Soul’s Comfort

At the end of the last path
at the end of the last road

Overlooking pristine lake
with deer eyes blinking
at the sinking sun

There where coyote and hawk
owl, bear, and cougar
cavort and live lives
befitting their species

There on that wooded hill
above the lake of dreams
my soul finds comfort
in any given hour

The Gameplan

On top of my gameplan
all covered with grit
I got so frustrated
that I could just spit

The map that I clung to
was thrown to the side
as God is the pilot
I’m in for the ride

The adventure it has me
I think I’ll enjoy

instead of controlling
or getting annoyed…

(Try this one out to the tune of On Top of Old Smokey)

Turn the Phrase

She likes to futz
in the kitchen with flavors
and the clean dish

In the garden with ivy
and the occasional veggie

In the studio with pen and ink
and big brush on canvas

And, most of all,
in the turn of the phrases
and singing heartsongs
with the man in her life

Joyous Abandon

With persistence he prevailed
In his quest for dynamic equilibrium

While out beyond
Ideas of who we are…

Our Spirits dance
In joyous abandon

Vocal Spirit

The focal point of his Spirit
the man was vocal
in most every regard

The pursuit of astute phrases
beguiled his appetite
even in the midst of silence

The poet’s soul, a local bard
and extraneous verbiage

A mirror with two sides

Melody runs beneath it

Choice

Choice

It is always about choice…

Each and every moment…
no matter what the circumstance
or physical evidence of truth
I choose joy or sorrow
…peace or strife

Oh, what a blessed variety!

Sing the Light

Everybody!
Everybody sings the Light

Light is the expression
Of a small part
Of the spectrum of vibration
That is all that is!

We are the singers
Of the Light

An enormous chorus
Symphony of Light
Everybody…

Silliness and the Dark Side of Joy

Silliness and the Dark Side of Joy

What’s half Poobah and half unicorn? It’s Cornpoon. The Poobahs over at Playing Around Workshops were commenting back and forth about the poohbah hats of Betty and Wilma Flinstone, and how they wanted hats like that.  I have a full set of horns, so I applied and was granted the honor of becoming an honorary Poobah. They discovered they only had one set of horns between them, and decided that they might be Poonicorns after all.  I suggested it was a Cornpoon instead. I found this old image from late yesterday to illustrate what (or who) exactly that is.

When I take silliness too far I slip into the dark side of joy, which, sort of like the dark side of the moon, is still joy nonetheless. Even after the sun goes down, I love dressing up, putting on a funny hat and howling at the moon.

I’m signed up to attend the Playing Around Workshops with Melissa and Kelly because I take Creative playtime seriously. The Muse demands it. It’s like vitamins for my creativity. I get quite dull minded when I don’t partake. So, I intend to seriously enjoy.

Freedom Dance

It began in the molten rock

Arose a rumble from a thrum
vibration deep and slow

Refined by Spirit’s attention
to a tingling tickling at her surface

As dancing feet connected
incited to interpret freedom

As voices allowed
sacred sound as song

A continuum, a connection
a refinement of expression
rising out from the Earth

Shiny Joy

Shiny Joy

His Spirit shines out
like a bright sun

Glorifying his experience
with the joyful Zen-ness of the day

While annealed
in the crucible of experience

My joy response
is very shiny!