My past is but a dream. My present an insatiable appetite for life. My future pre-determined and out of sight.
Oh but to be young again, to begin again, to find me again. Who would I aspire to be?
Through the looking-glass, I see a mirror image of me. Free to be who I am with no preconceptions, expectations or promises to keep. Only a silent treasure chest of dreams only I can see. Only a panoramic view of what is the best I can be.
Perhaps, I would fly overseas and travel countries in poverty, recording adversity and atrocities.
Perhaps, I would study the stars and galaxies.
Perhaps, I would march in pride and diversity.
Perhaps, I would study archeology, geology or history.
Perhaps, I would be Simon or Garfunkel in Central Park in New York City.
Perhaps, I would sail alone on the open seas.
Perhaps, I would visit my native France and Italy.
A dream is a dream, but through the looking-glass I can see and be the best of what has made me.
I will continue to record life, love, and history through my poetry. My self-made dreams connecting in this irony.
Dedicated to: Trevor Edmund Mirassou and Brandon Timothy Borden, my sons.
Just today I put on my hearing aids and was hypnotized by the sight and sounds of the earth. I heard black birds mating calls, I heard a dribbling creek, I heard my mom call my name, I could hear her laughter. I could see like I could hear. Everything so crisp and clear. The clouds like a family of Pillsbury dough-boy’s, the cascading, hungry hawk searching for prey. The smile in my husband’s eyes.
I will recall what it felt like to be alive. To feel connected to something bigger than me. Something so unique and amazing that I don’t forget to smell the roses. To be brave and kind and rewind. Engrave the world in my mind. To feel connected mind, body and spirit is essential to my survival.
It’s time to get out of this shell, reach out and connect with the world again.
The artist strokes his canvas
His hues and tints of beauty
The orator of his creation
The perfect task of impression
Like a beam of sunlight
Glory and splendor appear
His vision is revelation
She whispers to heaven
No rainbows dampened
Young souls tossing
Planet full of color
A purple myriad
Fountain of harvest
Goodbye twilight bliss
The sound of crackling glass
Fill my eardrums and awaken me
A steamy haze beckons me
Barefoot and naked I tap-dance on bubbles
Sweet nectar fills my mouth with delight
The humid rain calms and soothes my sizzling skin
The stars are the brightest I have ever seen
The moon is tucked away in its cradle
Mother Nature has raised her hand to me
Come rain on me
A storm canvas can take you away
Thunderstorms and lightening
Tempest roaring high
Tumult of a tropic sky
Impatient as the phantom wind
The earth summons
Invisible love potion
Dare to walk in its wake
Hands in the air
Clean crisp air
I become transparent
My passion dims
The cyclone whispers
Grizzly arms athwart the sky
I am no longer a slave to society
The breeze of heaven blows
Upon my soul
This was a free write in response to Arthur Rimbaud’s Ophelia. His poem is lovely and mine does not quite do it justice.
As snow does to a fire that runs
Blue whiteOphelia floats
Mad with love as magnificent as snow
And among water lilies
Star which melts away
The wind kisses her breasts
A nest of mad kisses
Curves of her back
In each soft corner
From violet forests
His sweet brow
On the seascape
The calm black water
Black moss embroidered
Her great veils rising
Why the goldenrod stars
Love her reflection madly
The rivers are a sail
Shadow flowers with bale
A pearl sky
Good morning rooster
How do you do?
It’s the crack of dawn
You sit on your perch pride fully and woo
Standing mighty and bold you call your brood for food
Sleek and graceful you do the cockerel waltz
Strutting vaudeville statuesque
Crowing to proclaim your territory
You stand protecting your roost
Busty and brave
Watching for predators coming your way
The alpha male
Your ear lobes and crown are blood-red like a bird of paradise
Your steel beak as strong as a saw
Your feather mane chestnut drapes over your back
Your breast fuchsia and emerald quill
Your silken tail an extended fan
You run free rein on my ranch
A thousand chickens roost in my barn
You rearrange my garden while pecking for nourishment
Eating up all the insects and brown recluses in my yard
In dust you and your flock bathe
You even watch over the hens eggs
Your calls distinct and powerful
When you are still and content sweet singing rings
You are friendly to humans
And can even be domesticated
Stay here Roo
We will protect you