There is a certain fascination Life holds; defined in a splash of colours of despair, faith, love, conflict, happiness and a sense of awareness. My Life is a maze, a tangled web of emotions, thoughts and feelings I write so I can breathe. I am not at the end of my journey. Each passing moment is a journey in itself. My writings reflect my journey and I share my life through this. A gypsy through Life, my journey is endless, my day here, a pause, before I become aware of what more...

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Love and Gravity

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Love
A roving eye at the age of ten blast of hormones raging wars at thirteen.
Love? What nonsense, this is just a crush you see
…heartbreaks and healing all a matter of days, perhaps months
of light grazes to the knees.
Do you even know what love is?
Of course! It is what makes the world go round.
So, that’s not gravity? Sure is! Of a different kind.
It is serious business, you, my lady are not prepared for…
it will take you to the moon fling you down to earth.
Gravity!
No, the heartbreak, the falling in love is just the beginning
Gravity!
Lashes hold tears until they flow, down the cheeks bereft of a smile
Gravity!
The heart skips beats, it will go past the throat
…isn’t that defying gravity?
Depends, says my soul, whether you are flat on your face or looking at the sky.
What has that to do with love?
Everything my child.
What is love then? Not a noun for sure!
‘Tis a verb whispers my heart, bruised oft in the hunt for what is real.
Nonsense! It is something that is not from this world.
Exactly the point! It is universal
But knows no standards, heeds no rules,
it journeys through invisible, in a gypsy wanderlust
seeks the unseen soul.
Sigh! What is it? I surrender. You tell me what it really is!
Softly holds my soul my heart in its fold
takes me to an invisible domain,
glowing in eternal light where freedom abides.
Ah! I get it.
Love.
Unconditional.
Metaphysical.
We understand not that pure gravity. 


Copyright Sandy@2014

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

A Christmas Gift

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All too dark except the embers
glowing one cold Christmas after another
rocking to smells of cedar memories
my windows laden in flakes of snow
soft glow of crossroads left behind
unearthly hours haunt my awakened soul
this is a time of renaissance
and freedom no longer is surreal
no pain are wounds raw
I scoff and laugh at them
this is just a healing of the divine kind
this beautiful day
my journal is on the final lines
…until it is a positive day remember,
it isn’t yet just time. 

Copyright Sandy@2014

Monday, November 10, 2014

Life's Design

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Time has ravaged,
men have tried to yoke,
there is no going back
no slave will I ever be
no pain or obligation
will ever buckle my knee
I have had my moments
of anguish and torment.
I choose to be
no prisoner
of wars I have survived  
Butterfly sitting on bare shoulders
Sand dots bare knees
it’s a marvelous day
to traipse at the beach…
waves kiss pink toes  
little bubbles
stick and skirt around, retreat
to ships somewhere at sea…
salty waters kiss the face,
burn kohl clouded eyes
there is no taming the spirit
nor rowdy hair
the earth is a refuge
the sky my dream.

Copyright Sandy@2014

A Soldier's Epitaph

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You mocked my being
while I stood cold,
my toes gangrene eaten,
watching for you night after night.

You taunted my mother, my father, wife and child
when they pleaded with you
year after year post
that twenty one gun salute you gave me in respect.

You questioned my love and servitude
as enemy lines I checked
calling me names and that someone
who ate the money you paid in tax.

Your vision of a future
stood on my hope-filled dreams
of holding my family one last time
before I take a bullet for my nation.

Dreams, youth inclusive, deaths
are simply mirages,
sharp brightness of blinding snow,
jungle walks where I may step on a mine.

I chose this life. I am
just a simple soldier walking the halls of death
for the rich, the powerful,
the celebrated and the common man. 

Copyright Sandy@2014

Ambrosia

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Kitchen windows watch
clinking of bangles stir
folding in love and laughter
as conversations light up a fire
to stoke and warm
endear hearts
…photographs barely tell the story
to an audience strange
what came of the cheeky grin
or the heady intoxication
of the glass of siren red wine
or an intense gaze laden
with ambrosia of food divine. 

Copyright Sandy@2014