"The Gossips" from my "Victorian Series"


I am going to be working on new blogs for each of my series. The one I am working on now is "The Victorian Series".

found at:

http://kathysvictorianseries.blogspot.com/

This series is on my website www.kathysart.com as well

I just LOVE this email from my friend Shan. I was blue because I felt overwhelmed and like a 'do nothing' yesterday. He propped me up with these words. Afterwards I asked him if he would send them to me in an email so I could digest it. Here it is for you too, essentially anyway... if you want a bit of Shan magic!


Hi Kathy,

"Few things in life have such obvious correlation's but the name or the word 'Sucksess' is a description of what happens when you go down the rabbit hole to the wonderland of your dreams. You get sucked in and you have to confront alot of things and do battle with them to overcome the power they have over you. Some ideas make you feel bigger others make you feel small and the ideas your mother gave you are filled with guilt so spit those suckers out. If you can't live your life the way you want doing what makes you feel good, who's life are you going to live? When you surrender and stop struggling then the war is over and you can go back to doing what your here for. Its all so simple if we could just choose the life we want "BUT" We have to face our own demons and then sweep them sweep them away. Your light is bright and your work is good. Every-time you feel that guilt thing come up. Recognize it for what it is and give it back to the person it came from and then do something
nice for yourself."

Aloha

Shan

What changes us?

What makes us decide 'one day'.... that 'this day' we will do better?


'This day' we will smile on everything as if we were seeing it for the first time.
'This day' we will take time out for our own selves.
'This day' we will climb that emotional mountain that seemed inconceivable 'yesterday'.
'This day' we 'will' do what we had only 'hoped' we would do 'before'.

'This day' we will FLY.

BE PROUD!

PS I have decided to update my blog weekly instead of daily. I am going to spend more time smiling at flowers, petting kittens and noticing the present moment.

I took this picture at my One Woman Show in Kauai. I love it... the poet and the belly dancer... I am not even going to interpret it... I will paint it someday for sure though.

Last night I watched Oprah... up til 12:30 ... maybe you saw it?

Her theme this year is:

PROUD

What Have You Done Today?

Make Yourself PROUD!
__________________________________________________________________
Taken from her website www.oprah.com

What Oprah knows for sure, she says, is that your proudest moments are almost always about what you can do for someone else. "When you give, it creates a circle," Oprah says. "And it comes back to you, and you get even more in return."
Heather* says that she wrote the song "PROUD" to remind herself to think of others. "It's about little things that you can do to make somebody else feel good," she says. "Sometimes we get out of bed and we're not very happy. I think that rather than make myself happy, I should go out there and make somebody else happy."
____________________________________________________________________
*Heather Small sang her song on Oprah show and it will be the theme song and show theme for this season.


I think this puts a wonderful focus on living and is possibly the best reason to be living.. to feel the present moment and to make ourselves proud by doing something... even if it is tiny.. that is good. I am going to try anyway.

Most of my writing has been from old poems of regret... I have come to know that as I type them out each day and post them on my blog. What a wonderful learning experience. I may still post them but I will understand the difference in myself more because of it. Onward right? Optimism is a wonderful thing as is giving.

BE PROUD!!

"Darkness"

Uneven ... the glow
a glow ... supposed
a tool shown to mystery guests
and traveling pests.
Unraveled in harvested moons
your tunes
wrestled tunes
yet oh ... my captured wounds.
I wrap them around cellophane hearts
a tour ... be proud
somehow lost in a crowd
glasses high
toast to the note-cards
that sort out my mind against hypocrisies
I sort out my mind ... in the end

PS
There are days of unregistered rhymes
and they seem to be advancing upon undying darkness.

"The Writer"

He is the writer of beautiful songs
he strokes out my passions
from evening till dawn
he weaves through my memories
and the playground of life
settles my balance
and evens my tide.

Last night I won a "Juror's Choice Award" for my 48x36 oil on canvas painting "Denny" at "The All Hawaii Juried Fall Exhibition 2005" presented by the East Hawaii Cultural Council in Hilo, juried by Carol Yotsuda.

