The Solitary Walker

I have been so captivated and lost in moments of recollection these beautiful words have brought back to me, that I don’t want to part with them. I would love to share this reflective poem of gratitude, by revivedwriter.

revivedwriter

Happy World Poetry Day, fellow readers / writers! This is the first I’ve heard of it, but that’s fine because I’m always up for celebrating poetry. The poem I have today is for FOWC: Solitary and was also inspired by MLMM’s Sunday Writing Prompt: Lost. Linked with PSU’s Writers’ Pantry (which is where I learned about today’s special celebration 🙂 ).


The solitary walker,
Whether she is noticing
Flowers on the edges of concrete,
Or is fully immersed
In grass or tall trees,
Loves to get lost
Along those winding pathways,
Loves those many moments
Multiple yet precious,
When God smiles through
Nature, throughout creation,
When she again realizes
She is not solitary.

photo by Walter Sturn, on Unsplash

View original post

• Little Boy Blue • Poem


http://www.picturequotes.com/generations-quotes


Written by premonition apparently 😁 as I wrote this just prior to seeing this challenge. https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2021/03/21/sunday-writing-prompt-lost-march-21st/

It may not be really what is called for, mind you, as it’s not a story, but a short poem.



Lost little boy
Little Boy Blue
Lost in a land

Of fog and dark hue

Forever searching
But never found
Faceless bodies
Tangled and bound

Pulsing, throbbing, empty shell

Lost little boy
Little Boy Blue
Once Upon a Time
Beaten and bruised

By his own

Lost

Little Boy

Blue
Too



Whoa, ok so I just channelled this. I had written a poem called Lost Little Boy with some of the same lines, a few years ago and was trying to remember it but then, something took over (I pick up Energies etc) and it became something different; and much darker than I intended.

Interesting. I’m not living in the best place and there are some very negative energies around so perhaps I’m picking up from near by. Or I could be channelling from a very far out there energy; I’m a Medium. 🤔.

It’s short but I would like to hear any comments. Thank you!

Much love and gratitude to All 💚💫💙😁

Period.

A Poem Written by 15 Year Old Me 🙄

Just laying here and this short poem I wrote as a chronically depressed fifteen year old popped in my head.

It’s short, cliche and oh so tragic but I meant it, dammit. I was psychic from birth. 😂

I still have this saved; written in my neat, cursive handwriting on lined school paper. It’s smoothed out, soft and formerly crumpled.

The Key

Alone
Here I Am
Forever, will I be?

Love is a gold locket
And
I haven’t the key

😢

😉

No, I am not crying out for attention or sympathy. 😊. I just thought it may be, funny to post as something I wrote so many years ago.

Funny though how time goes by, yet things stay the same. 🤔. I have rewritten the last part of this post about four times now. It’s not getting better.

Chalk it up to being really tired. I will stop now. 😴

We Are All Broken

And now that I’m learning how to do a bit more in this program; I’d like to reblog the beautiful piece I was lucky to stumble upon. My Spiritual Hug, if you will, that I wrote about in my post, “I Fell Up and Landed Here”, March 15, 2021.

Copyright © Cindy Georgakas

Unique Times

Cracks
make us Human
Exposing
all our Colors
Beauty
Beholden!

We are all broken.
Each one of us has chips and cracks,
like the dishes we eat off of and cups from which we drink.
The Japanese call it kintsughi and consider this to be the gift of pottery.
We tend to disrespect our broken parts and throw them to the wind.
Make up cracks, and so does our skin.
Wrinkles form and we inject them to hide the flaws.
Nothing wrong with that, but it won’t make us perfect, because nothing is.
Bones break but are repaired with exercise, or screws and plates.
Hearts break and sometimes can be mended and nursed back to heath.
Other times it’s better to cry it out, cut your loses and carry on.
Glass breaks but is smoothed by the sea which we collect in jars and use to charm our homes.
Cars…

View original post 168 more words

° A Moment ° Prosery Challenge

Photo by Johannes Plenio from Pexels

Empty of thought, I take my evening coffee and walk to my little nook window to lose myself in the waning light.

Day into night; melding together as a seemingly endless existence. I am reassured of its pulsing life; its breath; it’s glorious desire to be, through my private viewing, each end of day.

I am lost in its beauty; the expanse of skies above. It is achingly beautiful and it pains me to not be a part of it.

I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.

Yet, I feel abandoned and long to be, home; as a colourful light in flow.

In stillness, I hold this moment. This miracle deserves respect; should not be marred by unrest or discontent.

My spirit settles. I soften. I smile. With a view like this, I can stay a while.

Ok, here’s my second entry for the dVerse challenge using the line from the piece titled, “Possibilities”.

I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.

My first entry, Fleeting Moments is way too long. My apologies. I just now finally figured out where the word count is! Yay me. Slowly learning this thing. 🤭

This entry is Exactly 144. 😁

Fleeting Moments (Prosery Challenge)


Feeling empty of thought, I take my evening coffee and walk to my little nook window to stare into the sky, my favorite place.

