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Posts tagged ‘poetry’


Cocoon Series #-84

Dear Diary,


My cocoon

Is neither warm nor cold.

It is neither black nor bright.

It is slightly too large.

My footfalls echo when I am pacing.

But I am not always pacing.

Mostly, I sit in the center,


Emptying my mind

Listening vaguely to

The whispers

Of my Evolution

In the quiet

Drawing stamina

For the brilliant butterfly of my existence

On the outside

Of my cocoon.





Dear Diary,


Dark streaks on the window pane


The rain.

The rivulets stutter

And absorb the filth

Before pushing relentlessly downward

Continuing the purposeful journey

To soak the ground

To enable growth to spring forth.

At times they are trapped by manmade


Or plastic

Rendering them useless to their mission.

There they wait

Until the sun collects them

Once again


Anticipating the chance to try again.

The Blackness


Dear Diary,


That dark, lonely place

We go


Away from life bustle

Away from the love and joy we know

Can be charcoal gray with frayed edges,


The deepest black with no sides or depth.

A cocoon of despair,

We lay engulfed and alone within our mind,

Lost in time and place

Wanting only numbness.


We have all felt depressed. Eventually, most of us can gather the fortitude to take our own hand to ascend back into the daylight to continue moving within life’s bustle and accept the love and joy we know exists for us and realize pain is just part of the whole game. Oftentimes, it does take a kind touch or word from someone else to pierce the darkness and coax us back into the realm of positive function. Depression is a universal tourist trap that we all have visited solo in our life travels. However, some people get lost there and cannot fully reemerge onto the highway and shake off the lingering blackness. Be aware of those with such a clinging cloak, look closely through well manufactured facades. It will be their undoing. Perhaps a bit of sun or aid offered will be the salve that is needed to pull them out of the pothole and back on the path. Perhaps it will not be enough. But our eyes should not be blind and our hands tired of trying. And if you find yourself in a seemingly impenetrable state of depression, try turning it on its head by being there for someone else who is struggling. You also must let your loved ones in to help you because, believe me, they do want to keep you. And of course there is always professional help as well.


Joan D. Chittister goes so far to say that  “Darkness deserves gratitude. It is the alleluia point at which we learn to understand that all growth does not take place in the sunlight.” Depression happens, but it must not be allowed to move in and stay. Use it and then lose it.

Those Dreams


Dear Diary,

The Dreams,

They come.

Some weave and pass

On their meandering way

Leaving no mark

Or snag of questions.

Others bite and hold

Presenting riddles

To be played out over time

Warnings or truths to be presented


Words or events to be watched for

Some unfold quickly,

Others languish

In time

Pricking thoughts at odd intervals

Or lost within the flow of days, but still


Awaiting consciousness.



Dear Diary,

Feeling some poetry coming on…


The Kaleidoscope

Infused with light

Dazzles with brilliant vibrant color.

The shapes spin etched and clear.


In the darkness

The hues become sullenly muddled.

The figures huddle upon themselves

In a murky mass.


I make the shapes come much too close.

The sharp edges penetrate;

The colors spill into my eyes.

Whirled by unseen hands;

I see

A dimension


At once both breathtaking and unnerving.

Rubies and Arrows


Dear Diary,

Poetry today…


The sweetness was always there

The first moment  the bright spirit breathed air

Lovely  wings of the butterfly

Knowing to give without needing why


Fragile in flight against the wind and the rain

Bedraggled but driven to fly but again

The translucent colors, they dripped from the wing

Leaving pale smudges of where they had been

Creating stones more worthy of giving

Blood red rubies more useful for living

And stealthy, sure arrows with light at the point

Guided to strike both at face and at joint

Rubies and arrows; tools for true living

Arrows to smite and rubies for giving


The sweetness, it lingered

The spirit stayed bright

And the giving continued

Protected by might






Dear Diary,


The foothold gives


Within the shifting sienna soil


Slowly sliding downward


A little more


Crumbling outward, and settling on level, if not firm, ground.


It does not appear


That the way to continue is to retrace the fallen steps.


The earthen walls are sheer.


The sky crowns the distant precipice


Of the first faltering steps


That led to this place,


A different place,


With an unfamiliar view


And unusual possibilities.


It is a dry river bed.


Swirls of sediment mark the distant memory of rushing water,


Now absent.


It stretches ahead


Beyond the reach of sight


Destination unclear.


Further down, the bank is yet passable.


Ascent would be possible through tangled trees


And steep, rock strewn incline.


The point of origin could perhaps be reached


Once again.


Climb back up or explore onward?


Water begins to seep in ever increasing rivulets


Soaking the thirsty ground.


Saturation becomes mud.


Walking becomes unsteady.


The roar of the approaching torrent can be heard


Before it arrives.


Scramble to the bank or ride the impending wave?











The Sea and You


Dear Diary,

A love note. Happy Valentine’s day.

I breathe
the essence of the surrounding sea
and your presence.
I hear
the dancing of the pounding waves
and your laughter.
I taste
the tangy salt air
and your kiss.
I see
the sparkle of the sunset on the glistening water
and your eyes.
I feel
the ocean breeze blow through me
as does your spirit.
I embrace with all of my senses
the roil and the beauty of the crashing sea
as I do you and I
in our journey together.



Dear Diary,

Poetry today…


My heart skitters within

And then there is nothing

Laughter has seeped out

Along with the heartbeat

Tears will not form

It is dry and silent within

Only whispering echoes reside.


Perhaps that I have broken

Will break you


To see.

Perhaps not.


The vast empty space

Begs for the jagged pieces to be collected and sorted

From their scattered places

Sculpted into something less fragile

Tarnished pieces discarded or polished,

New pieces brought in to fill the holes.

Beauty must be sought

Regardless of the sources

And built over time

To replace the dusty rubble and silence

That has come.

Before Dawn

Deary Diary,

Poetry today.


Before Dawn


In the stillness of the morning dark,

Void of the call of any lark,

The trees are silent and waiting.

The day ahead could bring anything.


The quiet air surrounds me.

I am enveloped in what could be.

Before the bustle of the coming day,

I breathe the dark before sun’s ray.


I feel your presence all around me.

I see your face, but unclearly

Intermingled with the truth and pain,

Laced in love and joy within the stain.


I embrace it all to live what’s real,

To grow and die and truly feel.

Striving to be unhampered by

Superficial things that bind and tie.



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