"Now"

I seem to have new pathways to assemble.
The steam reaches out and irons out the discontentment of time.
I step past memories and longings and reach out.
Life is unclear
impossible to be real.
Days go by and I find myself in a new reality,
a reality of happy.
You lend me the fragrance of freedom,
the air of pause,
in the water and substance there is a tranquility I have never known.
My soldier of old,
my lament,
I am always so afraid they'll take you from me.
I dare not completely touch today
or sleep and find you gone,
and learn you have never been with me at all.
So I smile on the pathway
maneuver my continence.
I cannot live in the shadow of regret
and not see what is right there in front of me.
This spirit being now and present, not meant to be over analyzed.
There are doors belonging to freedom
and they all have special handles.
I can decorate them, understand them, hold them, charm them,
or let them go.

"Tiny Remains"

Unconnected thoughts that ring in much decay,
where the survivors scramble and tears never end.
Emotions run high and moods decide,
generosity is a cure for strangers,
but you and I..... divide into equal parts,
and squabble over tiny remains.

"So Goes The Time"

a song:

Dreams encircle my mind
live up to promises
stolen by time... take back the time
when dreams were young and you were mine.

Slide into shadow and waves
remembered by some
some.... who were young
remember the time, remember the time?

chorus:
Cherish the simple
the mood in my stead
reach out to love songs
stroking your breath.
I will be there
in all that you do
in all that you dream
and don't follow thru.

Dreams collide or abide
testing their way
some... will decay
but I... I miss you, the closeness of you.

A blow delivered by fate
she smiles and eyes know
and dance...to the rhymes
but I...will always remember the time, the time.

And so goes the time
so goes the time
and so goes the time.

"Those Sensitive People"

a continuing story....

The colony of Emerings stayed on at the pond, not being able to return to the sea, because they found themselves in a weakened state. It was little enough to endure though to be around Dallyanne, their treasured land creature and friend.
Emerings thrive from the glow of shimmerings. Shimmerings being the greatest treasure that brought not only health but insight to achieving well being; the element that stokes the inner child when it feels abandoned. The shimmerings that had been lost from a previous expedition were found for the most part, but not completely intact. Until they resolved how and what to replace missing pieces of the shimmerings with, they had no plans to leave the pond. Shimmerings were made up of radiant light that glowed with the the essence of rainbows. They healed not only mind and body but lifted the spirit... the spirit being life itself. What was missing in the shimmerings was the full spectrum of radiance. This was not something that they could find from a vine or mist of the air, it had to come from an inner spark of someone or something that stood out in the darkness. This might be found from a human who had transferred their worries into optimism and embraced extraordinary ideas. This was seen in Dallyanne. The question in the Emerings hearts was whether or not to take it from her.

to be continued....

"Sunsets"


She travels with magic on a mystical ride.
She walks in the moonlight
and covers my mind.
She travels the road down past the pines,
where the mist meets the morning
'fore the river turns ice.


We gather up petals
from the flowers that have died.
She travels with magic
on a mystical ride,
pointing out sunsets
and ponies to ride.
So just see how it goes
how the magic unfolds
how the children you've known
lend out sea covered rhymes
still fasting
but no longer cold.

"Autumn Has Seasoned Me Well"

Content to be understood in a casual way and yet...

He was a most attentive healer.
Every space and corner he defined in me.
I so tastefully wore a crown.
No one around.
Stayed and stayed...
he remembered he had not seen me in full bloom.
All things considered I should have waited to hear the rest,
but patients gathered in the hallways,
wounds too deep to mind.
Who can contend with such a lover?
At least I know that I don't heal well.
There were reprieves I had not considered,
but Autumn...
Autumn has seasoned me well.

"A Child"

She sang forth with an elegance unknown to her,
like swimming in a trail of holiness.
How lightly she fled
and oh...
I wish that I could be her.
All my life
a child to my eyes...
never longing to be beautiful... only free.
There are blue spaces
crowds and lines
a thousand places.
The mist that covered her
did not effect her glow.
She knew exactly how to weave
between the frowns.
Might I tap into the wind?
Move to enchantment
noises to scold?

"Smiles"

So many moons
You see them...
all cut out for you,
don't you?
Do wear the armor
it's paid for you know...
it's for you.
You have such a knack
at seeing wide spaces.
I envy that part of you.
Wide spaces
be careful...
you know.
I've had a glimmer
of such spaces
rest on my cheeks,
move past my forehead...
a tearful experience.
Hope for arrival...
now I only look past smiles.

