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Dandelion dreams and lollipoop nightmares

Dandelion dreams and Lollipop nightmares

They cheered with their cheerleading, chanting and cheering over again on to their new life

Forgetting the old chatters of the past.

She screamed in silence in her sleepless night.

Could it have been the call of the ancients summoning to come home. Slip! Or was it the poison through her body.

Movie screen night. Belly buttons and bow ties in a Halloween screaming masquerade.

Blades of grass underneath fingernails coloring nature red, a color of warning. Slip!

The lamps of the nightshade burnt out another warning of life and struggles. Slip!

And then a Jack-o’-lantern appeared with a smile and broken teeth.

Trails of misinformation trickling down the channel of chemistry jumping from ladder to ladder.

Bubble gum parachute travelling through the slip!

An emergency of contradictions.

One tic toc missing the toc and where is the mouse in this grandfather clock.

I miss my hands around my teacup summoning genies from the steam.

I look at my knuckles with sigil patterns of spirituality and remembering posies sprouting up between graves.

And then the release came. White chasing whispering ghost sheets on your skin.

A sign of the evolutionary walk home.

Missing the beat of love.

It’s not your touch Momma an inclination or the essence of a chemistry in my body that turned

against me in a newfound dangled plague or maybe a slip!

Trampoline kisses and hugs bouncing away forever….no memory.

Memories you cherish, not your fault – no guilt. Slip!

It is not love. Delete.

Tap dancing on the teeth of the crows playing domino piano to the death march.

Rose petal visions the flower of yellow courage.

No one sees the slip in sugar coated of fallen gallantry essences.

Fighting the life brigade while pulling strands of wisdom from a tired flowing meditation sipping

on slipping straws.

The cricket lanterns slightly glow with the nighttime orchestra illuminated by the moon’s slivers

of silver.

Blood moon they shouted being bloodthirsty as hell and blood the operative word – life’s nectar.

Sticky spider web of global connections urging blackbirds to sing their death song.

Slip! Losing another.

A tapestry sings of no birds in cages screaming the heartbeat to remember to remove feathers.

Mountains rising up and down on the screen of life

Then there is the highway of many flatlines swallowing the long beep.

Slipping through the cracks to blades of shadows cutting into lives counting the people that

went before and the constant beep of a thin line.

No more cracks.  Silence!

Happy Holidays my friends

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I won’t be on much until after the New Years. I wish you all the best not only for the holidays but throughout the years. Don’t forget the less unfortunate, the homeless, the food bank, the elderly and people who are struggling at this time of year. Happy Holidays and may celebrate wisely.

White Christmas, with Santa & his Reindeer

Leave your words

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It is coming to that time again where the wishes are always peace on earth……..I believe it is coming soon. It is Christmas soon and if you leave poetry lines in the comments I will add them here to make a poem of oneness. Be well my friends. I’ll start. The verses don’t have to rhyme nor short.

And there was a star

Brightly shining a far (Sameal)


in my Advent Calendar 🤔🕶
Is this a case of political
correctness gone too far?
But I’m all for inclusiveness,
especially at Christmas 🎄😎 David Redpath

A Jack’o’Lantern gone mad

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The Jack-o’-lantern gone mad

The fog drifts slowly, creeping mysteriously over hallowed

grounds.

The resting home of the dead has many scary sounds.

There is this Jack-o’-lantern, and the cemetery is his home.

He has been there since 1784 and decides this is where he will

roam.

To those who walk bravely in the cemetery at night,

The Jack’o’Lantern will give you such an eerie fright.

Ghost friends create mischief with him too,

Their hair stands up with just one blood-curdling boo.

A cat with raised hackles sits on a tombstone with a hiss.

And a zombie out from a grave wildly shakes his fist.

Around in the cemetery in circles flies a wicked witch,

Her cackle is loud enough with a high piercing pitch.

A spider web might tangle upon a face or two.

The web is icky and will stick to you like glue.

Jack’ o’ Lantern’s smile was up and not down.

Now, not a pleasant smile but only a frightening frown.

