One Note at a Time

On a warm spring breeze,
Birds chirp their greeting song,
Children play kick ball
On the green grassy knoll,
People laugh while embarking
on their Sunday afternoon stroll,
Tulips peak out from their flowerbeds and,
City lights sparkle in the night;
He strums the strings of her heart,
One small note at a time –
Erasing sadness encased,
Breaching a hedge of grief
Whereupon drapes her heart;

When he passes by her window
Waving to her one more time,
She aims to shed not one more tear,
And tries to wear an unending smile;
Yet, while the world sleeps
And she is on her own,
No use pretending,
She’s far away from home,
Far from the solace of his arms;

Lonesomeness consumes her heart,
Desiring to hold him one more time,
The tenderness of his gracious love and words;

He strums the strings of her heart,
One small note at a time –

City lights sparkle in the night.

Never Ending Abyss

Your unwavering stance

Occupied a barren region,

Lingering there like a withering flower

Before you ultimately departed;

I suffered–

Missing our laughs, and talks,

And trips to new places –

I endured your scarcity;

I mourn we loss the time

To conquer our declining bonds,

Previous to your leaving, and you

Finding a new dwelling place,

Somewhere I cannot visit-

The ever unfathomable crevice

Between us –

Befalls a mystery to me,

I meditate upon the why.

What threw us into that chasm?

Our not holding each other dear,

Dropping us into that never ending abyss –

I assumed it would pass with the rain,

Then we would have another day,

Another laugh, another talk, one more hug.

It never came to pass –

With great sadness –

Tears grasp around my throat, my mind, my heart.

I shake my head and I say, “Not”.

How I wish it naught!

(Painting and Poem by: Kathleen Stevens/2015)

Capture of a Moment

The capture of a moment,

A song that is sung,

Words dancing across the page,

Began when I was still young.

In my heart of memories

There is a special revise,

Seizing steely rains

Rippling through dark and

Forging angry skies-

Issuing me a process

To thrust Heaven’s gate wide,

Escorting in the sunshine

To the chambers of my mind,

Allowing me to capture words,

At times along with goodbyes,

And yet, stringing them together,

Fashioned and designed,

Freeing them to dance,

For moments at a time.

(Poem and Photo by: Kathleen Stevens/2016)

A Winter’s Wish

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.

Painting

Why is it so hard to stop and think, take a breath, before we speak??
(painting by: Kathleen Stevens/1991, watercolor on paper)

A Poet’s Pen

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?

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

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.

Word for the day

The night is nigh with parting day,

Winds blow slowly over land,

As I stroll homeward on my familiar way,

The sunset dips behind any man-

Far from the maddening crowds and stressful life,

The pleasing anxious night is nigh,

Leaving arms of warmth this blissful day,

A kindred spirit shall be my mate,

Let me see him at daylight’s break,

And while the sun sets on my lawn,

And as the creek rushes near my stance,

His love will erase all my fear,

Gentle hands will stroke my hair,

Heart of strength presses me near-

The more he gave, the less I spoke,

A slumberous sound and loving dreams,

I welcome night and the silent breeze,

The night is nigh, and I am pleased.

Happy Mother’s Day!!!

May all the Mothers feel blessed this day and enjoy!! Love, laugh, make amends, create, be joyful, share!!

your fellow blogger,
Kathleen/2015

An Old Woman

Beneath the shade of an old oak tree,

there sat an old woman

completely free,

humming and singing

an unfamiliar song,

with sounds so sweet

and words not long.

Her white sun-kissed hair

blowing like a running mare

on the tails of the wind,

and her tan leathery skin,

draped with a dress

vibrant in colors

and apparently unpressed.

A spell she cast on me

as I sat near,

how lovely, how serene,

with smells of sweet flowers

awakening in the spring.

A warmth filled my soul

as I closed my eyes,

how peaceful was the

never-ending blue sky.

I could stay there for hours,

no time was addressed,

I had no where to be

and,

I needed the rest.

(written by: Kathleen Stevens)
(art work by: Kathleen Stevens, acrylic wash on copper)

The Wedding Dance

Painted by: Kathleen Stevens, oil on canvas, 42″x52″
‘The Wedding Dance’
(may we never stop dancing)

Angels

Angels in the winds

High above the waters

In a land not forsaken

By God’s own gracious hand.