I thought I was secure
but I tripped
and noticed you had fallen long ago
alone.
I realized that if I hadn't tripped
I would never have noticed.

"They're Friends You Know"

They're friends you know...
entangled memories
extracting old memories
unleashed powers of camaraderie.
They're friends you know...
and in their hearts they hold hands.
But goals are uncertain
so easily obscured.
Beggars scramble
toward unconnected hopes
indulging in all the moments
that stars did not sparkle
or shoot forth
and though it may be uncertain
their today
after an emotional measuring
tomorrow they will say,
"We're friends you know."

"Alone"

Speak to the wise she said.
Offer your soul... in hand.
Who listens to the bleeding heart?
Who travels past the moans and starts?
Medals pile up for the non dreamers.
Medals cover schemers
and in the distance I hear red roses moan.
Speak to the bleeding heart.
Speak to the room cold and dark.
I cover my eyes
and smooth the blankets
comfort my mind.
After all...
who really wants to discover
the motives of our calls?
We speed past souls that whine,
layer their layer of motives.
I won't sleep in the distant cold,
focus on colors ... yellow now old.
If gentleness flows through the rivets of old
I'll turn over... grow alone, turn to stone, alone.
Leaves of many colors fall,
cover up
while someone calls.
Secrets are unending.
Yet... we can hide a child with care.

I wrote this little song... about a geiko pooping in my eye... true story!! I have never done a little painting of a geiko so I post these 'cause they are cute...like my little song. Happy day!!

"Shit Happens"

1)
Geiko geiko on the ceiling
waiting for that special feeling.
Turned his head and he smiled at me
as I layed down and watched TV.
Then he gave a little sigh
as he dropped his do do in my eye.

Chorus:
Isn't that the way things go (2 times)

2)
I watched a man walk past my window
head turned down
he was on the go.
He never looked up
to view the sky
but he'll never know do do
in his eye.

He'd say,

chorus

Heads up, stand up, get in line
move out, get out, watch the signs.
If you move through life
and ignore the view
you'll never know
what geikos do

say now,
chorus

"Break Not Your Heart"

a song:

1)
There will be times
and treasures I've known,
there will be rivers
melted with snow.

2)
There will be dreams
attached to autumn leaves,
there will be springtime
and reasons to flee.

Chorus:
And break not your heart
hold back the wounds
however inflicted
they were not meant for you.

3)
There will be seas
only airplanes and ships adorn
there will be silence
for a sorrow too worn.

4)There will be sighs
as the ruler points wrong
yet... there will be comfort
in the rainbow of song.

Chorus

Break:
Time passes by
I plot to hear you call
and yet I know why
and have accepted it all.

Chorus

1996 Kauai

On Kauai, where I lived until last year, there used to be this man who stood at the beginning of Kuamoo Road. He was always there... rain or shine. He had a lawn chair and sleeping bag. He always looked as if he was waiting for someone, always with an expectant look on his face. I would often see him with a styraphome container with lunch or dinner so he must have had money or someone helping him. I heard there were people who helped him. He was there for years. I moved back to California for awhile and when I returned to Kauai he was gone. I heard he got too hostile to people and was made to leave.

I wrote this song about him and another woman I met while in California. I suppose it is really about us all or who we choose to be at any given moment.

"Kuamoo Road"

a song:

There is a man who waits
at the stem of Kuamoo Road,
and he is waiting
for his life
to begin.

There is a woman who sits in the dark
and she drinks all alone,
she is waiting for
her life
to end.

I stand alone
in shadows
and I sketch out their frames
sitting near
in the secret
of disguise.

I'll be a lilac
be at least a petal
or an amaranth
in their wake
I will treasure all
the lessons found
as I fly
so very far away.

