My Line of Words...

Pacific Sun

2012-01-18T16:32:00.000-08:00

Hearts and scars and crashing waves;
pacific sun that warms our days.
Look ahead and trade one shade of blue for another,
walk away from lonely and make the ocean your lover.

Laughter rings out from days gone by;
throw away memorie that made you cry.
Find a wet seashell and put it in your pocket;
smooth it with your fingers - it's your heart's new locket.

Drop a tear in the ocean and make it your last;
the future escapes you when you live in the past.
Ships on the horizon sail off to distant shores;
catch one if you can - make a new dream yours.

Turn your back on the continent and look out to the sea:
out beyond the breakers is where your soul can be free.
Listen to the silence before a wave crashes down;
this is your life that the ocean surrounds.

Let the water catch your tears and quiet your soul;
breathe in the sea air that makes your spirit whole.
Journeys and dreams and crashing waves;
pacific sun that warms our days.

Written for the Olympiad of the Arts and first published in 2005.

NaPoWriMo #30 Sonnet for the Future

2010-04-30T16:06:00.000-07:00

May we always know the wonder
a child's enchanted mind reveals
as through life we toil and blunder
with progress snapping at our heels.

Let us forever stop and smell
the roses on our thorny paths;
listen to the sea in each shell
tell secrets of a world so vast.

For there's time enough to worry
about the Things we've yet to do -
don't let the lines get too blurry;
tend to the magic inside you.

Go be a mirror for the joy on every child's face,
and don't let their unconditional awe go to waste.

NaPoWriMo # 28 Ahaaa!

2010-04-28T18:41:00.000-07:00

Thirteen years spent answering phones
and making others' burdens lighter
shuffling papers and stifling groans...
"What do you do?" I'm a writer.

Office work - administration - by day
and part-time student by every night
a working mom just paying my way,
but being a writer's what feels right.

So in between semesters and exams
Big Ideas plants little seeds of hope.
I water them with such grand plans -
sometimes too much, but they float.

No, the writing doesn't pay the bills
and I can't be certain I'm any good,
but I find my success in little thrills
doing what I never thought I could:

A few good friends and my teachers
have cheered me through the years
but there's one voice in my bleachers
that hollers louder than all my fears:

It wasn't until I heard her say it that
my future ambitions burned brighter-
the question of favourites was asked -
"My mum! She's my favourite writer!"

NaPoWriMo #27 Acrostic Beauty

2010-04-27T10:15:00.000-07:00

Powder your face with sunshine, wear the perfume
of the sea, give your soul Mother Nature's bloom,
wear her freedom on your feet. Allow yourself to
disregard Urgency's beck and call. There is room
enough tomorrow for the tasks undone today. Assume
responsibility for a more peaceful version of you.

Your yesterday will be here too soon. Let the wonder
of Nature magnify life's perfections. So dance under
umbrellas, wink back at the moon, laugh and plunder
roses' sweetness, shout and roar back at the thunder.

Face your future with the hope found in Nature's glory
and listen to her whispers on the wind. Let your story
collect bits and pieces of the world so your inventory
expands beyond yourself and always know "memento mori".

With the hope beyond the breakers, let your ship sail
into sight. Toss your soul a raft amidst Life's gale,
towing yourself to safer seas. To live is not to fail -
have the courage to know a life outside society's veil.

Sunshine dries the tears of every storm and then plays
up our brighter moments letting beauty and warmth blaze
nearer to us. So feel the sand between your toes as rays
sparkle over the turning tide. Find your way in the maze
having faith in Mother Nature's light. Look up and gaze
into the sky as the sun makes way for a moon whose chase
never ends and be enchanted by the wonders Life displays
each day. May you powder your face with sunshine always.

NaPoWriMo #26 Nature's Medicine

2010-04-26T20:54:00.000-07:00

Kick off your shoes, let the sand
massage your weary feet. Go stand
at the edge of the ocean. A peace
will find you there. Sign a lease
on a mental vacation home. A wave
drowns out what you couldn't save:
uninvited thoughts wreaking havoc
on your soul. Settle in a hammock
swinging beneath shady palm trees.
The ocean's gentle rhythm's seize
your spirit while little whispers
from the Pacific's depth lingers.
When the sea lives within a heart
its healing powers always impart
their magic on the loneliest soul,
making all your broken bits whole.