The Jack O’ Lantern throws flames only to have fun.

He laughs in a frenzy, watching people wildly run.

If he saw that their clothes were not singed and blackened

scorched,

He would bite them if they dared come onto the rickety old porch!

If that did not work, he would stand on his feet.

And chase them all screaming, running down the street.

If ever on Halloween, you are in a cemetery and lean over onto

a grave,

Dare to be frightened or dare to be brave.

It is only one night throughout all the years.

You have nothing to be scared of – perhaps only your fears.

Remember the Jack’o’Lantern lives for Halloween.

At night he could be nastier, nastier, and chillingly mean.

At one time, he was a good pumpkin – this is so sad.

One day he snapped his lid and went crazily mad. 

A whisper turning phrases

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A whisper turning phrases

     I wrote a poem in the sand, but the sea’s hands brought it back to its home with

no promise of a return. The gatekeeper keeping vigilance asking for the keys of your

poem perhaps today he will let me in. They were wanting a story that were dancing in

their heads with anticipation licking at a story yet unborn. My mind is cluttered as the

leaves of fall chase each other down the street only pausing in the wind’s breath which

would send them on another holiday. Their purpose long dormant not long forgotten and

their ears gone deaf at the edge of a shivering memory. They came up from the earth with

letters in hand, they were letters wanting to make a sentence to form reality that went mad

in a moment of sanity. The secrets spoke to their roots listening to the trees that crawled

through the window to keep those secrets in a box. A Pandora box measuring their hushed

screams in tranquility. They anchored their spot with a splash of ink on a page, and all

was lost when another thought secured itself on an endless missive of grace that was in

code. Between you and me it was an endless quest where thoughts was a rarity into a

book housed in a museum of our own making pillaged by a scrambled author’s signature

and all was well sort of.

Light is not always white

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 Light is not always white


     Their faces dandelion yellow bright a newborn. A feast to the delight of sunlight bees 

buzzing to remembrance and a slap and shiver from the sea to soothe the soul. The seagulls 

carry whispers in their yellow eyes with a wink the moment of creation of earth. A purpose of 

a silent ocean in their teacups-stillness with steps flying freely standing still. Drifting in grey 

wet clouds another strange memory of the light trying to hide their faces. They carried their 

poems on their back lost in letters to be a story yet to be scribbled on the parchment in the back 

of the eyes and yet to be opened. 

     They spoke to the drifters trying to open doors and windows not yet ready to be observed. 

A fragile single thought protected against a shadow shattering in pieces of a burdened carried 

to a predicted ending. The Autumn winds tumbled humanity in unseasoned cartwheel like the 

dancing of leaves being carried to another location to realize the unspoken roots of its 

beginning. 

     Another lonely thought to be stirred creating a savor all its own to be displaced on the 

world stage in the darkest of places. When I opened the book of life the sentences fell to the 

floor a mix of letters named Nirvana. These seeds remained lost while sprouting in unlikely 

places defying logic in their insanity. The book of roots, our bedding with a clue caught in a 

spider web on a frosty day with only the secrets hidden by the messenger. Their backs were 

not made for their heaviness where their begging is like a dream at the edge of remembering 

taken away by a fleeting thought replaced by another within a frame within a disheveled 

frame.   

 They found themselves on a journey whispering their own secrets to add to their own 

observation of tranquility in the tempest brewing in their teacups with shaking hands. A 

collection of unspoken tea readings with familiarity looking at life’s endings whisked away 

to the quiet. There was a question tugging at the soul, but the ego never had the audacity to 

questions anything Spiritual on its path of forgetfulness and self destruction. The questions of 

life and death came from somewhere. 

And then there was no reason

	











			
					

	




			
				


			

		

			
Stenciled shadows

						

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Stenciled shadows





Shadow stencils hang alone on the wallpaper like tarnished diamonds never to twinkle into the abyss of dreams or fading nightmares into coldness.





No bling to wear on the ears or neck a reminder we don’t take the shine with us only the shine of searching for a brighter life when we hear the echo of an imminent cross over.