Morning, day, evening and night meld together as one seemingly endless existence; yet I am reassured of its pulsing life; its breath; it’s glorious desire to be, through my private viewing, each end of day.

I am lost in its beauty; the expanse of skies above. It is achingly beautiful and it pains me to not be a part of it.

I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.

I feel abandoned and long to be, where I feel is home; as a colourful light in flow.

The sky is a blaze in light that catches my breath.

I am ashamed to even try to use mere words to describe, but I will try, so not to be alone in this moment.

My sight is first drawn to just above the tree line.

Burning shades of pink that are both brilliant yet as soft as cotton, blend seamlessly with delicious shades of orange.

Shades of orange, ranging from the deepest, most succulent, you can almost taste the sweetness, to hot, blazing smokey fires.

Just below this kalidoscope of colour is a stoic, strong wavy band of indigo blue. It appears to hold up and offer support to the lightness and carefree fun going on just above it.

It devastates me in its gentle beauty and strength.

Far up, above the panorama, in a fade of blue I see three small puffs of cloud. They appear to be dancing above it all. They are free. We fly with the birds they laugh and call out. And indeed, they do. A few silent, soaring hawks pass by; royalty of above.

I am suffocated by my ineptitude at this moment.

I feel such a need to breathe this all in; to breathe the beauty and miracle of it all into my very body, into each and every cell.

The actual knowing that it isn’t possible, shatters me.

I am filled with such awe and gratitude yet crushed with a sense of not being able to capture and hold onto this beauty.

I could never capture this magnitude of glory in a painting.

A million photographs could never do this justice.

Now, no longer in the grip of the fading glow, I know it was never meant to be held on to. Never meant to be preserved.

It was simply meant to be shared.


I actually recorded the bones of this on audio a few weeks ago while having a meloncholic moment, staring out at the sky. Thanks to dVerse and all of you here, I’m finding my voice in poetry that I didn’t know I still really had. I’m enjoying this!

The challenge. Incorporate below,

“I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.”

— Wisława Szymborska, “Possibilities”
I feel it went well with the bones of what I felt. (I’m sorry if it is over the word count? I have no idea how to check that. I can’t find that anywhere 🤔)

Much love and gratitude to you all 💚

Poetry Time!

I’ve been reading some great poetry on here which has brought me back in time to when I expressed more in that style.

I was led to the DVerse Poetry Challenge and more wonderful poetry and even submitted my own entry for the Art of Being Human challenge.

So, I went digging and found one old poem of mine that I thought I’d share. It’s dated June 6, 2012.

They say there is a fine line between genius and insanity. As an artist, I support that statement. 😜.

Yet, that line exists for any of us who dare to be different; to not colour between the lines; to not just quietly fade away, but to stand tall and strong and make our own way.

Run! Run as far and as fast as you can from anyone who dares try to convince you to change your Spirit to match their Ego.

Or better yet, you stand firm. It’s your life, your path to create. Allow no one to stop your unique Self to Be You.

Oh, to be the same!

Such torment of flesh

Sought after in flashes

Of madness

To know madness

Is to be the

Same

To be insane

To be the same

As only a grain

Of sand

In an ocean of

Plain

In a field of

Grain

Ha!

If only they knew

To be sane

To be the same

Is to be

Insane

©

Poetry Challenge This Being Human is…

My first ever response to a poetry challenge from DVerse. Thank you for this. 😊

And thank you to Reena Saxena for sharing her own poem and alerting me to the info in the first place. ,😁

The Art of Being Human: Fishes & Feathers

This being human is a delicate, finely balanced dance.

This being human is dense, cold, heavy and hard. I can not breathe.

It is as foreign to me as feathers are foreign to the fish.

I have found myself floundering under the cold, dark sea.
While being human.

My once beautiful feathers, soaked through, matted, dirty and torn. While being human.

Ugly, rough scales of armor have grown and threaten to over take me. While being human.

With eyes closed, my human-ness fades. I remember mySelf. I smile.

I am Joy. I am Light. I am soaring in flight. I am Peace. I am Love. I rise from below, to above.

Copyright Tina Mastin Art

Message Received 😇

I started gaining insight and guidance into my own life about 8 years ago by using Oracle and Tarot cards. It was during this time of trauma that my life exploded in an amazing Technicolor Spiritual Awakening.

My Spiritual journey isn’t what this post is about but it’s definitely part of why I started a blog. Look for my Spiritual Journey stories, coming soon. Anyway, I digress.

I hadn’t pulled any cards for myself, or any clients, for that matter in a while so I thought I’d pull a quick couple a few moments ago. Nothing serious, no ‘spread’ or questions, just two or three, ‘whats up?’ cards.

I’m using the Doreen Virtue and Robert Reeves, Flower Therapy Oracle Deck. These are pretty, colourful cards of, you guessed it, flowers; and I’m feeling rather blah so I like to turn to them when in that mood.

