the night before last
I dreamt of a field of blue poppies
vivid in the moonlight
along the path I walked
in India
my first international dream
© 2011 Turquoise Tangles
the night before last
I dreamt of a field of blue poppies
vivid in the moonlight
along the path I walked
in India
my first international dream
© 2011 Turquoise Tangles
Make the most of you today
live the life you’ve dreamed aboutThere’s a beauty deep within
now’s the time to let it outHave a little faith in yourself
who can say what you can doDon’t let doubt defeat your dreams
let them see the best of youRemember you’re a Child of God
created to live…
everyone knows
hearts are made of glass
and filled with love
some of tempered tough
some of fragile cracked
some mirrored reflective
and some
already broken
love leaking out
most are made of bits and pieces
and fragments and slivers
of all the broken hearts
that ever were
a piece from her
a shard from him
all placed back together
again
with hope
holding them all together
as the love refills
hearts made out of glass
Beautifully said, Kevin. Yes. That’s it exactly. Hope and Love. *big heartfelt sigh*
I dreamt I went to Africa last night.
I have no clue why.
I asked my subconscious.
But it doesn’t know why either.
© 2011 Turquoise Tangles
I’m playin’ with fire
dancin’ ever closer
stayin’ just out of reach
I’m playin’ with fire
turning back the clock
in my mind and heart
and remembering
I’m playin’ with fire
dredging up memories
best left buried deep
I’m playin’ with fire
hopin’ not to get burned
or burn another
I’m playin’ with fire
red, orange, yellow
bright blue glow
of the flame
as I stare
mesmerized
by what I see
I’m playin’ with fire
the danger attracts
I admit it
my rebellious side
isn’t quashed
yet
I’m playin’ with fire
drawn like a moth
to a flame
with memories
of you
OUCH!
Got too close
for just a moment
while I was
playin’ with fire
© 2011 Turquoise Tangles
Philine,
Hope I didn’t overstep by adding a title to your words, with my 2¢ added, underneath. Oh, how your suggestion, reminder, prescription for living, spoke to me, as a daughter, sister, friend, wife, mother, teacher, and artist and writer too. My soul is thirsty, though thankfuly not as barren and dry as it once was, just a few short years ago. The order feels all mixed up somedays, on who gets what, when, and I don’t know where to start. It was a lovely morning here, with afternoon just begun and the evening still ahead. Thanks for writing. 🙂
~ Janean
something inside me makes me write
You offer overflowing love
to everyone else and
leave nothing for yourselfYou hope to save
a lost soul
but you don’t even
know how to save
your ownYou give too much
water to the thirsty
and forget about
the thirst in your throatNow look in the mirror
and see what you’ve become
Remember that the
things you offer to people
you can offer yourself too
novicepen,
THANK YOU MUCH, for this beautiful reminder to feed our own soul. My mother’s advice is, “Put yourself on The List”. Several friends advised, “Boundaries”, when they noticed my thirsty soul, and then encouraged me to pursue the things that water it. Making and teaching art, and writing poetry and prose, is The Best Thirst Quencher In The World, for me. Art and Writing are My Oasis In The Desert.
~ Janean
“And we’re writers, so we know that old “sticks and stones” rhyme is complete and utter bullshit.”
EXCERPT FROM: Defenestrations: Maintenance Issues: A Writer’s Manifesto