I posted a copy of my 100 Paths to Ecstasy the other day on Facebook. I realized as I was reading through them that I haven’t done some of them and need to go back and re-do many of them. Because I had never done #33, I thought I would. The picture above shows the…
reading her my poetry about a man with a swagger ‘neath red flame chandeliers (and comparing notes) circular narratives about life and gypsies and making sense of men (and ourselves) a text to her lover in a moment of mischief fueled with red wine (and some flirting) “I think she’s trying to get me drunk,”…
My daughter, Gigi, and I read poetry to one another in the morning at breakfast. She read this one to me last week. Today, as we lay snuggled at Seward Park in Seattle, basking in the sunlight and watching it glisten on the water, I was reminded of this poem and the miracle of life…
light bursting through morning clouds an old crow flies past children’s sighs break through stillness
girls playing on a zip line the scent of clover his voice merging with sunlight
“If poetry does not come as naturally as leaves to a tree, then it better not come at all.” ~John Keats Poetry, life and love can be so easy when we allow them to be. Let’s allow it. Let’s lie in a field of buttercups watching the clouds and wiggling our toes and let the…