Guardian of The Threshold ~ Invitation to Poetry # 35

Every so often, Abbey of the Arts hosts a poetry invitation. She posts a picture and a theme and invites anyone to respond with poems, reflections, prose. Check the icon for more info. Read my submission below.

~ Note: I've chosen another picture, rather than use the picture Christine provided in her 35th poetry invitation. ~

Broken dreams of my ego

lay strewn at her feet ~

heaps of salt in the desert.

Full Moon Dreamers ~ May Flower Moon

Full Moon Dreamboards ~ a creative way to express what we wish to manifest in a particular month. Each month has a name, a this becomes the theme or inspiration for the dreamboard. For more on Full Moon Dreamboards, visit Jamie's site.

Full Flower Moon ~ May ~ The abundance of flowers at this time of year inspired the name for this moon, also know as the Full Milk Moon or the Full Corn Planting Moon.

This month Jamie asks us,  "What seeds will you plant this month? What do you want to bloom, with this flower moon?" 

I spotted May's full moon late Friday night. It hung in the sky, between the trees, like a silvery orb. As I stood in my driveway, in front of my tripod and gazing at the moon through my camera's lense, I could just feel her vibrant energy.

She did indeed appear to blossom in the night sky, casting a lovely glow on the blossom petals which carpeted the earth. In the distance, I spot a sea of blossom petals on the ground; each petal, a droplet which nature has released to make way for the sweet fruits of summer.

I wish to cultivate more compassion and grace in my heart.
I wish to capture the magic and flavour of each moment, the serenity and spirit of my surroundings, the colour and character of each day and bottle these for later use.
I wish to nurture and grow the seeds of inspiration that have germinated inside me.
I wish for my current creative endeavours to continue bearing fruit.
I wish for love, patience, acceptance, grace and humility to blossom within my heart and soul.

... I Shall Drink it and Always Be Full

Once upon a midnight drearie
I woke with something in my head
I couldn't escape the memory
Of a phone call and of what you said
Like a game show contestant with a parting gift
I could not believe my eyes
When I saw through the voice of a trusted friend
Who needs to humour me and tell me lies
Yeah humour me and tell me lies
And I'll lie too and say I don't mind
And as we seek so shall we find
And when you're feeling open I'll still be here
But not without a certain degree of fear
Of what will be with you and me
I still can see things hopefully

[refrain]
But you
Why you wanna give me a run-around
Is it a sure-fire way to speed things up
When all it does is slow me down

And shake me and my confidence
About a great many things
But I've been there I can see it cower
Like a nervous magician waiting in the wings
Of a bad play where the heroes are right
And nobody thinks or expects too much
And Hollywood's calling for the movie rights
Singing hey babe let's keep in touch
Hey baby let's keep in touch
But I want more than a touch I want you to reach me
And show me all the things no one else can see
So what you feel becomes mine as well
And soon if we're lucky we'd be unable to tell
What's yours and mine the fishing's fine
And it doesn't have to rhyme so don't you feed me a line

[refrain]

Tra la la la la bomba dear this is the pilot speaking
And I've got some news for you
It seems my ship still stands no matter what you drop
And there ain't a whole lot that you can do
Oh sure the banner may be torn and the wind's gotten colder
Perhaps I've grown a little cynical
But I know no matter what the waitress brings
I shall drink in and always be full
My cup shall always be full

Oh I like coffee
And I like tea
I'd like to be able to enter a final plea
I still got this dream that you just can't shake
I love you to the point you can no longer take
Well all right okay
So be that way
I hope and pray
That there's something left to say

[refrain] x 2

~ Blues Traveller

AHHHH ~ Classical Gas

~take a listen to an awesome piece of music!~

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Requiem for a Sunflower

Withered, weary

leaves begin melting

into autumn's embrace;

shoulders drooped,

heavy head now stooped,

she releases her petals,

they descend ~ floating 

 above an icy morning mist.

Her seeds extricate themselves

from their cloister.

Her crumpled and golden chalice,

now fully emptied.

Oh, poverty, what bliss!

photo: Christine Valter Paintner

poetry: Roxanne Galpin

On Being Roxanne

I have 465 published posts in this blog. These posts date back to January 2006, when I first began blogging. Those who have stuck with me since those early days will know what a restless creature I am, in trying to forge my Self. I started out as graffitti artist, then became whispering forest nymph, then mad malva blue, then velvet acid tongue or velvet acid explosion, then the pink reefer, then the red mantissa, then frizzy scissorhands, then wulfine, and now ... now I have come home. I am me ~ Roxanne Galpin, aka tinkerbell the bipolar faerie. I post my picture, my full name, and my geographic location. Why not? What have I to hide? Nothing, as in transparent. That's why I am home. No longer do I conjure up an image of some person that I wish I was. I can now just Be Roxanne. What bliss! My H-Factor rises.

One of my favourite bloggers from those early days left me this comment a few weeks ago ~ ”how come you keep reinventing yourself????????????? be content with one blog name; one avatar; one message!!!!” Well put, Ardlair. My response to him? “We are many.”

I have felt like an onion these past few years. Continuously peeling away a layer, only to find another one, obscuring this thing, this treasure, I seek. And so, I have expended much time and energy and effort peeling away a layer, existing within that layer for a time, and then peeling it back, and repeating the same cycle over again.

Each time, I’ve gotten closer to the truth. Each time, I’ve come closer to realizing the truth ~ ... Read the entire post.

[Cross-posted from H-Factor Chronicles.]

Rumpled Sheets

On the wings of veiled dreams 

I glide into a new day.

Sunlight, streams through

pregnant apple blossoms,

dancing.

Golden shafts of light
flutter upon

these rumpled sheets

that held us, 

together

through a stormy and ebony night ~

our amniotic sac,

the colour of golden wheat,

and scented with the sweet, earthiness

of life forged in eksatis.

Photo Credit: Christine Valters Paintner

Poetry Credit: Roxanne Galpin