We Share Something Beautiful

In all that we see around us, and in our world, does our wordflow, our paintflow, become affected?

We often see with our hearts – so how do we respond? I wonder at times if I should stop blogging.

I won’t replay the news but so many horrible things are happening. Racism, killings in the street, disease taking so many away, and an economy faltering.

How can I write, or attempt to write something beautiful in these difficult times?

Well maybe, just maybe that’s the best time to write, and create artwork.

We don’t turn a blind eye, yet we offer hope by sharing our hearts through our creations.

And hopefully……we share something beautiful…..with our world.

Amen. 

      

Writing and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

In the Mist of the Waterfall

In the mist of the waterfall, in the rush

of water cooled air,

a voice spoke softly, melting

my scars, breaking

the stones yet remaining,

within my heart

creating a new wing……

and then I lifted

into the clouds

once again.

       

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Wildflowers Calling Forth the Sun

We are made from many streams, aren’t we? pieces of a larger river twisting

through open fields, our lives as a meadow thirsting, for nourishment, with wildflowers….

calling forth the sun, to the mud on the shoreline, we sense, we learn our direction,

becoming the very grain we dream about, and allowing the wind to gently move

through us, in the fields.

          

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Note: This may sound mystical but it’s actually about our hearts and whatever faith life we have.

Streams Meditation

Streams often meander, turning, descending,

flowing into our beings,

blending

strengthening our rivers,

our thirst for spirit satisfied

our dreams for refreshing

being answered,

until oceans fill us

encompassing even sunsets

over the waves.

Wordflow.

    

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

In the Golden Blue of Dawn’s Horizon

In the golden blue of dawn’s horizon, the poet awakens,

searching the skyline

absorbing the colors,

while shaping the words,

shape shifting his fabric

for phrases

and verse, as he summons

his spirit wings,

to write it all down.

     

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

In These Woods

What words can I shape, to tell that in these woods

I am made strong?

That hope runs deep here,

through the veins of oak

and pine, and maple trees,

through the earth

lives the permanence 

the assurance of oneness 

where there are no shadows

to be afraid of,

how can I ever express Lord God

that I am never alone,

covered in the warmth

of the blue sky.

      

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Into the Rain

I’m dusting off my leather bound journal, finding my favorite pen, and I’ve put together a small stack of poetry books,

on the kitchen table, including one called, Hope in the Morning……and later a walk into the rain, down by the lake,

if it’s not too cold. I love how rain drops fall, on the water singing their own special music.

Right now though it’s time for some cheesy eggs and toast, dipping in my tea bag into a steaming cup

making English Breakfast tea. I love these rainy mornings……

I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but been taking one day a week to recharge. I work alot

so I find it essential, and maybe we were made this way, but I didn’t pick a particular day, it just kind of happened.

So on late Friday afternoons until sometime on Saturday I’ll disappear, but only a little. I have preplanned a couple of posts.

Thank you so much for reading!

Peace.

      

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies.