Breakfast in Bed

Pull the covers over my head,

don't want to face this day.
I can smell the pancakes and
coffee downstairs
but the only sound I hear
is the melancholy tune
of my heart strings playing
please don't go.
Winter's cruel game sets
time on a crazy,
high-speed wheel only to
crawl when things get real.
Damn that clock.
Sip the sparkling slowly
and remember that I'm
here waiting for a wake
up call from this
lonely dream, singing
please don't go.

Winter Pane

I touched the window yesterday

the pane was cold beneath my hand

for winter dwelt beyond its plane

and dipped in frost the very land.

I thought if Spring would ever come

my window would again be warm

and tell of climbing Summer sun

and mirror flash of midnight storm.

And then again the wind would blow

and glaze the earth with solemn white

my window would of Winter know

a paler sun, a deeper quiet.

Written in my journal from 1983.

As I've gotten older, I've learned that life rarely rhymes,

and so rarely does my poetry, anymore.

Carousel

Out on the field where daisies live

and elements of men remain

there stands a haunted carousel

silent now, and just as well.

The ponies still in frozen prance,

the wind and rain made colors pale

yet once their brightly painted hooves

fell softly to their merry dance.

And children's laughter echoes 'round

among the ponies' gilded heads,

or is the wind designed to mock

and conjure up that mournful sound?

The mirrors, cracked along the wheel,

and blinking lights no longer shine

the moon reflects in still, black eyes

the daydreams of a child to fill.

Now paled by sun they fade away,

the carousel, a silent tomb

some say that on a summer's eve

one still can hear the ponies play.

Sweet Nothing to Do Time

I'm on vacation until February 15th. I'll have my journal on my journey and hope to feel inspired to put pen to paper. I've been in a bit of a slump and believe a vacation just might be the thing I need to help me over the crevasse, a.k.a., get my groove back.

Thanks for reading.

-Itsa Mystery

Campfire

Stars above us

Blanket around us
Fire before us

I hear your heartbeat

Earth beneath us
Past behind us
Hope inside us

I hear your heartbeat

Night surrounds us
World below us
Love between us

I hear your heartbeat

You smell like smoke

Kiss me

Counterfeit

I painted a picture
that wasn't real,
glossed over the truth
with rosy strokes,
altering reality
with Love's false media.

Honest rain came

and washed away

my revisionist design,

revealing the genuine

in unvarnished clarity.

And though the

art beneath

is regretful and bittersweet,

I must accept

its authenticity.

Journal Entry: March 15, 2009

Though years have passed,

I love you still.
The sun, the moon,
the universe, was ours.
Yet all that remains
is a blanket of stars
shaped like an arrow
through my soul.

Faith

Forged in fire

her heart is stronger
than any weapon,
spell or poison
mortal men may
summon to harm
or deceive with
thoughtless
deeds and
words concealed
in nectar.

Through battles
raged in fields of
flowers gold and
forests deep the
blade has drawn
its grief across
her breast
in brutal ignorance.

On ocean's edge
she stands while
tempests rage
a solitary guardian
of her dreams.

The wind catches
her whispered
prayer and
she lifts her face
to the storm and
smiles.

Alien Abduction:::a Reconstructed Poem

Driving down the
empty streets of town
in to the moon
hanging over the
blacktop wet with
midnight rain

under construction

Saw a flower bloom
on a dry river bed
in to the wind
bending over the
past with hope and
trembling fear

mindful seduction

Heard a new song play
in my restless heart
felt the road

stretch out

familiar curves

stars to guide me

lost obstruction

Fire Dance

Bring me the fire
stir the elixir of dreams
dance to the drums
and conjure my injury
into the sky with magic
and the healing smoke
of sage
cleanse me
shaman, doctor, medicine man
priest, witch doctor, curandero
burn me cut me pierce me
chant the mantra
call the spirits

sing the ancient verses
remove my heart and
make it whole
or send my spirit to
the valley of peace
save me
from these demon coils

that bind me
or cast my ashes to the
winds of the desert

girl vs. God: Part Three

girl: go away.
God: I cannot do that.
girl: you're God, you can do anything, right? Go Away.
God: You know how it feels to love someone, don't you?
girl: yes.
God: You also know how it feels to love someone who doesn't return your love, don't you?
girl: yes.
God: Then you know I cannot leave you. I love you.
girl: Fine. Then please don't talk to me right now. You tricked me.
God: It's called Free Will. I know how things will turn out, but you make your own choices. Every choice you make can change the outcome. It's up to you. If I didn't love you, it would not be so.
girl: Did I choose this? I never wanted this pain.
God: Maybe not, but you're not the only human with Free Will.
girl: Couldn't you intervene just once? Use your power to change things?
God: The human heart has an amazing capacity to heal. A miracle really, if I do say so myself.
girl: Could you speed up the process then? I'm not getting any younger.
God: That is TRUE.
girl: Great, thanks. [sighs]
God: Now, you better get your sunglasses.
girl: Why?
God: You'll see....soon. In the meantime, remember...I love you, even if no one else does. [smiles]
girl: My dog loves me.
God: He also loves to eat rocks and chase his own tail.
girl: So what's your point?

Tears for Haiti

The Angel of Death
walks the streets with
heavy heart
blood on his feet and
his hands wet with
tears enough to fill
the ocean twice again
A deafening chorus
of misery pierces
his mind with the
sobbing of children
and the echoes of souls
so many collected
so many still to seek

while the sun sets

in apathy on the

sparkling blue sea.

Where is God?

The clock chimes

and the universe fills

with silence.

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Empty Page

Take my hand lift me up
lift me out of here
carry me far
to a new place
where no one knows
my face
or knows my
sorrow never
witnessed my scars
Never wounded me
Never gave me hope
when there was none
I need an empty page
to fill with something
real so take my hand

Fallen

Keeper of my heart
thief of hope
I will not run
but fly on broken wings
born in the dark
caverns of grief
drifting out of
the corners a
thundering echo
shatters the
sanctuary of
my mind
vanishing flight
and faith
falling through clouds
onto the blood
in the grass

Changes

the leaf

floats
on the water
rocking in the
current
it spins and
catches the
river's flow
then swiftly
disappears
in flash of
gold

Link to Evangeline

I've had a request for an easy access link to my short story "Evangeline."
So, here it is, enjoy!

http://southernbreezes.blogspot.com/2006/05/evangeline-part-one.html

There are 28 blog posts to the entire story (over 10,000 words). If you click on the "Blog Archive" link on the left side of the home page, then click on May 2006 and scroll to the bottom you will find the beginning.

Dandelion

Your answers are riddles
spoken through
a great chasm.
The bitter wind
traps your words
and scatters them across
the battlefield
of the heart,

like the seeds from

the dandelion.
Quietly,
a new ending, settles

and becomes.

Father Mine

It was rare

to see him smile.

But who knows what

demons tormented

his soul?

Angry at the world,

misery was his constant.

He lived a solitary life

never knowing how

to open his heart

to anyone or thing.

Perhaps the king

of the world has

no need for such pursuits

as gratitude or

kindness.

His unremarkable life

has left its marks

on all of us.

The Cold Shoulder

I climbed the mountain

cold and hard

there I found nothing but

empty wind

and the tattered treasures

of pilgrims

You were not there

waiting as the frozen air

filled my lungs with pain

Why did I make this journey?

The mountain knows my

only victory is this single moment

of life escaping in a misty cloud

of breath, and nothing more

There is no flag to plant with joy

in this barren wasteland

and there is no time to make it

out before the darkness falls