At age five I like to run and play
In the light of a southern sunny day
I ate honeysuckle enjoying the taste
Playing in the dirt mud pies I baked
At 15 what matters to poetic teen
Clothes goals and fashion dreams
I was quite proud of my pop band
We wrote songs we sang we danced
At 30 what mattered to me the most
Creating better life as a mom you know
Working full time and in college too
Keeping my son in best homes and schools
And then at 50 I was confident in self
No longer worried about lack of wealth
Having lived through some dark times
This was the age I renewed my mind
What may matter at age of seventy
Is life going on as I live it in peace
The pitter patter of grandkids feet
Retired but inspired to love family
What matters at each life stage
Is that I live life love and pray
To wake up is a blessing each day
To die well is the last thing you face
Moonlight trickles soft light
Pouring from Milky Way
Illuminating gold silent night
Save for fireflies dancing away
Honeysuckle breeze enticing
Blue butterfly sleeps in red rose
Vision of brown owl exciting
Hunting with razor sharp toes
I need a shot of tequila and honeysuckle
at four o'clock in the afternoon
after working all day on the white sand beach
where the sun was as hot as a molten rock
before lay down on my porch swing
for a tender nap for the rest of the evening
like a Sloth hanging like a Guinep from a tree
May drifts in like childhood’s echoing breeze,
stirring scents of honeysuckle afternoons.
Every blossom feels like a memory~
spring calls me back home.
honey loaf? honey thistle? honey suckle?
I stare at the renegade tree
She has exploded with tiny bright orbs
smaller than marbles, deadly, poisonous berries
this tree will be here many mountainous lifetimes after I am gone.
honeysuckle tree
blossoms rain on summers day
yellow parachutes
she grows renegade
her offshoots grow wild too
commandeer the yard
Honeysuckles commandeered my yard
Ten in a row, watching this old bard
They grow renegade, their roots are super deep.
Providing shade for my red ninety-eight Jeep.
No need for long talk
Because the long talk
Keeps you stuck
That sucks
It's energy draining.
You can only unfold
What you behold
You're only powerful
Over what you can control
Be guided;
Diligence is the master key to life.
Welcome to the month
Of Pride and Awareness
June to be precise
The sixth month of the year
I'm wishing you all peace, love and more.
Sweet scent on the breeze,
Golden bells hanging so low,
Summer's gentle kiss.
Every little word,
It used to attract me like honeysuckle in a mid-summers bloom.
The nectar that dripped from the flower smelt sweet, the beautiful yellow pollen that left a trace on everything it touched.
Every. Little. Word.
As the seasons changed,
I got used to you finding a new place to bloom and leave your mark there,
I'm fine sharing I think you're too beautiful not to share.
I always knew where to find you, near the smell of honeysuckle and sweet nectar.
After a while I found a new flower, one that caught my eye.
You didn't like that very much.
Your sweet scent captivated me, drawing me in closer.
I land closer to you only to realize you're no longer the sweet Honeysuckle I once knew.
Your mouth closes keeping me near,
you were so scared of losing me you drew me in with your sweet scent that now felt like poison beneath my skin,
your nectar is no longer sweet but rather bitter as it swallows me.
Your once yellow pollen turns to ash, no longer leaving that beautiful yellow trail,
but a trail of the remains of what you've stolen from me,
Standing brown barefoot
In the summer springlike rain
Feeling the coolness slide down my skin
Like a bird bath for my soul
Refreshing me inside and out
Each raindrop anoints
My every joint with hazel hope
Amber buttery thoughts melt
And I plant my seeds
All those cares will be
Carried away to life
The garden I plant
In the rain will thrive
The muddy hill will
bear my fruit and
The honeysuckle wind
Will carry my truth
Essence of my being
That I will love
You bloomed in heartbeats of cream daisy,
longing to be born like breaths of
gold honeysuckle petals,
but, when fate smeared silence
on twinkling throbs of
innocence, life
sighed in crisp
embers
of
faith
as your
feet basked in
peace above earth.
Weaving shine with a
pearly smile, you swirled in
a snow-white lily's soul when
heaven melted in moonstruck sight;
I'll miss you, beyond love, my flower.
out my glass window
sways the silenced sunflower
facing herbs of gold
and silver-winged butterflies
glazed in honeysuckle hope
But in this darkness
I knit lyrical tankas;
Ink that unchains gate
to glistening moon gardens
where I'll flee from heartless ghosts
So if tomorrow
there's no poetry or prose
remember these words
as these are suppressed daydreams
of a caged blue nightingale
proffering the scent
hummingbirds under window
add to the ardor
Amazing
how smells
attach to a memory
More vivid
than eyesight
hearing or touch
They wait
deep inside us
to capture the moment
When all
other senses
—have started to rust
(Dreamsleep: June, 2022)
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