Oh, to fly.
To fly away,
with the wind
on a breezy day!
To be set free,
where I can be
like that branch,
high in the tree.
I went for a walk,
in my forest today.
My first walk
since things were blown away.
The earth was still.
The ground was wet.
It was the best walk,
that I've ever had!
As the fog lifts
I begin to see,
all the lies
that have been told to me.
The little gull
up on the post,
she knows the one
who told the most.
Like a bird on a wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free
Like a worm on a hook
Like a knight from some old-fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee
(lenard cohen)
Pick a bouquet of wild flowers from the side of the road. Inhale the scents of the pinks and whites, the mauves and golds. Wrap the stems with string, and tie a bow.
Eat a big piece of chocolate cake. Allow the intoxicating aroma a warm cocoa to tickle your senses.
Take a walk in the forest and bathe in its goodness. Breathe deeply, sit quietly, and observe nature. Hug a tree.
Read your favourite book again. Remembering the journey of self-discovery and joy that it opened.
Write a poem. Share ideas, express ideas, and create imagery.
Dance like no one is watching. Be full of joy and let your spirit dance and sing.
Grab a canvass, a paint brush, and three of your favourite colours. Watch as your lines, colours, and composition light up what once was white.
We have this dead tree
in our yard.
When it died
I took it very hard.
For that beautiful
Norwegian Spruce,
I dug the hole.
I planted the roots.
It was a tiny sapling,
less than two feet high.
From a distance
you couldn't see it with your eye.
For thirty years
strong and high it grew.
Providing shelter and
shade anew.
Then came along
that ugly gypsy moth.
Their tiny mouths
chewing all the needles off.
Unlike the mighty oak,
this tree could not keep its health.
Instead, it died
all by itself.
Now it still stands
still tall and proud.
It's branches thinning
and dropping
to the ground.
Little birds
still on it perch.
Lots of bugs and insects
love its berth.
We'll leave it standing
until it falls down.
Providing nourishment
for everything around.
Why do I continue to return
to the same dry wells.
Never, there, has my thirst ever
been quenched.
The steam rises,
the river bed swells.
The cards are on the table
and everything is drenched.
Why do I constantly return?
Stay! the big mouth yells.
This time, I walk away,
my heart is wrenched.
The narrative has changed,
the way the story tells.
My soul,
it is entrenched.
I am leaving,
silencing the bells.
Imagine
The pink panther
Leaning on a lamp post
A fedora,
on its head.
A long, white,
ivory cigarette holder
in his hand....
You can not put a price
On peace of mind. (WP)
Let my life be a prayer. (KW)
I sincerely hope the young artist at this weekends festival listened to the lyrics of icon's songs.
Until next year…..
Playing in Harmony….
Until next year….
There was a pig,
and his name was Joe.
He had a new job
but he just wouldn't go.
They gave him a corn cob,
and they gave him a bed.
All he did
was slap himself in the head.
He said, 'I can't go!
I belong in the zoo!'
'Where I can be seen!
by people like you!'
So he smiled,
and he ran
to the zoo and said,
'Here I am! Here I am!
I AM YOUR MAN!!!!!!
Wish upon a wishing well,
A pocket full of sand.
I picked a bouquet of forget-me-nots.
They wilted in my hand.
An old apple head doll,
Pinched and pruned,
and impeccably dressed.
Lay on the floor
for a well-deserved rest.
Soft tiny triangles of fabric
Filled a plastic bag
'Merry Christmas,' she said
And my heart began to sag.
And the dresses drifting down
to the ground, turn into mud.
Triangle pieces
Land with a thud.
And the water is wet.
And the rain is wet.
Yet.
My tears run dry
That old familiar tune plays on...and on....and on...and on.
And time passes by.
I wanted to walk to the river today,
Just a little over two kilometers away.
But I could not take that first step.
My shoe, it would not move.
Somehow, over the years,
I have lost my groove.
As the tears rolled down my face,
I silently cried.
Like ketchup on a plate
Of old French fries.
I know the day will come
When into the river
My toes,
Will drum.
Until then
I will contemplate
How I ended up
In this ridiculous
STATE!!!!
Groovy Tales of a Well Adult 