"My Wonderful Life" and "A Trip to the Oregon Coast"

I have always believed in someday,
something to look forward to,

a dream, yet to come true. . .

 someday I will be younger,
prettier, healthier, wealthier . . .
someday I will find my great love . . .
be smarter,
and wiser. . . 

I will write the 

"Great American Novel,"

I will win the lottery,

I will save millions 

from some unknown danger,
I will be a hero,
someday . . .

 

maybe this year . . .

 

 

All those dreams 
that float along after me,
like helium filled balloons, 
rainbow hued and
carnival bright. . . 
reflecting the shine of my eyes . . .

 


 

 they are my untold tales . . .
the alternate universe's

vision of me . . .
the shadow that walks 

and talks 

and breaths
somewhere else

 

step through the mirror
and you will see her
living the life
I did not lead . . .

 

  and she is dreaming a dream
of being me,

walking in me,
living as me,
my unfinished tale,
my wonderful  life  . . .

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Oregon Coast, Lincoln City

 

All pictures are taken on the Oregon Coast by me . . . late December 2010 - 

and the credit for the beauty of these pictures goes to Mother Nature . . . not me . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   Happy New Year - 2011

old things

My life is built of this and that . . .
desperate pleasures. . .
old sorrows
a glance at a dream
flashing by . .
the dawn and the dusk
revolving like a wheel
of light . . . crushing me
beneath the weight of time . . .

I  built my house,
piece by piece,
each molecule
of dust connecting
with its kind. . .
cohesion,
expression and form. . .
a creature gray and low,
drifting
along with the drafts,
finding a nest
beneath
in the darkness

bits and pieces, old notes and letters
left unread,
cracked and yellowed books . . .
faded pictures, and receipts of long
forgotten pleasures . . .
boxes of beads,
buttons, and knotted threads,
a moldy ribbon wraps around the lot . .

age old things
once desired and pursued
owned and then forsaken,
obliterated by inconstant
determination. . .

softly my house
scatters itself around me
adding to the detritus of my life. . .

devolving out of my beating heart a
blood so dark it flows unnoticed through the night,
the house becoming my flesh,
creaking and moaning. . .
flesh adhering to slumping walls. . .

the things that were owned
now own the thing
that once owned. . .

##

Cimetiere DuPere Lachaise

One Winter's Night

December 17, 2010


I was riding the bus this morning. . .
and it was very peaceful and quiet
except for one woman who was talking
to someone about a feast
that she had prepared
for the people at her job.
She was describing in detail,
all the vegetarian dishes,
she had made
and other delicious things. . .
and a word kept cropping up
in her conversation
- "ENJOY."
As in:
"I really enjoyed creating the menu.
And I enjoy that kind of food. . .
and cooking is something I enjoy."
Each time she said that word,
her voice got just a tiny bit louder . . .
warm and mellow .  .   .
but gave that extra inflection to the word.


And that word became highlighted
in brilliant neon in my heart . . .
and bounced around in my ears
and made me pay attention . . .
What is it about that word
that is so pleasurable to me? 
Enjoy!


A word that evokes simple pleasures -
sensing the good things in life . . .
the simpler the better . . .
The Dictionary's explanation . . .
1). To receive pleasure or satisfaction from.
2). To have the use or benefit of.
To have a pleasurable or satisfactory time.


Enjoyment can occur any time. . .
any place and
under any circumstances . . .
even the most dire . . . in life . . .
through every breath
we ever take . . .

Some Winter Joys:    The cold crispness of the air in my nostrils . . .  and the warmth and flavors of houses as I walk by.   The colorful lights decorating the homes of generous souls . . . to brighten my dark, long winter's nights.  An evening's walk in the twilight . . . observing the ambient lights from windows where I can see a close family eating dinner, conversing, smiling. . . and I get the feeling that I could walk up on that porch and open the front door to warm greetings and acceptance as a family member . . . just for that split second . . . then I look away so as not to be a voyeur . . .or intrusive. .  .


That moment . . . that precious dream . . . of . . .  family . . .
ENJOY!

The Meaning of Life . . .

Love is . . .

We are in a play . . .
We chose our own roles
Many millennium times millennium ago . . .
We are in a play . . .
observed by all the entities of the Universe
times Universes . . . and beyond
Deep into the darkest recesses and
High into the brightest star clouds
live the other beings, our audience,
We once knew them but
through the graces of time
on this royal blue planet. . .
have forgotten them . . .

and
though we were warned
that we would forget
our star-like existence . . .
we were eager to become the actors
and endure the pain,
the heartbreak,
the joy . . .
we chose to take on the costume
and take on our roles . ..

so we wander on this stage,
this world,
costumed in fragile flesh . . .
and we fulfill our existence here
every one of us . . .
shadowed in mysteries . . .
we feel lost as humans
yet we have it the way it is to be . . .
we call it Fate:

The choice -
to be a baby dying in an African village
one of thousands . . .to give opportunity
to touch the hearts
of the witnesses .. . so they may show kindness
in love .. .
The choice -
To be part  of a murdering army
so that others may show courage,
fortitude, and love in combat
The choice -
To be a young mother of two little children, suffering with a growing cancer,
that fills her body. . .so that her friends can show her love.
The choice -
To be a quiet living soul,
tending and creating a beautiful garden,
in love, so as to touch the heart and delight of a photographer. . .

To be, in every step of the way  . . . a star
to touch, to guide, to learn . . . to be love,
to love,
for love is truth
when it is given through the hiding shadows
when only the tales of time
will reveal all
as perfection. . .

The whole purpose of our lives -
has meaning . . .
to demonstrate the ways of love -
to kill the darkness and bring in the light.

That is our play . ..  and earth is our stage
and we are the actors . . .
presenting to the Universe. . .
a show about love.


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