I yearn to lie down
On the soft green grass,
And feel the sun’s warmth upon my face,
Allowing my mind to find a peaceful rest,
And put the day’s troubles in a box
Stored away for another day.
I long to hear the birds sweet songs,
And watch the harmony of the leaves
Dancing and floating by the wind’s soft breath.
A sigh released from deep within my chest,
I close my eyes,
And rest.
Why is it so hard to stop and think, take a breath, before we speak??
(painting by: Kathleen Stevens/1991, watercolor on paper)
A cold winter night-
in my sentiment my muse arose
depositing poetry at hand,
with way of my pen—
my contemplation obtaining shape,
my face against the wind,
my essence engaging in words realigning,
together with stillness of reason
and spirit unconfined,
language assembled,
selected in the same way as a trusted friend-
with my muse, I write.
(photo by: Kathleen Stevens/2015)
When the night is dark,
And the moon is absent from the sky,
And a choir of crickets sings their own lullaby,
Where do you go?
When my arms remain empty
And the wind gently whispers my name,
And I gaze upon the stars,
Where do you go?
When my heart aches to feel your breath
And the warmth of your soul,
And the silence is heavy,
Where do you go?
When I’m no longer here
To feel completely alone;
Where did you go?
It is elevating to retrace my footsteps
In the direction of the mountains,
To gaze at the new fallen snow,
To witness the glistening of icicles
And how they form in the sun –
In my spirit I have returned home,
I fathom my journey at this moment,
And it ensued into a long-lasting one.
I appear as before in outward view,
A few more lines, a few more pounds,
A softened heart, I wear no mask,
And childlike notions—I allocated—
I outgrew.
In my own right on a midsummer night,
In my sentiment—mountains reminiscent of,
My muse arising depositing poetry at task.
By way of a pen—my contemplation
Obtaining shape,
My face against the wind,
My essence engaged in words realigned,
Together with a stillness of reason
And spirit unconfined,
Mysterious language assembling,
Selected in the same way
As a trusted friend,
In my spirit I have returned home.
Kathleen's Writings & Art 