#3- Ballerina
You smile across the table
Your eyes locked with her dancing frame
Watching, observant, as she gets lost in the music (more…)
Third Eye Emerging (Hour 3)
Internally the turmoil is unforgiven.
The root of the pain stems from the unknown.
Unresolved issues from my past are dormant.
A blank slate void of laughter, joy, or pain.
As night falls intuitive visions flood my mind.
As the sun rises exhaustion takes over my body.
A never-ending cycle as the third eye emerges,
a sense of clarity and higher purpose controls this insanity.
The Day the Supreme Court Decision was Announced Prompt 2
Charcoal clouds overcame the sun that June morning
and swept over the land covering, smothering hope.
The heavens wept and the angels cried for the unwanted,
who would now be born to live lonely lives. The sun,
exhausted, slipped away and the moon filled the sky.
It was the darkest evening of the year.
The darkest evening of the year.
from Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
Image
God created a pasture of pink.
Cherry colored flowers
sprawled across a hillside.
Crimson leaves on a lone tree.
Burgundy hues against a blue sky.
“Look,” said God, “a spectrum.
From the light laughter of pink
to a deep, brooding burgundy,
I am the artist of your soul.”
“Look deeper,” he urged.
“Beyond the vibrant, urgent ‘now,’
of a pastel prairie
is the endless, eternal comfort of blue
outlasting the cherry, the burgundy, the crimson,
and the pink.”
Hour 3: A Purple Day
Hour 3: It is a Purple Day
My daughter says: When I went to bed, it was 2022. When I woke up, it was 1972.
and
purple orchids bend to wind under bruised sky
and
inside, the house simmers in fragrance
I bath slices of shiny purple eggplants in whisked egg,
dip into bread crumbs, seasoned with oregano & sweet basil
listen to them snapping in olive oil, frying to golden perfection
Purple cauliflower, which tastes just like white,
roasts to crispy perfection in the air fryer
Purple grapes, nestled in purple bunches
sit in an amethyst ceramic bowl
waiting to be tossed into fruit salad
On the cutting board, a purple skinned onion
which everyone says is red
I slice through papery skin,
wipe away stinging tears,
listen to the news,
shake my head in utter disbelief
and sadness at choices eradicated
the onion is not the cause of all
my tears
Outside, purple sky unleashes its fury
3 Kindness Rocks
3 Kindness Rocks
Good vibes only
Sharing with strangers
Colors that notice
Placed safely around
Keep hide or remain
Something we need
Hard with soft wishes
No postage required
Remember be caring
Give one a try
Bestow a sweet blessing
One stone at a time
Revelation, Hour Three
Revelation
I wander,
gathering wool down memory lane
and sweetly roaming,
amid revery,
immersed in my mind
and the pulsing heart
of peaceful being when
a sharp noise, a scrolling headline
proclaiming the latest atrocity
yanks me back to HERE,
back to NOW,
a fish on a barbed hook until
I wriggle and rip
away, bleeding,
and set forth,
once again to go a-roaming
through the golden twilight
of my inner meadow,
an abductee to memory,
yet free.
Melodious melancholy
One of the things I can truly say
brings me earned regret is my
lack of musical ability
A great-aunt who taught piano
offered me free lessons
I passed, parents didn’t push
An old soul, junior high me
discovered
Big Band music
bought Glenn Miller records
considered
trombone lessons
but the horn was taller than I
Living on my own at nineteen
I bought a nice guitar
but the lessons weren’t in tune
with my budget
A decade later I spent two moths
taking voice lessons
at a crisp $7.50 a weekly session
the teacher offered me a basket
so I could maybe carry a tune
I have distant cousins
who each play the cello, have
toured, recorded with
world-renowned stars
I watch their videos and wonder
A few years back my eldest son
gifted me a cheap guitar
it sits on a stand behind me
gathering dust
and more ‘what ifs’
then I spent $9.99 for a recorded
online class
I have yet to activate
For now, if the topic of
my musical prowess comes up
I whistfully go to my fallback
“Played the piano once.
I lost, five-to-three”
Beat me daddy, eight to the bar
and where did I put
that password?
– Mark L. Lucker
© 2022
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd
#3 Now
no time, no place
holding all as one.
no up, no down
but not without direction.
no launch, no finale
the now is omnipresent.
the pause between the notes,
the breath between the words,
the stillness in the dance,
sovereign over all.
Shedding ancient skins
to birth a new way of being.