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All posts for the month December, 2015

A Winter’s Wish

Published December 29, 2015 by Kathleen's Writings & Art

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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.

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A Poet’s Pen

Published December 13, 2015 by Kathleen's Writings & Art

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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)

Where Did You Go?

Published December 6, 2015 by Kathleen's Writings & Art

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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?

HOME

Published December 1, 2015 by Kathleen's Writings & Art

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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.

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