My personal style is usually to shuffle and take the cards that pop out as I’m tuning into my Guides and HS.

My mood was pretty down, I must admit but this goes to show that active communication goes far beyond verbal. When we seek guidance, the language that’s spoken is emotion; what is conveyed through your heart is what is heard spiritually.

I didn’t speak any words as I shuffled. The first card that popped out, fell out face up in front of me.

Past Life Healing
This situation has been triggered by one of your past lives. Heal the past and you bring healing into the present.

Now, Past Life Healing is something I have been studying and working on for some time and am very familiar with. I was not surprised to get this card. I said, “Yeah, I know this. I’ve been trying. How? I don’t know how. How am I supposed to do that?”

Then I started to shuffle again and the second card fell out. I read it and laughed out loud. 😂

You Are Healed
The healing you’ve asked for is on its way.

That was fast! 😂. All we need do is clearly make our wishes, dreams and desires known. Now, I’m making light of this. Trust me, I know it’s not this simple but it can be this simple in theory and that’s one less thing to try and figure out or worry about.

I know my dreams, wishes and prayers are always heard. How they become manifest isn’t always how I wished them to, but there’s always a reason for it. Sometimes, I see that reason soon afterwards, sometimes a very long time passes.

These two cards, are personal to me, as is every reading I’ve ever done for anyone. They are individual and unique and meant only for the person receiving them. I know what my Guides are saying to me here, with these two simple cards.

More than the words written on the cards, I’ve got further confirmation that they are here, with me. They are listening. They understand. They love and support me and they are guiding me. All I need do is check in often. They are the family that you love and they are always there for you. 💚💫💙

These Boots Were Made For; Whatever Your Dreams Desire

Copyright Tina Mastin Art

Mother daughter relationships are complicated.  They are some of the best (Lorelei and Rory Gilmore 🤗)  and they are some of the absolute worst (Mommy Dearest).

My own relationship, with my mother while not in the latter, “Mommy Dearest” category (I don’t think so anyway. I’ve never seen it) is laughably far away from Gilmore Girls. 

I have struggled to ever feel she listens or hears me, let alone understands or appreciates me.  I have recently, through years of inner work on myself come to realize she is a narcissist. It’s an understanding that helped in other areas of my life as well.

I have an amazing, beautiful, talented daughter who is my world.  We, on the other hand used to watch Gilmore Girls religiously and I, anyhow, felt like a watered down version of the best mother, daughter duo ever. 🤗 At least I aspired to be.

Copyright Tina Mastin Art

I always vowed I would never be anything like my mother. I wasn’t. I can’t be. I know I am definitely not a narcissist but because of my own issues, our relationship has been rough over the years. It’s a tragic dynamic that you never want to happen but it just creeps on in there.

I had an illuminating message given to me recently in the form of a dream, from HS (my Higher Self) and my personal Guide/the Universe/God/Divine (insert your personal belief here).

The dream starts off with me yelling at my mother to help me.  (I have a lot of dreams where I’m yelling at my mother 😂). I have my right foot in my hands, trying to take off this lace up, knee high boot.  It’s stuck on and I’m falling over, trying to stay balanced.

My boots were just like these only black and the ribbon laces were pink.

My mother stands in front of me, looking over my shoulder.  I snap my fingers in front of her face.  “Hello?!!” She keeps staring at something else and ignores me. 

Message so far: I’m struggling. I feel off balance.  I’m asking for help from my mother who is not paying attention or listening. 

I hop off by myself and manage to pull the boot off on my own. 

Message: You have the ability to do things on my own, as you always have. You know she is not available to you; just walk away.

I put the boots back on the shelf and I turn around.  I say, “Watch this, my daughter will end up…”. Then I turn and sure enough, there she is; my daughter has both boots on!

It’s my one of my worst fears realized.  My daughter is now literally ‘walking in my shoes’.  Does this mean she feels as I always did with my mother?

Children see and absorb everything, often mimicking actions they shouldn’t without knowing it.

The mother daughter dynamic has been passed on to my daughter now.  She had been there all along, watching us.  And this is true; she told me this herself a few years ago; how she sees our interactions.

BUT.  My daughter, who in reality was a competitive figure skater, is skating with the boots!  (It’s a dream afterall). She has the biggest smile on her face too. 

I’m doing great, Mom!”

Final Message: So what I took this to mean is that she is able to take our ancestral dynamic and turn it into something better. These aren’t my ill fitting boots anymore; she’s recycled my painful experience and is showing me how to put a better ‘spin on it’.

The boots are still in the family (ancestral wounds take a long time to heal) and have been passed on to her but she isn’t me. I’m not my mother. And it is not the same with her and I. 

My daughter and I share an amazing, strong, very special bond.  We’ve gone through some tough times but we started on a really strong foundation.  I’ll never stop trying to fix what I feel I’ve broken but I think we are going to be okay.  She’s going to keep being her awesome Self and I’ll always be watching her, cheering her on; her biggest fan.