Feb. 2000
Imperial Beach, CA

"Those Sensitive People"

a continuing story:

Standing at the rim of the pond one would never know of the magic below. The light, while standing above, appeared to be glisten from the sun. The castles were of a clear jelly like substance. The Emerings were soft creatures who knew nothing of sharp edges, thus everything they cared for or encouraged to grow was gentle and soft. Veins of thin turquoise, rose and lavender light held the structure up and lit the Emerings pathway. Each turret bore a different color. Columns and banisters of pink and white lotus petals at the entrance of the castle bore deep emerald shimmerings of light. The same emerald shimmerings that set inside the stephanotis blossoms on Dallyanne's daily crown. Deep down at the bottom of the pond, the Emerings dug out a tunnel of some 5000 yards. It was lined with the same jelly like substance that constructed the castle. It appeared to be headed toward the ocean. While Emerings were capable of taking on the form of a human they were more comfortable in the water.
Dallyanne wrapped her soul around the castle, the Emerings and her life at the pond. She saw only the best side of things and held the character of the Emerings in the light and saw only purity of kindness. She never perceived another side or of their full capabilities. Though their hearts were pure and kind she underestimated their strength and determination.

to be continued....

This is one of the images I did for Hay House Inc. It is one of the cards in the deck for Anne Wilson Schaef's "Women Who Do Too Much" CARDS.

"Acceptance"

a song:

If waves come down and crash on my head
and drown me in a world that goes unsaid,
If waters rise in a carnivorous fashion
and I fail to reach my hand into the air,
If I suffocate my dreams and visions
and generate only enclosed and tidy thoughts,
If I jump into empty spaces without question,
If I walk into the fire leaning towards the heat,
Will I somehow be acceptable
by the tens and thousands of heartbeats?
Will your eyes smile on me?

Oh please
if there be a cure to me
can I reach it in some other manner?
Would it be acceptable to just try harder?
Might there be ... a battery
to connect to me
so I won't make a mistake?
One that forces me to stand up right.

But wait...
Who are you
to measure me so?
You who stands but never grows
Ahh someone I no longer choose to know.
Your eyes do not see ... everything.

"Reality"

a song:

Magic motions used to set my soul ablaze,
until I noticed in the most spectacular form
that little heartbeats
are most easily swayed
and had most certainly swayed me.
My only restitutions being
the crudeness of reality.
A springboard to what I thought would be
the very end of me
turned out to be
the very depths of me.
Oh... unkind blow
vexation of my heart
the knife that penetrated ever so deeply
gave me reality.

"Before We Go"

(a poem for Diana and Robert)

The heros of selfish wounds
owned by summer
not forgotten by fall.
As silent as glances
down a long dark hall.
Their end is as painful as their deed,
chosen so hastily.
There are looks I'd like to share,
silences I would treasure.
There are smiles I'd like to say
silenced now forever.
Their children picked flowers at the neighbors
running across the street saying,
"Before we go, before we go."
Heros are owned by children,
if they choose to remember them that way.

"Maggie B"

This little boat is taken from one of my favorite children's books, "Maggie B"by Irene Haas. It is the dearest sweetest little book. This is the third little boat I have made, the other two were given away to a friend. Some things are meant to be gifts. I keep this one just for my imaginings. I can sail the deepest sea anytime it fits my fancy.

"In You"

a song:

1)
In you... I saw a vision fleeting by,
no tale nor reason to de-nigh
a dream so dim
yet waiting to begin.

2)
In you...the ships could sail behind your eyes
encase a world or hasten time.
The color blue...in you
casts another hue.

3)
And you... escaped my grasp
I cannot tell
If all is lost I wish you well
another time
where stories never rhymed.

4)
In you... I saw a vision fleeting by
in songs, in notes, in passers by,
a stories end
no longer to pretend
in you.

"Those Sensitive People"

a continuing story....

