Amid this winter’s grey mist grip
our April mocks her Spring impression.
Rush hour red lights stop and start,
frustrated and my happened glance at
a waif like girl no more than nine,
she’s mouthing words of imagined rhyme.
I watch her whispering monologues
as she tiptoes boulders in the park.
Pure innocence her soft protection
from cruel worlds I suffer much too well.
I mouthed my thank you to the waif
and she tiptoed boulders until dark.
layer over layer are placing the biting winds
a promise of redemption
calling me into their realm
touches of the sky for fragile preciousness
angels crying dewdrops on icy cushions
one after one forming hieratical mosaics
as crystals tearing down my skin-
i am in awe of natures wonder
copyrigth (c) 2012 by Franziska Dirnberger
I am a shell,
Echoes,
Hearing voices around.
I can not grow,
Or belong,
To anything once more.
I am empty,
Surrounded by beauty,
On this shore.
I can not love,
Alone,
Hollow once more.
I am a shell,
With no owner,
No feelings anymore.
Autumn colors in New Haven, Woodmont, Miford and Orange CT….
New Haven, CT
Woodmont, CT
(note the evacuation route sign )
Gorgeous colors in Milford, CT
Orange , CT
(known for PEZ company in the vicinity)
I’ve visited this area last year after hurricane Irene hit it..the stone walls are patched, the lawns back in order and local residents are once again preparing for a storm, this time Sandy….. hopefully, it won’t repeat Irene’s damaging force.
Post Irene, Pre- Sandy
Green
Your eyes
Aloof and blunt
Do not reach me
Silence
Copyright © 2012 by Franziska Dirnberger
Yellow
Heavy Lemons
Bitter and Sweet
Reminding me of you
Visions
Copyright © 2012 by Franziska Dirnberger
Fire : author – Kristin Cashore page 183
web: http://www.kristincashore.blogspot.com
Fire looked at the captain of her guard and laughed, because she wasn’t Cansrel – she wasn’t anyone but herself. She had no one’s path to follow; her path was her own to choose. And then she stopped laughing, because she was terrified of the path she suddenly knew herself to be choosing. I can’t do this, she thought. I’m too dangerous. I’ll only make things worse.
No, she said back to herself. Already I’m forgetting, I’m not Cansrel; at every step on this path I create myself. And maybe I’ll always find my own power horrifying, and maybe I can’t ever be what I’d most like to be.
But I can stay here, and I can make myself into what I should be.
Wise words for us all from a wonderful author.
What I’d really love to hear from you is about a day in your life. When do you wake up? What’s on your mind when you do? What are the things your heart is telling you while you go through your day? Are you fulfilled at your work, in whatever ways you work or whatever capacity? What moments give you pause?
Share it with us, in words or pictures.
To our Followers, if you’d like to write with us, post yours in the Comments section of this thread, and we’ll post them on your behalf.
Thanks everyone! Have fun with it!
Melissa
The more we know the less we understand
The more we get the less we value it
Just accept Heaven in that grain of sand
and learn to watch and listen and just sit.
Yes, you’re rushing in order to stand still
and you’re busy and life gets in the way -
take a moment to savour life’s idyll,
to breathe in deep, take pleasure in the day.
used with permission from freedigitalphotos.net
The surface of her soul
The pounding of her heart
The twinkling of the moonlight
Gave way to every spark
Of fire that was started
Beyond the depths of time
She felt her spirit wither
And her eyes close softly tight
As she contemplated life
And faded with the night
Creativity is -
