnies and tadpoles becoming frogs. She gardened here, but I dug in clay and looked for salamanders and toads. Piles of last year’s tomato plants now plowed under with muck from the lake. Good fertilizer she’d say. Full of leeches and fish poop I’d call back, tossing grasshoppers into the water that snap when the fish catch them. Honeysuckle dangled from my mouth that grows thick as thieves in the field. She chased the Canadian geese while I crawfished the stream feeders, my hand still, my breath held. Her death was like that, too. Me standing ankle deep in her sickness trying to catch her spirit as it leaped into the Great Lake. Now there is only the sunset shimmer on the water rippling in the summer breeze. Geese are gone and grass grows tall. The garden is dead but the fish still leap for water bugs that want for dragonfly wings. Iridescent blues that snap my attention from grave dirt. No lake clay here and I miss it’s pliability and the way that it shaped to my touch. Growing warmer the longer I held it. That is love. Warm the longer you hold it, which is why death beds are so cold. So I let the sun warm me before I dive deep into the murky water, letting the cold spot rack my bones.

Work in progress from the Front Range Writer’s Group: hosted. By Marj Hahne

Expansion

Re-post from Hippie Peace Freaks Facebook page

Re-post from Hippie Peace Freaks Facebook page

Large and wide as the Indian Ocean. Breaching this now moment with the grandness of orchids wild along the road to Bangkok from Phuket. Growing in vision that trips over the expected and launches the blind traveler on paths forgotten, but laden with the smell of spice lands and dark forest loam. Fuller still with promises of sparkly bangles and tea cakes and rich dark coffee. Exploding on the senses with a lover’s kiss and the freshness of new snow. A wilderness of the heart that leaps from a backyard to the Russian Steps flowing in winter wheat and endless horizons. Unstable with its possibilities of more and more and more. Chemical interactions that leave you spinning in a world of spiritual alchemy. Expansion. The hunger of the human spirit and the seed that births Universes.