NaPoWriMo #24 Frailty? Thy Name Is Woman

2010-04-24T20:47:00.000-07:00

You give your body as a nest,
a loving pod for Future's pea;
a mother's nerves know no rest.
What do you know of frailty?
Thy name is Woman.

Raising a young family alone
with a husband at war or sea,
keeping a brave face and home -
what do you know of frailty?
Thy name is Woman.

Punching in and earning pay,
attending to their every plea,
with no ceiling in your way,
what do you know of frailty?
Thy name is Woman.

Ruling countries and empires,
earning votes and liberty
fighting battles, and fires
What do you know of frailty?
Thy name is Woman.

NaPoWriMo #23 A Most Unholy Union

2010-04-23T08:27:00.000-07:00

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the presence
of my brain, and before these thoughts (so endless)
and intentions, to join together these words
and this rhyme in Poetry, which is my curse
but an honorable and beautiful tradition,
and therefore is not to be a submission
entered into unadvisedly or lightly,
and not to be structured forthrightly
but woven instead with love, respect,
friendship, and honor. And so imperfect
though it is, into this world this purloined
thought and this rhyme come now to be joined.

NaPoWriMo #22 Sunset At Steamer Lane

2010-04-22T12:00:00.000-07:00

Quietly sitting under a saffron yellow sky,
a squall made of hungry gulls scattering
glides over me. I flinch at their sharp cry.

The cliffs below me reverberate their calls
while a crow hops around in ignorant bliss.
In their absence, he snatches whatever falls.

Surfers floating out beyond the breakers
look like pepper flakes from my distance -
here at the edge of the Pacific's acres.

The railing keeping me away from the sea
is covered in years of rust. A tendril
of salt-sprayed hair floats on the breeze

as I ponder the ocean's array of treasures -
an emporium for the soul. It nearly makes
me dizzy contemplating its mighty pleasures.

Then the sky burns to a faded blue as night
coaxes the surfers to find their last wave.
But they ride past the day's forgiving light.

I watch them, longing to reach out and borrow
their fierce ambition, to be caught inside
the Pacific. Not today, but maybe tomorrow.

For now though, my lungs are full of the sea
and the waves are thundering in my heart,
at the edge of the ocean under heaven's marquee.

NaPoWriMo #20 The Hero Of My Own Story

2010-04-20T21:09:00.000-07:00

I can't scale a building, but I have climbed so many trees;
I can't stop trains, but I've brought bullies to their knees;
I don't wear a mask, but my face is powdered with sunshine;
I don't wear a cape, but these unhidden scars are all mine;
I don't have xray vision, but I have survived every test;
I don't have healing powers, but I've been a healthy nest;
I don't have a sidekick; but I've got an army of friends;
I don't have headquarters, but I know where the sidewalk ends;
I can't time travel, but the world is calling for me;
I'm not a superhero - just the hero of my own story.

NaPoWriMo #19 Light Bulb Moments at a Piano

2010-04-19T21:59:00.000-07:00

Days of practice turn into weeks,
the melody slowly finding its way
to my fingers. The tempo seeks
a victory over fingers that stray,

stumbling over scattered ornaments.
The keys stubbornly play staccato;
phrases battle with their accents;
slurs creep up, demanding legato.

The notes taunt me from their page
and I repeat, just for good measure.
Fortissimo conspires with my rage;
yet every day I practice I treasure

and await the moment when music grants my soul admittance.
Now, fingers flying, I become my piano's humbled audience.

NaPoWriMo #16 What a Magical Morning Smells Like

2010-04-16T20:33:00.000-07:00

I wake early in the morning,
sitting up slowly in my tent
with my sleeping bag bunched
around me. Awoken by scent.

Hugging all my warmth to me,
I stick my head out the flap
of my tent and listen to the
water's distant gentle slap

against the shore. Breathing
deeply I inhale the new day:
the smells of the fir trees
and fresh air bid me to wake.

A mossy boulder shyly invites
me to watch the breeze play -
blowing wrinkles across the
glassy lake's peaceful face.

Mornings in the wilderness
are a gift I'd never trade,
for the air reeks of magic
and the smell never fades.

NaPoWriMo #13 "Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie"

2010-04-13T10:48:00.000-07:00

My favorite pastime has become the imaginary destruction of flowers.
This, while experiencing the unstoppable construction of your towers,
gives life to a Mighty Fury armed with Mother Nature's powers.
She takes gifts as wonderfully as She gives - yours, mine...ours.