It was not only Dallyanne affected by the magical natures of the Emerings, the Emerings themselves were in turn captivated by Dallyanne. Her songs, her gayety, her tears when she felt sad. Dallyanne was a lovely creature herself. She had long locks of light blond curly hair that tussled to her tiny waist. The Emerings were taken in by her as she with them which is why they decided to reveal themselves to her. Sometimes one just knows that it is OK to trust someone. Dallyanne became so entwined with the Emerings her skin became like satin and glowed as soft as the moon on a still night. She was blessed by the Emerings to be forever young; a gift so pure of heart, yet a gift that would one day betray her in the cruelest of ways.
The Emerings might have seemed to some to have foolish hearts. They believed in total love and fulfilled hope. They were optimistic about every undiscovered corner and anticipated only good things. They frolicked in giving Dallyanne pleasure. They would greet her with delightful little giggles as if to say that Dallanne was the brightest point of their lives. Some planted moss for her feet to walk over, just so she would feel it's softness between her toes. Countless orchids were planted in her honor and she named them all. The Emerings stayed up 'till the wee hours of the morning planning little games and surprises for Dallyanne. She was always greeted with a wreath of orchids and stephanotis filled with tiny green emeralds to set upon the head of their princess.
Dallyanne loved her dear little friends with equal affection and attention. They were to her that spark of childhood one always fears of losing. The innocence of playfulness that keeps dreams alive. In them she savored all the magic that spring brings up in the soul when running through meadows. Pretending that the leaves of trees were truly little boats that could sail the deepest of seas right to eternity. There was tranquility no matter what the world outside would whisper... as the world always does.
In the Summers Dallyanne would slide down sleek rocks that met the crisp jeweled water in the pond. The pond was so clear that she could easily see every detail of the little castles of the colony below.

to be continued.....

"Where to Begin'

a song:

Complex emotions
tight fisted seas
turn around
be found
in a circle of hostilities.
Up in the air
no one cares
be free.. to be
anywhere.

I can't tell you all that you need to know to do
but I can tell you that the road goes through.
I can tell you what I mean
from my soul.
I can tell you
and you need to know...

So I can breath... again.

I fell in... to where to begin.
I fell in... to start again.

I need to breath... again.

Hand me those pages of notes
that I've told you.
Tell me the story.. though old.
I fell in
to the path overgrown
I fell in
to where to begin.

I need to breath... again.

"Find Me"

Teach me to fly.
Two rooms divide me.
Hoards of voices lead me
guide me
but find me... I can't.
I am not solid
heat me
I'll melt.
In a single day who can say
if there is a chance
to take my breath away.
Find me... I cannot find me.

To all the days that disappear
to all the ways that interfere
to all the dreams that elapsed ... unspoken
to all the sacred moments forever ... broken
if I am yellow
if I am brown
if I am sky
if I am gloom....

if I am you?

"The Hero Wore Black"

The hero wore black.
The echo bore gifts,
and no one knows
the broken hope
as much as you and I.
Shadows dancing
in the dark.
The honorable heartbeat
in the chest.
Do you know I hope for you?
Save hope for you?

"Pebbles"

She knew there was no reason
no need to cover her eyes.
A plume in her hat
a disguise
confusing to the wise.
Distracting the mounting current of doting menaces
jealous hearts engage in such trivial accessories.
An accessory
he supposed
and was kept off guard.
With eagerness
pebbles in his hand
and in the current
of such obscenities
he drifted.
Empty spaces
an elevated view
sentimental tunnels
across the moon
and pebbles turn to roses
at the back door
where he was happy
to hold contented
yet unexpected remains.

"Self Portrait"
24x18 oil on canvas


Today is sign up day for 'Wild Whims of Pahoa" Art Show. I will be receiving paintings from 10-4 at the Aloha Outpost Internet Cafe in Pahoa, HI. This show will open on October 14 and close on November 27.

"Those Sensitive People"

a continuing story....

Dallyanne went on to describe when she first sighted the Emerings.
"I first saw glimpses of them by the river bank.... and you know, the River Sastoon flows quickly and rests then quickly and rests again and then joins with the Sea of Ganezia. This is where the Emerings live. A small colony of Emerings had ventured out to collect shimmerings, which are tiny tokens of life that the river forgot to return to the sea. The colony had made a temporary home at the bottom of my secret pond. Because of the Emerings presence orchids grew and nature flourished. It is their gift back to the land whenever they venture out. Little spots they share their essence with. I used to go to the pond to sing songs and write poetry. I often took my watercolors and painted the images of all the orchids I had met there."
The Emerings had indeed fallen in love with Dallyanne as they watched her lovingly stoke the mood of the orchids who lived there. After a period of time they decided to trust her and make themselves visible to this swan like creature named Dallyanne. One by one their tender little hearts were revealed to her much the same as the orchids. As she had carefully named and cared for each and every orchid she also tenderly cared for each Emering... one by one, a friend at a time.
to be continued....

