Poetry ~ The Road Home

Dear Readers,
This will be the final post on my blog. I’m shifting my focus to a new course of study on my spiritual path and minimizing all forms of social media. Thank you for your encouragement and support over the last few years. I wish you all continued success with your writing and creative efforts.

I leave you with one last poem as we approach Thanksgiving ~ The Road Home. We are all on a journey. Thank you for sharing the path with me.
Yours under the stars,
~ Sue

Shall we take the journey?
Can we go back home?

memories of a younger self
flood back when I’m alone

of a simpler time, on a joyful road
in the backseat of the family car

where sisters sang, laughed and played
and knew that home was never far

let’s take one last trip together
and make more memories to share

let’s sing and play like yesterday
let’s go home; I’ll meet you there

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Poetry ~ The Mystic and the Bard (A Fairy Tale)

Mystic and BArd

It was written in the stars and carved in stone
that a Mystic rule the heavens and a Bard rule earth’s throne

An alchemist and a dreamer, the Mystic’s magic cast a glow
inspiring the Bard to sing and lighting the land below

Roaring through the forest and bellowing over the seas,
the Bard charmed the Mystic, regaling in poetry

Beckoning the Mystic, the Bard stretched out his hand
but his feet were rooted in the earth and he could not leave the land

The Mystic descended from the clouds, but her efforts were in vain
she was bound to the heavens and could not enter earth’s domain

Their love within reach, they conspired with the divine,
transcending the laws of nature, the lovers’ fingers entwined

As their fingers touched, sparks began to fly
illuminating the stars, scattered across the sky

And with one kiss, pure magic emerged
on that starry night, when heaven caressed the earth

Poetry ~ Scattered

scatteredNothing here is broken

Nothing is out of place

Life is simply scattered

with no pattern

to embrace

But if you turn your head

and look briefly at your past

patterns will emerge

like a photo held steadfast

But don’t linger there

Don’t stop and stare

Don’t meander down old roads

Simply note the patterns
of your past

and let the back door close

For you can’t control the
scattered pieces that will

fall

like

raindrops

from the

sky

Your patterns are revealed 
when you tell the story
of your life

Change your story

Change the pattern

This is your puzzle
by design

You are the artist
and the sculptor

of the

scattered pieces
of your mind

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“If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change. ” ~ Wayne Dyer

Poetry ~ The Fog

Fog fills her head rendering her numb

there is nothing to feel, see or hear

save the rumbling chorus of the half dead

mutants crouched behind dumpsters

sheltered under blankets in doorways

hidden in plain sight

the unseen fog-filled beings of the night

a foreshadowing of a zombie apocalypse

induced by greed; sustained through apathy

by day the world is too loud, too bright

she cannot control the chaos in her head

she must find the fog to smother her thoughts

swallow the light and muffle the noise

her heart is filled with dread

she cannot force a smile

or look you in the eye

only through her light

burning inside

can she confront

the fog

that is taking

her life

This poem is dedicated to all the lost souls battling addiction. May you find your light❤️

Poetry ~ The Sound of Darkness

Are you listening
to the darkness?

whispering,

come closer
come inside

don’t be afraid
there’s no need to hide

close your eyes and listen
don’t tell me you can’t hear

the enchanting sound of darkness
whispering in your ear

for not all answers can be found in illuminating light

true insights are revealed in the quiet darkness of the night

“Life’s waters flow from the darkness. Search the darkness, don’t run from it.” ~ Rumi

Poetry ~ Last Light

Last Light

‘Twas half-past sunset when the sky lost its light
and we ran through the forest playing chase through the night

I lost sight of your shadow as you ran toward the woods
then the sky went black and I froze where I stood

the sound of the howling gripped my heart with fear
on that dark winter night when your shadow disappeared

two decades past, and I still fear last light
and remember in horror the sounds of that night

the night you went missing, into the howling sounds
lost to the darkness, to the woods, and never found

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Poetry ~ Beware!

Beware the skeleton key unlocking family lore
Beware the whispers behind closed doors

Beware the secrets on the diary page
Beware the fire fueled with rage

Beware the dark night illuminating your fears
Beware the sorrow that brings no tears

Beware the heart lacking desire
Beware the mind no longer inspired

But, most importantly,

Beware the monsters under your bed
for those are the monsters that live in your head

Poetry ~ Feeding our Ghosts

feeding our ghosts

The ancestors have arrived! Best stoke the pit!
Smoke billows from the beast ~ an offering heaven sent

The ritual has begun, the feast of ancestral ghosts
The bounty of the harvest stews as elders prepare the roast

Honoring our ancestors keeps their memory alive
Allowing the veil to open from this world to the other side

Ritual and tradition bind generations to their core
So feed your ghosts, make a toast ~ rekindle your family lore

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Poetry ~ The Langhurst Curse

Langhurst Curse.png

‘Twas four centuries past
since the family lost their sight
generations of charcoal eyes
that pierced the steely night

The curse was ancient lore
resurrected with each birth
the charcoal eyes of a child
born with the Langhurst curse

History tells the story
of witches who cast the spell
poisoning the eyes of a doll
and throwing it down a well

A cauldron filled with venom,
bitterness, and hate
contained a powerful poison
that sealed the family’s fate

But if the truth be known,
no curse could take their sight
the family’s hatred of witches
created the Langhurst’s plight

And to this very day,
the family drinks the witches’ brew
allowing the curse to blind them
to what the witches said was true

The Langhursts, like the others,
are blinded by their hate
passed down through generations
that seal their family’s fate

Look deep into their blinded eyes,
eyes as dark as coal,
for hatred is the powerful poison
that cursed the family’s soul
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