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Sharla Shotwell Poem
High upon Barton Creek sits a sacred spot
where water falls and love presides.
Hawks glide over rocky ridges and hiddren trails
lead to rocky ledges.
Across the creek a magical gateway lies;
I will go there one day or perhaps I've already arrived.
As I sit atop this rock touching elements combined;
air - earth - fire - water.
I feel the magic come alive as
tree touches rock, rock touches water, water surrounded by air,
sun shining down. Mother Earth breathes in her beauty.
I am there breathing in with her; Mother Earth is alive as I am alive.
And, now we live together in harmony once again, hopefully,
until the end of time.
Copyright © Sharla Shotwell | Year Posted 2006
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Sharla Shotwell Poem
The Earth is alive with magic and music;
Love songs sang by creatures of night.
The Earth is alive with magic and laughter;
Comedy awaiting discovery.
The Earth is alive with magic and poetry;
Words to heal the heart.
The Earth is alive with magic and life;
Breath of all that is and never shall be.
Yes, the Earth is Alive with magic!!!!
Copyright © Sharla Shotwell | Year Posted 2006
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Sharla Shotwell Poem
Lost,
and now I find my words lost in their own formation. Thoughts and words gone
before completion, same I fear we too shall one day be.
Lingering in the nothingness that is everything and in the everything that is
nothingness.
Lost,
staring into space where planets once orbited as stars glistened.
Drifting outward toward a new darkness.
Still recovering from blackness of past
known once before the beginning.
Arriving at lands distant and unknown
bringing us ever closer to home
and the answer no one knows.
An answer someday we shall all share
upon reaching our final destination.
Copyright © Sharla Shotwell | Year Posted 2006
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Sharla Shotwell Poem
Life is like a box of crayolas at five.
Trying hard to stay inside a line defined by others;
trying hard to stay inside the line.
Too much pressure, powerful force pushing down;
I crack into pieces, fragments, pushed aside for another color
different yet the same.
Action repeat - instant re-run.
Life is like a box of crayolas,
many colors, all vulnerable to force, pressure.
Each color valuable blending difference.
Color alone beautiful;
color together special.
Life is like a box of crayolas standing by side by side,
never speaking, used by others over and over again.
Picked up to brighten day,
broken thrown away.
Life is like a box of crayolas.
One disappears, held too tight, invisible at night.
Yes, life is like a box of crayolas at five.
Freedom wanted, want denied.
Copyright © Sharla Shotwell | Year Posted 2006
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Sharla Shotwell Poem
Just as birds fly,
so too
souls of
poets and prophets,
teachers and trainers,
the learned and the unlearned.
Moving through doors
past - present - future.
Gliding as hawks do,
from one world
unto the next.
Copyright © Sharla Shotwell | Year Posted 2006
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Sharla Shotwell Poem
We read, sing, write, speak, use
one of the deadliest weapons in the World.
Sometimes unaware of the capable destruction we hold within.
Voices echo words in tones;
Edges of souls vulnerable in heart, weak in mind.
Flesh wounds heal quicker than souls damaged, troubled,
uncertain of provocation, lost in a myriad of confusion.
Bullets pierce the body.
Words pierce the heart.
Copyright © Sharla Shotwell | Year Posted 2006
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Sharla Shotwell Poem
One takes a sip,
licking lips,
licking the rim.
Tongue hot, taste flavorful;
Sliding down throat deep asks
"May I have a refill? Please."
Copyright © Sharla Shotwell | Year Posted 2006
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