"Neon's Obsession"
18x24 oil on canvas
available in giclee $235.
also available in prints, mugs and t-shirts








"Neon's Obsession" is also posted on my other blog kathysartcom.blogspot.com today. That blog is going through all of my work, posting prices, artist impressions and a related poem. "Neon's Obsession" is part of the "Walk On The Wild Side" series. It is mostly about the adventures of 'Neon Blue'. A poem about her is posted on that blog with more paintings from the series. "Walk On The Wild Side" series is being focused upon first on that blog.

"Neon's Obsession" makes my mind buzz with all kinds of scenarios. What happened here and what is she thinking? What will happen later?

I love the whole playfulness of this series. I think it offers an adventure without traveling. I cannot wait to get back to it!

This poem is by Anis Nin... it is the only poem on my blogs not written by me. I post it because I love it.

I wept because the process by which I became a woman was painful.
I wept because from now on I would weep less.
I wept because I had lost my pain
and I was not accustomed to it's abscence.

Anis Nin

"Miles Away"

a song:

Chorus:
It rains miles away, miles and miles away
It rains miles away, miles and miles away

1)
I don't want to steal your dreams away.
I don't want my presence to intrude...
on you.
I used a compass to find this place.
I used the moon to guide me through
your moods.
You say...
you're only miles away.

2)
She smiled and said, "Well yes I know,
there's an element that seems to grow,
in all of us.
I think you've learned
to talk very far.
You give the feeling that your sorrow never ends,
but it's not as if the rain didn't fall here too,
when it fell on you."

Chorus

3)
There is an element of conscience,
that keeps blowing thru cool winds,
and I think if you don't stop to listen,
I might lose before I win.
New things are hard to handle.
It's unclear of what's to gain,
But after all
its' like you say
you're only miles away.

Chorus

"Denny"
36x48 oil on canvas
Denny and I were high school sweethearts. We found each-other after 30 years. We are working on a book about our amazing and romantic tale.

Miracles do happen...

I wrote this poem way before we got back together. A lot of the poems I post of sadness are from the time I was not with Denny and missed him. We have been married for 8 years TOMORROW! I still write and post my sad poems. People used to comment about the fact that all of my paintings felt sad to them... and asked my why... I would say, "What is interesting about happy?" I still think that is true to a point. Who doesn't love a beautiful tragedy? It's romantic and perplexing. I am not sad anymore like this poem written so long ago. But there are moments, and everyone has them. There are also flowers and blue skies with big white puffy clouds to remind us that everything has it's place and is actually in perfect time.


"Me Without You"

In all my dreams
I never imagined me without you.
I wandered through my life
and I would always see you.
I counted on your timing
your smile
you caught my soul
and found me off guard.
Must you still lean on my soul?
Pull my insides
'til I lose all control?
and then...
take what becomes a prize to me
and leave me so alone?

Such an expense I paid
finding me without you.
I am off balance
I can hardly breath.
I never included the outcome
of your leaving...
leaving me without you.
I am a broken container.
I bare no excuse.
I cannot stand on my feet
nor hide my despair.
I am the tear in my own eye.
nowhere to start again
no step to begin.
The smell of emptiness
is a smell I cannot bare
a room so vacant.
I loath myself
that I should fall apart so.
As if you were the only person
to verify my breathing
the only cure
to my lapses of continuity
Every part of me
has taken a separate direction.
I awake in the night
alone and empty.

There is nothing more alone
than to wake in the middle of the night
no one to reach out for
no comfort to find.

I am afraid that I will wake
and there will be
nothing left of me.
A collection of clutter
or a speck in your eye
marooned
an after thought.
Reflections that find me
so un-groomed.
Little squares of reason
tiles on the floor.
Ushered in are spokesmen
to declare
part of what I already know.
On every corner
there is sadness
we all know.
In every person
on every occasion
a dimmer glow.
Should it trivialize my ache?
In all my dreams
I never imagined
me...
without you.

"I Fall For You"

a song:

1)
You could have had my soul for free
Never needed to pay
just to be here with me.
You always had a way
Roses for breakfast
and sleeping 'til noon
You...
me with you.

