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

Yet, 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❤️