Sunday 26, 2012 Sunday Whirl

Wordle #71

The Gift

Day grows late

Dusk meets

The dark of night

I search for your trace

You are the operator

That links past and present

The essential recipe

For communication

Written with a pencil

Or drawn with a piece of charcoal

On scrape of paper

Left near the fence

Now all is forgiven

A chain of roses

Or empty words

Heavy with sweet scent

Of heartache

My gift to you

Tuesday August 21, 2011 Musical Notes

Musical Notes #3

Based on Leonard Cohen’s, Joan of Arc, sung by Jennifer Warnes

Joan of Arc
Into the opening she rides
Mounted upon her stead
War weary
Dressed in white

Joy in solitude
Beneath the smoke
Fire admires her pride
Mounted upon her stead

He sees the
Glory in her eyes
War weary
Found his way into her heart

Late one night
Into each others’ arms they fell
Dressed in white

Now the flames no longer follow her
But in Her heart they burn
Mounted upon her stead
War weary
Dressed in white

Sunday August 19, 2012 Sunday Whirl #70

Sunday Whirl

Memory of Winter’s Cold Breath
The morning breaks
Like a crystal goblet
Shattering to the floor
You are there
On the tip of dreams

The world of the mesa is tinted
A vivid pink by early morning light
Tiny sparkles glitter
Gently nick memory bubble

Drifts of snow from years past
Split past and present
The tide rises
Waves of memory
Wash over me
Crash to the shore

There is nothing to be fixed
Tinny sounds of church bells
In faraway distance
Prelude to coming of
Winter’s cold breath
Insidious down my jacket
Freezing limbs
Which never seem to wake

Sunday August 12, 2012 Sunday Whirl

Sunday Whirl


Along the wall

In shadowed alcove

Past and present meet

Memories flood in

Maps are drawn

Dreams dwindle

Images spin

Invisible becomes visible

Thoughts ricochet

Slowly coming into focus

No longer the curvaceous

Girl you were

An old woman now

With narrow shoulders

Dressed in blue velvet

You hum to yourself

As you draw the lace across your face

The warped fabric of your life

Still strong on the loom

Note:  I saw a woman in Santa Fe, faded beauty.  She had only one eye, and had smudged mascara on the closed eyelid…dressed in blue velvet.  She found her way through the crowd to the old spanish plaza, and sat on the first empty park bench and opened her lunch.  Her image went deep into my soul, and I have been trying to find the way to write about her.   She was like an old moth, drawn to the light and life of the plaza.
Annell Livingston

Saturday August 11, 2012 Writing Challenge

Out of Paint
Headed south
Taos in the rearview mirror
Thinking of you
Wonder where you are

Sunflowers bloom yellow
Along roadside
Rocks lie in wait
For someone to carry
Them to new places

The New Mexico
Sky a pale blue
Shrouding mountains
On the horizon

Yellow sign marks crossing
For Mr. Romero’s cow
Evergreens gather
In the foothills

Buffalo, elk jerky
And pinion nuts
Sold along roadside
Winding down
Into the canyon
Following the Rio Grand
All is lush and green

Near the river
Trees grow tall
A short distance away
Ancient old trees
Stunted in their growth
The sun bakes and cracks
The surface of the earth

Without water
The desert is austere
Clings to life on the edge

Emergency trip to Santa Fe
Paint-box empty
No paint for
What seems a “lifetime”
The art supply store is
Permanently closed
For the artist
Without paint
Life is austere

Summer Writing Challenge

July 5, 2012 Sunday Whirl #68

Sunday Whirl #68

 Taos Mountain

In Site of Taos Mountain
I wake
All is quiet
I navigate a pure course
The large purple sage
Near my front door
Hums with the activity
Of bees –yellow and black
The sun shines endless summer
Sets fire to desert floor

Stop…take a breath

Along the way
To the store
Thistles bloom lavender
In dried yellow fields
Sky a broken-hearted blue
Links to missing you
Marrow deep
Strangled tears
Gulping air

Stop…take a breath

Clouds coast
From west to east
Without anchor
Elephants, angels
Puppies and fandangos
Sounds of guitars
Drift across the mesa
Indigo evenings
Hide ports among the sage

Stop…take a breath

From the deck
The moon a golden coin
Dangling aloft
Just out of reach
A child’s game
Pitch the ball
Red Rover, Red Rover
Fireflies flicker
Thunder rumbles
Pens scatter across the floor

Stop…take a breath

I stand by the rail
On my cheek I feel
Your cool desert breathe
Long imprinted
Upon my soul

Stop…take a breath

Sternly you ask
What about the body
What to do
Set fire on the desert floor
Scatter my ashes here
With the Grandmothers
In site of Taos Mountain
My heart sinks to think of
When I will not be
But… I will be happy
To be a part of all eternity


Note:  I realize I have created a different journey, than perhaps Brenda had in mind, with her holiday aboard the houseboat, but who knows where the words will take you?  I decided to make the “words” a dark red and bold, and then to highlight in color the “color words,” just for fun.

Note:  My blog has disappeared.  I am at a loss?