Ducklings in a pond

Birds fly overhead -
ducklings in a pond,
I learn to see the sky,
through the eyes of the universe.
Stars sparkle in the distance,
the sun shines inside,
my own drunk heart,
it is love that rules my mind.
My feet in shallow water,
my soul learns to walk,
on the reflection of the surface,
just like white swans.
The brushstroke of a wing,
as soft as cotton clouds,
why do crickets jump,
inside my own heart?
The wings that fly,
find the end of the road,
at the bus stop of rout sixty six -
only the lonely return home.
But the bird without wings,
evolves the given time,
in creativity, and perseverance -
alone is never alone.
Ducklings in a pond,
the years have made me young,
I cry a million tears,
until my home is in the stars.

Homebody

Where I lay my focus,

my heart makes a home,

to create,

either peace,

or absolute chaos,

and my world,

becomes like a solar system,

where everything turns,

like the planets,

around one sun,

forgetting that even a Milky Way,

is part of something,

greater than herself!

So, if I want to make a home,

in a place that lasts forever,

I have to lay my focus,

on something greater than myself,

where humility will teach me,

that when I am not in control,

the greatest peace will find me,

right in my own home!

Fallen petals grow!

Pink rose buds

covered in raindrops

like diamonds

dressing a woman.

Her bare skin exposed

against the elements

of the current season

waiting for the light

to make her bloom.

She dances on the wind

with her pink dress

swirling on the melodies

of angels singing.

Until one by one

her petals fall

into the hands of God

where love nourishes

them back to life

and growth starts

all over again!

It reminds me of growth

The scent of earth,
reminds me of growth.
Of breaking,
turning,
sweat on my brow.
Of digging,
of holes,
that need to be filled.
Of seeds,
and of life.
It reminds me,
of water,
now and again,
every other day,
or once a week.
Of pulling,
of weeds,
of earth,
underneath my nails.
It reminds me,
of waiting,
of time,
of patience,
and then,
the reward,
of all your hard work.
Of new life,
of birth,
of little by little,
every day a little more,
until all there is left,
is to bloom!

Midwinter

A rose blooms in the snow,
gently caressed by the sun,
who softly strikes the petals with her fingers.
Below ground life prepares itself,
for new changes in the spring,
as the acorns are looking for their owners.
I cry like an eagle across the Grand Canyon,
searching for water between the deep cliffs,
but the light feeds me from the inside.
My wings dance in the sky,
where my feet make pirouettes on thin ice.
Faith is believing in the greatest outcome,
like a rose blooming in midwinter!

All poetry posted on this page is mine! Please ask before using!
Thank you!

The Art of True Living

The withered flowers,
can only arise from their ashes,
when I can give them back,
to the dark earth.
So, I burry them,
deep within the soil,
for them to rediscover,
the art of true living.

Born from the ashes,
the red rose blooms in the summer,
and from the thorns,
I bleed the same color red.

The embodiment of joy

The embodiment of joy

Like a diamond hidden in the deep dark earth,
I am a child hidden in the heart of God.

A star sparkling in the night sky,
yet where it comes from,
and where it goes,
is unknown.

Even a magnifier or a pair of glasses,
cannot make an x-ray of my soul,
to unveil the secret mystery of who I am.

Protected is the scroll of knowledge,
even to those who desperately seek it.
Only the Heavens know my existence,
only they know who I am.

I am laughter.
The embodiment of pure joy.

Can you hear the child laugh in the Light?
Can you feel the celebrative vibration,
energetically fly through the sky?
Can you feel the love in the palm of my hands?

Invisible and often uncatchable,
I am a being,
I am a soul,
I am joy!

Nail it on that cross!

A flower growing between the cold stone rocks –
in temperatures that reach far below zero,
and where even the animals do not choose to live,
still survives on the strength within,
that searches for life in the midst of an expected death,
that is who I really am!

It is not the hope or the love that forces me to go on,
but the ever-present reluctancy to give up.
A faith that lives deep inside of me,
tells me everyday that there has got to be more.
More than this endless suffering,
more than this heart-wrenching pain,
that forces my pillow to catch my tears in the night,
and my soul to hide them during the day.

A Force that is bigger than all of this –
bigger than our entire universe,
is what the last piece of my heart holds onto.
All I hope for is that this Force,
takes my pain and nails it on that cross,
where it can die along with my tears,
to restore the hope,
born from love,
that establishes a fountain of joy,
within every corner of my heart!

Journey to the Past

Purple dresses reflect sunlight,
wrapped in red sashes they reflect the soul.
Golden bracelets start joyful music,
where feet dance to the melody of the heart.
I look at her auburn hair,
bouncing on the light steps of her life.
I hear her laughter like sweet melodies.
She is a reminder of a past life,
which formed the start of my current journey.
A trip to faraway places,
where sweet spices make me dream,
and foreign languages fill my heart with wonder.
I walk into the Ganges river and submerge,
to resurface in the river Jordan,
where I start my pilgrimage to Rome.
My feet dance on the sound of tambourine.
I fall asleep on relaxing soprano melodies.
This journey brings me back to life,
as past, present, and future collide,
in a beautiful array of colors,
that reflect every essence of my soul.
I am more than I currently know,
more real than any dream I ever dreamed before.
And as I await the gates of Heaven, I know,
my life was lived to the fullest,
in the utmost sense of joy!

Creative Minds

Creative minds

I walk the temple grounds,
in my jungle colored harem pants,
declaring the state of my heart,
to a summer blue sky.

Parrots repeat my prayers,
like an echo across the mountains.
My mountains,
that I have climbed,
millions of times.

If only I could fly,
holding onto the lianas,
like that fictive man from the jungle,
I would let my heart sing,
screams of joy across the world.

But maybe I was born,
for this meditative state of my mind,
creating her own jungle,
in her own fictive mind.

Sometimes the greatest reality,
is the one that captures you,
and holds you tight.
Where a firm grip on your heart,
tells you that this jungle you created
isn’t so fictive after all.

Believing in your own reality,
creates a connection,
to a supernatural God,
who created you,
in his own imaginative mind.

Sometimes the greatest reality,
is the one that you create yourself,
in your own creative mind,
where faith makes the impossible,
your greatest possibility,
in a sometimes fictive world.

This photo is made by me. So, if you want to use it, that is absolutely fine, as long as you give me credit! Thank you!