I count the glowing windows

As I pass them in the night

Rows of little beacons

Showing me there is life.

Moments of comfort,

I am at peace

In the silence of the darkness

As angels watch over me.

(written by: Kathleen Stevens)

Dress of Gold

The wind of life blows through me,
At times- it whispers,
At times- it wails;
Allow my soul to be a reed,
And sing a song that never fails.
Wordless singing is clearly true,
Either wailing wind
Or skies of blue;
Give me joyous musings,
If you please,
While in the distant church bells ring.
Birds dispersing magnolia seeds
Along tree-covered silent streets,
And, as sunset wraps herself in dress of gold,
Emotions fade like falling stars,
Streaming past heavens wide and far,
Swiftly subtracting wounding words,
Allow my soul to sing a song.

An Old Woman (someone’s favorite!)

Beneath the shade of an old oak tree,

there sat an old woman

completely free,

humming and singing

an unfamiliar song,

with sounds so sweet

and words not long.

Her white sun-kissed hair

blowing like a running mare

on the tails of the wind,

and her tan leathery skin,

draped with a dress

vibrant in colors

and apparently unpressed.

A spell she cast on me

as I sat near,

how lovely, how serene,

with smells of sweet flowers

awakening in the spring.

A warmth filled my soul

as I closed my eyes,

how peaceful was the

never-ending blue sky.

I could stay there for hours,

no time was addressed,

I had no where to be

and,

I needed the rest.

Remember

Remember –

When we went to that lovely German town,

We walked the cobble stone streets,

And gazed into the store windows,

And shopped in the boutiques –

The town looked like a painting by Rockwell,

Remember –

The German food,

And all the laughter,

And the silent nights,

Remember?

Spirits in the Night

There’s a story on the island

of spirits in the night,

a special place where they go to dance

on the sand in the midnight moonlight.

You can hear them singing

and laughing

as they hide in the fog,

they play hide-n-seek and

ride the surf’s roll.

You won’t see their faces—

but they see your soul,

they watch you and hear you

as the island winds blow.

Their seaweed hair wet,

limbs swaying in the mist,

the moonlight gone,

as the sand turns cold,

they return each night,

it’s their favorite place,

well—that’s what I’m told.

My Soul to Hold

My lover,

Take my soul—once more,

Forget me not, as daisies trodden on

Which on the hill is found.

I am a weary way-worn traveler,

Onward bound to my native shore,

Desperate seas I roam alone,

Waves of clouds I chase away,

Island mist upon my face,

Let us meet—once more.

Grasp love’s newest breath,

Say you love me true,

Warm and freely I give to you,

My soul to hold—

Once more.

A Sad Song

She sits alone,

Her skeleton

Pressed, molded,

Wrought by an empty heart.

She sings

A forlorn song,

Purse empty,

Neighbors drift afar,

Afraid to be there,

They point and stare,

Material junk

Seals their hearts.

She wears

A heart heaving

With aches and prayers,

A binding truth and love

She strives to share

But others’ fear

Converts to glare,

And not one steps near.

An Old Woman

Beneath the shade of an old oak tree,

there sat an old woman

completely free,

humming and singing

an unfamiliar song,

with sounds so sweet

and words not long.

Her white sun-kissed hair

blowing like a running mare

on the tails of the wind,

and her tan leathery skin,

draped with a dress

vibrant in colors

and apparently unpressed.

A spell she cast on me

as I sat near,

how lovely, how serene,

with smells of sweet flowers

awakening in the spring.

A warmth filled my soul

as I closed my eyes,

how peaceful was the

never-ending blue sky.

I could stay there for hours,

no time was addressed,

I had no where to be

and,

I needed the rest.

Spirits in the Night

There’s a story on the island

of spirits in the night,

a special place where they go to dance

on the sand in the midnight moonlight.

You can hear them singing

and laughing

as they hide in the fog,

they play hide-n-seek and

ride the surf’s roll.

You won’t see their faces—

but they see your soul,

they watch you and hear you

as the island winds blow.

Their seaweed hair wet,

limbs swaying in the mist,

the moonlight gone,

as the sand turns cold,

they return each night,

it’s their favorite place,

well—that’s what I’m told.