I run in between spaces drifting with memories that have fallen to the floor of darkness sifting the sand of time with fading recollections through my fingers.





Nothing in the twilight of the sea is mirrored back into the harshness of reality and the babbling brook that rushes itself into an urgency of calmness.





I don’t care for the rush seeping into my veins without a care and there is my fall without the clothing of secrecy stripped in rawness.





A world that  produces haze to humanities’ derision with a smashed warning to wash away the shadows standing alone with its abrasion towards spirituality.





We drifted apart, the boat’s life drifting with no compass to guide watching with no secret’s unseen and an unwashed love hanging out to dry.





Come to the midnight flame to the edge of sanity with tears that fill the ocean that leads to a burning puzzle.





My heart is heavy of bursting clouds, and I ask what is love that burns on the tablets of evolutionary infinity searching from the fog of delusions.





I carry on in my broken and shattered life where I am on a merry go round waiting for my turn to ascend blinded by false messages.





Only to rise in unburdened clouds that rain and sings a melody watching the orchestra of silence with all its boisterous intonations.





Looking at the burning pages of my life and reading between the lines in a moonlight sonata offering its silver sliver playing on the shiver of my spine.





My eyelashes paint my silhouettes on the canvas simultaneously blinking every millisecond of my life never to dry until death.





And I am still left with a questionable life that spins in squares and not with the comfort in the circle of life and now I take a bow.  












			
					

	




			
				


			

		

			
An empty prayer

						

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Photo by Clay Banks 










An empty prayer





I sang for my life on the edge of sorrow when I told you I loved you not knowing I would lose





you.





The stars wept into an endless ocean.





I hold this grief in my heart which sheds memories on my journey of loss.





You left me and I prayed for your return which was an empty prayer to be fulfilled.





I sealed the envelope of my fate signed with the thorns of the universe and of a  blood moon. As the day 





winks exposing the twinkles your life will always be written on my soul






















         Nichola L Stephenson










@nickystevo


			
					

	




			
				


			

		

			
Echoes of life

						

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Image by Wirestock free image











Echoes of life










I know the drum well and it is a drum that will never be silenced.





And, I will always embroil myself in the flame of grief making life better for myself.





To make the drum beat a little softer on my path.





The searching soul unties my hands with the light tied down to my core.





It will help me carry the fire within my heart.





I will wipe my brow with my pride and pry the thumbs of an unrelenting society.





The candle burns into a deep void and the incense of life wafts of sadness.





I wipe the words, “It should never be this way,” and they fall carelessly away to the ground.





                      A renewal took place in the darkness.





                      A spark was seen.





                      And death is life.





                     Yes, life is death.















Viltoria Pexel.com


			
					

	




			
				


			

		

			
Whispers to the sun and clouds

						

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Whispers to the sun and clouds










You made me feel like I was your king but treated me like a peasant. I want to see the sunrise in your heart.





Don’t tear me apart. Please don’t blow in your dark clouds into mine. And your thunder loud as the teeth you





make rattle. I let go of you in my pain and I surrendered you to the ether. And esoteric moment to let you grow





to feel without numbing you impaling yourself on the thorns of life.  So much love danced into our lives, and I





was dressed in your shadow cloaked in the dark for you not to see. You gave me your dark and I gave you, my





light. I want you to feel my ache and I want you to hear your words from the other side tipping out of your





mouth out loud on the pages of life’s existence. Great things happen in our heads. I did see you trying to wrap





me in your clothing that will see me in your doom I have created. Your dry tears was the tall tale not to open





the door of devotedness.  I feel your suffering like a tidal wave gone mad. The dance of anger you pirouette to





is a toxic recipe that lacks Source to bring you to the surface. You are afraid of your own menacing cloud. You





bit into my shadow and tasted yourself while the night bled. Sometimes it hurts to laugh and how do your read





someone you love which blinds you with feelings of drunkenness of being. I want to thank you for imbibing me





with the three spiritual gifts that awaken me on my spiritual journey to do an evolution thereof. No money in





the world can buy these gifts and how you saved me. Thank you for whispering to my sun and cloud in whispers.