A hurricane surrounds your concrete palace leaving shambles in its wake
and your highways crumble in the echo of Her laughing, splitting quake.
Volcanos roar, glowing warmly and echo their approval of vengeance made
against these intruders trampling uninvited to Mother Nature's space.

So as the world wilts, humanity pauses, pleads forgiveness and cowers;
seeking reprieve and shelter from their own chemically induced showers;
knowing that their damage can not be undone in years let alone hours;
vowing to defend the honor of all things beautiful: yours, mine...ours.

The first line of this poem is borrowed from Norman Dubie.

NaPoWriMo #9 Our Mission

2010-04-09T19:28:00.000-07:00

In someone else's winter
light a torch to a campfire -
watch the heat raise a blister,
melt the barb off a Suit's wire.

We are nature's marionettes
on the fringe of Earth's wild rug
not chasing Ungettable Gets -
talons of Class feel our tug.

We massage Reality's bruise
and stow away a Pail of love -
the hippies' life we do choose
putting flowers in your gun.

A tangle of arms and smiles,
waves whisper at our chorus -
we do without Money's wiles -
and Peace strums softly for us.

NaPoWriMo #7 Love, Funny Side Up

2010-04-07T20:39:00.000-07:00

A tangle of arms and laughter and smiles
surely we've met a hundred times before?
Oh yes. You're exactly as I thought you'd be...
only brighter, shinier
so much stronger than me.

NaPoWriMo #6 To A Lighthouse

2010-04-06T20:09:00.000-07:00

I saw your light
shine from a gale
that battered my ship
and tore every sail.

You showed me a way
to calmer waters -
guided my ship
to a quiet harbor.

I told you things -
didn’t want you to know,
I thought if you knew
your light would go.

But your light never dimmed;
it shown along with me
and lighted my course:
unraveled my mystery.

So here I am -
a human shipwreck -
standing with a broom
cleaning my deck.

My vessel is in
a safe harbor now
as I begin repairs
from stern to bow.

Soon I'll be done
cleaning my debris;
my heart will return
to its home on the sea.

When you see my ship
sailing back on its course,
the gratitude in its wake
will always be yours.

napowrimo #5 My Tiny Dancer

2010-04-05T10:51:00.000-07:00

My mind has a Tiny Dancer
forever floating 'round my dome.
Blushing, smitten by this prancer
my shy words leave their home.

She twinkles beneath Courage,
dancing "Go this way! Be Free!"
as she spins away Discourage;
floating my words to Liberty.

While my words go sailing away
bravely twirling into rhymes,
the Tiny Dancer's gentle sway
guides them into steady lines.

Once free, my words so rarely look back from where they came.
But the Tiny Dancer asks no thanks, she dances just the same.

napowrimo #3 Here Comes The Fear

2010-04-03T18:09:00.000-07:00

Eyes always behind
in memory's mind,
knuckles of white -
but not to fight,
lungs that betray,
heartbeats astray,
ear drums pounding,
panic surrounding
the coward in me:
my worst enemy.

napowrimo #2 The Roman Warm Period

2010-04-02T12:01:00.000-07:00

An environmentalist is a gladiator,
not unlike those of ancient Rome,
and to some he is an instigator,
empty as that hole in the ozone.

But whichever side of the arena
that your party bellows from,
the zooplankton in the marina
appear to be going going gone.

From air conditioned buildings
Good Intentions are dispatched,
but who will do the questioning
of Mother Nature's shady past?

There's hydrocarbon powered vehicles
where those old chariots used to be;
and as we slurp our melting popsicles
do we forget this heat is necessary?

As our talking heads do all the preaching
and the activists goodheartedly enlist,
the Roman Warm Period could be teaching
that this global warming is just a myth.

So I say what could be the harm in caution
and us treading just a little more lightly?
If time reveals it's all for naught, then
at least we'll have clean air to breathe!

napowrimo #1

2010-04-01T09:36:00.000-07:00

I've been storming down Thunder Road,
torn between Love and Liberty;
Decisions made would lighten my load -
or would they? Oh lonesome me.

Drops of Jupiter mingle with the rain
flooding more than just my view.
Liberty drowns with no ground to gain
So, Yes. I will always love you.