Online Hide & Seek

The above's the 1st round in my collage journal; it got edited down to the poem below:

Digital comes forth
to organize your life
into facebook - traces
of journeys, neon blurs
smeared on your path.

A forgettable past,
and the way it was
lost and found.

Sneak Attack

(Trying this whole Instagram thing out since my vibrant, hip niece and nephew hooked me up with an account.)

(reaching for) the truce

Sweet pill:
he takes it straight
and passes on.
His ex-wife will be with us shortly.

Home:
long mirrored walls
he's painstakingly crafted.

All Right has fallen ill.

A white towel drops.

Splashing the Divide: New Collage Book

For show
For tell -
these are for naught.

The flow of thought
if pure and clear
reveals the soulspring
in all its gears,
the inner spark
and all its dark
that leads the way
through years.



Welcome to my newest completed collage book, Splashing the Divide. Collages, found poems, and general reflections - page by page- are on their way. Delightful project from the moment I sewed the cardboard covers and inner pages (hand-dyed with coffee, tea, herbs, and spices) together to when I completed the last collage, completely out of order.

Facing the World

I can be a dreamer, but today I
face the things I dread:
the heart
and
the fist.

We are travelers in search of
starry nights,
some great adventure
in the lamplight.

Lost Lures: A Disillusionment in Three Parts

Only three collage poems remain from my Moonbeam Dreams journal! Enjoy this one:


The world is full of magical places:
mist-veiled
sacred ground
caught between good and evil.
-
If I could retreat
and be alone
but not isolated
And be alone
without sacrificing,
I would.
-
I've lost the magic lure
of the kingdoms
of my imagination.

Elements of Enchantment

Dabble in alchemy and initiation;
behold, the beast changes shape!
Watch tiny tadpoles morph into
full-sized frog princes.

Elements of enchantment:
a new blood moon,
that wand from the black isles,
a dash of coriander,
hydra-headed luck.

Simple relics evoke
her parallel self,
the alchemist in the shadows.

Bedecked with crystals,
kissing the demons,
never knowing
they are
devious angels.

... and you said,
"Conjure their dark sides.
Embrace the chaos."

It's the lively taste of
moments that counts.

Moonscape

Set in a dream world
of nightmares and hallowed heroes,
there is a glazed moonscape of wonder,
bursting the extraordinary
out of the mundane.

It used to be a recurring dream,
beckoning me to the straits of memory.
Such architecture and atmosphere
has lured shamans, explorers, and adventurers.
It's been bottled up:
passion taken form,
a figure standing in the hollow
sanctuary for the captivated.

Bound by a tie others know not:
purpose and destiny.

Wrap it around you.

I crave you,
body and soul.
The rest is silence,
a question of despair
marking the hours
forevermore.

Time Machine

I'm drawn to the charm of
maps and photographs,
fairy lights,
baubles,
toy box treasures you'd never
hold onto.

This warrants a steam-powered spell
to turn time like a red
glass of wine.




[The inset found-quote is: "As she was walking away, she passed by the lit window of a house. She cast no shadow." I wish I remembered where I found it!]

Childhood Wonders and Lifelong Quests

You've always wanted to find
aliens that are centuries old
and invented it all-
from battleships to bistros.

It's a love of adventure,
a great detective story,
and the search for immortality...

It does beautiful things.

Go forth and conquer!


-


Also, a big thanks to Abigail Wyatt at poetry24 for the well-captured review of my poem. Her words certainly struck a chord!

Cheers.

Sanctuary of Outcasts

Reincarnation may be dead,
but the in-between lives here.

Enter an era
of pain, passion, and obsessions,
when the power to think
is thicker than blood.

Even the vaguest memories
are drawn to us.

Ancient scars remain
with these young souls,
enthralling the
undertakings of our time.

In the Sanctuary of Outcasts,
no one's abandoned.

Ongoing

When it comes to your understanding of happiness,
where you want to be shapes your world.



Enjoy insomnia, traffic jams, and creativity
on the outskirts of the city.
The beautiful countryside is dark and cozy.



The destination is an ongoing record of that voyage.

Now start packing.


[Almost spring break time... Yay! This collage poem was well-timed; I have been posting my collage poems in order, and I did not plan for this happy cohesiveness. As an additional side note, my Moonbeam Dreams collage journal is winding down... Only a few more pages! Luckily, this year I've been working on another one, one I like even better, with a cohesive theme and sort-of storyline.]

Salvaging the Haunted Harbors

Tormented? Driven witless?
Here is your perfect forever longing.



Everything needs salvaging sometimes,
and it's our job to protect the future.

(A familiar dalliance: hope and longing intertwine as the past and the future collide. We are here, sloshed in splashback currents.)

Each part is a...

Patchwork sewn into a whole.




The bittersweet,
the saccharine - low:
the dripping moments dunked and dipped,
the tea-dress torn, the brimmed hat tipped,
the honeyed tea in chipped cup sipped.

A part of a party, an Alice party,
with the danger of a
time-warp hole.

... with a bang and a sigh

You are layers of loveliness:
protect what lies beneath.

Cover yourself with sacred dark matter.

From certain vantages,
we see new types of exploding,
moments of amazement.



To enter the realm of the dead
you need to keep calm and
summon these spirits.

Let forgotten ancestors
get their hands on you.

Sunsets on the Beach

"Passing Time"

Hidden surprises can still be cloistered.

It's time for the web of reinventing.

Spirited arrangements that
bewitch you the most.

There is a reason
the smoky shadow
grows skyward.

Coming Home

I have lived in many rooms in many houses in many places, but I have only had a few homes - places where the heart feels open, art pours out, and life unfolds in a comfortable, enjoyable way. My parents' house, my childhood home, is one of those places. Mom knows how to bring memories and possibilities into the same room, intertwining both with beauty. She has the sharpest eye for home décor I've ever seen, and has the rare gift of turning her vision into reality.

Here's a little collage poem inspired by that:



Coming Home

Return to familiar turf:
the way things feel to the touch,
vacant reveries,
the best musings in the land:

You belong here.


-


Happy birthday, Mamabear!

Searching for...

“Sometimes your only available transportation is a leap of faith.” – Margaret Shepard

This must be the passage of fabled lands.
Every artifact is evidence of
haunted landscapes we touch to capture,
but there’s nothing we take
that will forget time.

We are places of remembrance, keepers of the myth.

Sage and Honey

I heard her voice
like sage and honey
so powerful it wakes my
dark metabolism.

I am the moon's child.

I know the power of
Creation lies
in discovery
and transformation.

I know how to cast a spell:
it's about reading the tea leaves
and seeing a state of wonder.

It's time.

I will watch
the moon rise
and I will
never be
the same.

David and Goliath

"Clever Ways"

Caged by hills,
from mountains
a reproduction of something
that already existed.

How to engage David to Goliath?