my kind of life
A bitter storm draws close upon the land
the rusty sky full of verse as a poet
Wind whispering in my ear, no, crashing
piercing, breath before the drumbeat of the Gods
A drop, so sweet, so wet upon my brow
Open eyes question the day’s weeping
A soft brush falls here, now there
The writer smiles for a simple moment
when all words are put away
And only feeling soaks my soul
There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening, that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost.
Painted colors flood my mind with a tide of fresh ideas. Beauty is simple and pure and divined in majestic individuality. Ugliness is a word of placed judgment and usually beheld as an opinion, while in actuality it is our mirror we see in everything, and all reflects back to us what we are. If something or someone is deemed unfit for tolerably pleasure filled sight, it is upon those that see it so to embrace that image for their own. For they have recognized it for themselves. Is it not fantastic that society esteems beauty in only a very few models, when in reality every person and every thing is beautiful just as it also allows an element of ugliness. We live in a world of dualities and for everything that is good there is also a bad.
Ah, the moon shines so brightly on bare legs
Whispering sweet nothings to an open ear
I gaze in wonder, struck by sight
Of it’s glistening surface, milky white
A halo full and round like I’ve never seen
Blessing this Christmas evening in prayer
Struck in blue as a holy light
She keeps me wakeful, knowing, calm
God’s glory sings a message
for one and all to see
The safeness of His story
and loving memory
Those midnight bells are ringing and mingling
with my nothings
I’m happy in this existential moment,
me and the full moon
Christmas past and the halo glows
reminding me of God’s presence
in my life
and on nature’s skyway to Heaven
a novella by Nina R. Thrasher
The calm sleep of day I do desire, for the nights terrify me. An endless torture of dreams I wish to call nightmares are simply my own lustful thoughts. My stomach churns with the ache of unsatisfied desire.
Sorrow sits deep within me.
The jewels that once were my beautiful considerations, my innocent imaginings, are smashed upon the floor now. Fate hates me as much as I hate it. I want to walk long hours in the rain so no one can see my tears as they fall continually, dripping down onto my breast. I sit in seeming repose, but all I ever want to do is smoke another cigarette.
And so we meet again.
*** Continue reading “Nights on the Soul©”
I want to notice God more. I know He is all around me, I just want to be aware of His presence in a more present sort of way. These past couple of years we have had purple Mexican petunia flowers blooming every day in front of our house. By late afternoon, all the day’s blooms would fall off, only to be replaced by a new batch the very next day. I mean, a bunch of flowers. I guess I took them for granted, because this year we have hardly seen any. The weather was very dry this Spring. And so, I have missed seeing the purple blooms in a way I didn’t think I would. I have missed pointing them out to my older daughter, Petal. I have missed how fresh and full they are in the morning, and how limp and withering they turn by afternoon. I have missed the way they framed the front of our house. I have missed the little miracle of their daily blooms and their reminder of God’s creation and the passing of time. If they come again next year, I will notice them, indeed. And they will make me think of God. Tonight I watched, mesmerized, as my five month old daughter, Eden, fell asleep. Her perfect little face, the eyes getting more and more sleepy, happily slurping down her bottle. This little creation of my womb, is, I know, God’s greatest creation. I, am God’s greatest creation. We are all God’s greatest creation. If I can notice a fallen flower after the heat of the day and see God’s hand at work, then I must be able to recognize the work of God’s hand in the stranger, the lover, the mother, the child, in each and every one of us. I would like to be able to notice God in you, dear reader, at all times. I hope not to need to remind myself of this. I would like to reach a point where I recognize God in all people all the time. That is a great reach, however, when I remember how many times I didn’t even look at the petunias, and I don’t even make eye contact with so many people. Since I want to notice God more, I think that I will begin with the flowers. Each time I see a flower, I will remind myself that God made it. Next, my children and my husband are God’s gift to me. I can see God in them at all times. My extended family I do love and that should not be too hard, either, to remember their divinity. Beyond that, I will need some work at recognizing how great God is in all that he has created. I pray that I will be more aware of God in so many things, but most of all, in myself.
I am
Cold as the water from a mountain stream
Cold at night when you’re in my dreams
Cold, all alone as I walk the street
Cold and only wanting your body heat
Yesterday’s laughter is far from me
It can never be the same with you or me
My mind is freezing as I watch my breath
grow ever, ever fainter–and I freeze to death
Rolling, Counting, throwing dice
Fate determined by the crushing blow
of a Samsonite suitcase
Heavy duty, lifetime guarantee
Where will it be after you and me
have joined the shampoo confederation
upon Mount Landfill of History
Mutual exhaust of our cars in tune
One more bomb could seal our doom
Mute but not deaf, only color blind
Shutting out waiting time till the end
Yesterday’s crush of flesh upon mine
Sweetest touch after the hardest crime
Escapist mind rush I injest
Words and pictures to drown the rest
If happiness fell from a deep blue sky
Would the chicken cry or would we die
I can only understand my very little world
Alone control my body’s space
Thoughts of love upon every race
Whispers forgiven, deeds replaced
Holy mantras chanted true
And I will do what monkeys do
If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day, and you will come at last to love the whole world with an all-embracing love.
Death holds us together
One two three
Songs of instrumental melody
Side by side you and me
Could we have wed at the cemetery gate?
Could we have fulfilled our vows?
Wearing black and sighing in sadness
As souls of consciousness, can we be together now?
I thought I’d die the day we met
My head is bursting in migraine
I thought I’d kill you in bed
But now I’m alone and feeling only pain
Funerals are pretty when it’s fleeting voyeurism
Could I say I’m sorry and bring you back from the grave
A sleepy murderess dreams sad and sweet
I pray to God to pave the way and ask that I be saved