2)
You ask me how my life
could decay this way.
You never realized it was you
who
brought me to
this place
this place

Break:
I fall in love each time
I smell roses in June
I think of you
I remember your eyes
when the wind blows free
each time
your eyes on mine.
But this time
you left crumbs on the bed
and half filled glasses
of the cheapest wine
me
and the wine
left behind
with the things you said
I was hoping
I was hoping
you never meant.
Your eyes
I fall in love each time.

" Till Time Is Right"
a song:
1)
We sat at the kitchen table
as her tears most freely fell.
She said she'd like to tell me
of a friend she'd never met.
Her husband had left years ago
upon her own request.
but since that time she's been alone
and alone is a lonely plan.

Chorus:
'Till time is right
'till time is right
we only have one life to live
but still the rules apply.
We'll wait
'till the time is right

2)
She had spied a stranger
while sitting in the sun.
The moment that their eyes locked
she felt her soul
undone.
A friend had planned a dinner
to introduce their lives.
Formal invitations
she waited
'till the time was right.

3)
One night she was out driving
along a lone ravine.
A car crash did seem suspect
a car that she had seen.
And when she called
and asked her friend
if what she feared was true
she said that yes..
he left a note to say
I'm lonely too.

Bridge:
Who knows why or when we'll meet again.
If we'll crawl or if we'll fly.
But I know one thing
that's clear
lost time
fell from my mother's eyes.

"Those Sensitive People"

a continuing story...


Dallyanne continued on with her musings and tales,

"As I spent time discovering each new orchid, naming them only after I was sure their name was fitting, I grew to love them individually. They are very charming and witty you know Entloff."

Entloff smiled and reflected on the sweet calm that had settled over him while listening to his Emmies softness. All the things that he had loved about her were here between them,as they lie in their bed. Her emerald eyes glistened with the same unmistakable magic.

Dallyanne went on,

"One day, when I was only seven. I came across a crystal clear pond...my secret pond Entloff. This pond has become my peace. The pond, the Emerings, they are the source of all of my poems and songs, my paintings, for which I am blessed. The greater gift though is the sense of awe at all that I see and feel...everything I smell and eat. Besides you my darling Entloff it is the most important thing in my life... my seed, my tree."

... "Entloff," Dallyanne whispered softly

"I am an Emering."

"Those Sensitive People"

a continuing story....

One night in a moment of weakness Entloff missed the side of Dallyanne that spoke of possibilities and magic. He crossed over his own line. He snuggled up to Dallyanne in pillows of soft down peacock feathers and gazed into her emerald eyes.
"Tell me Dallyanne, tell me of your secret treasures"

Dallyanne was gleeful and she pulled out a little journal from under their bed. She began to read from her last posting.

"When I was very young, I came across a curious little pathway. It led through gardens of orchids and ferns that were ten and twenty feet tall. The orchids changed colors as I passed them. At first glance they were glowing with the yellow of the sun. As I walked deeper into the forest they changed into orange then pink and later a lovely lavender. I spent months on end with a book on orchids matching their glow with their name. I later named them all individually...each and every flower."

Dallyanne stopped for a moment, kissing the cheek of Entloff and stroked his hair.

"It's true you know Entloff, all of it. If you understood the life of each flower and their sensitive side you would never be the same. I named each and every flowering orchid because it was neccessay, everyone needs a name, don't you think?"

Entloff held her close, no reason to push her spirit down to match his disbelief. There was no one around to judge either one of them. He was torn but this was an orchid in itself and he decided to cherish the moment.

"Yes my dear Emmie, everyone deserves a name."

to be continued....

"I Grasp A Circle"

(a song)

I touch the wind inside my eyes
I grasp a circle and I hold it tight
I close the door
and I form a simple key
to keep me in here
and you
out there

If there are other circles to the day
better memories on display
will you help me
to unwind them?
I'm bound to see them
don't you think
If I ponder on the moment long enough

Does time cease
do memories?

You may not use my memories
You may not misconstrue
because as they're unfolded
they are me
of course
and not you
*******************************************
The song above was taken from a poem I wrote, these are the missing lines of the poem

If I allow the most quiet comment
If I hand over
even for a moment
my memories
to be changed by yours
I will not even have this moment
or this circle
to enclose
and you know...
how many dreams can we allow in
when so few come true?