Poetry Corner - The Silver Circle

Touch the silver chain,

Precious links wound ‘round your neck.

Let your fingers stroke

The tiny silken circles.

The cool of metal

Against the warm heat of skin.

Each link is a word.

Forming thoughts.

Creating ideas.

Weaving stories.

What words do you hear?

“Once upon a time…”

“In the terror of the storm…”

“Look to the west, the sun is rising…”

Listen to your heart.

How does your story end?

Search, find the last link.

You know the one, sad but true.

Tired not broken,

Holding the silver circle.

Staying together,

Not willing to be destroyed

What are the last words?

I love you eternally.

                                    - Mary Quast

Poetry Corner - The Moon

In this busy week, take a moment and enjoy the world around you. I love the day, but I prefer the night and the midnight sun. My favorite is when I can see the moon during the day. Sit back and enjoy my rambling.

The Moon

I looked up from the cement world

and saw the moon today.

What a pleasant surprise!

He may have even looked my way.

I stood in my white cloak

Made of angels small.

I wanted to find my voice

But my body headed the call.

Every night I look to him

Wondering if he looks back at me.

Perhaps when I turn around,

He casts a glance to see.

Did I give him a smile?

Did my heart jump on my sleeve?

He graciously walked away,

Oh, the webs that we weave!

My mind tells me that he is dead,

My heart calls out to him.

I pray for him each day,

My hope never grows dim.

Only at night to I stand to gaze

In my cloak of white.

The small angles sleeping

Hidden from sight.

I speak in soft whispers

I’m sure he never hears.

I just wish for him to know

How I hold him so dear.

He loved me once then

Cast me to earth.

But my love remains,

And admiration grows from this dirt.

Memories of tenderness come

Rays of moonlight caress my skin.

Emotions never forgotten

But hidden within.

With my arms, I reach to the moon

Embracing the light cast below.

I’m sure he does not see me,

To him I am only a shadow.

I was surprised to see the moon

In the daylight, alive and well.

Tonight I will send him a smile

And in the shadow’s I will dwell.
                                                                      - Mary Quast

Sensual Saturday - A Poem

That Day

If you've got the key
then I've got the door
let's do what we did
when we did it before

if you've got the time
I've got the way
let's do what we did
when we did it all day

you get the glass
I've got the wine
we'll do what we did
when we did it overtime

if you've got the dough
then I've got the heat
we can use my over
til it's warm and sweet

I know I'm bold
coming on like this
but the good things in life
are too good to be missed

now time is money
and money is sweet
if you're busy baby
we can do it on our feet

we can do it on the floor
we can do it on the stairs
we can do it on the couch
we can do it in the air

we can do it in the grass
and in case we get an itch
I can scratch it with my left hand
cause I'm really quite a witch

if we do it once a month
we can do it in time
if we do it once a week
we can do it in rhyme
if we do it every day
we can do it everyway
we can do it like we did it
when we did it
that day

~ Nikki Giovanni

Incense
The stick is lit. Smoke takes to the air like a runner after the gunshot, but only for a moment does it run. With a sudden yawn, the smoke relaxes and begins to gently twist and turn. A floating spiral, on an upward path.

Scented smoke carries my thoughts, my memories, my spirit with it. I feel lifted, unburdened by physical things. My spirit calls out to my ancestors and to my God. Wings of grey take me to weightlessness. I am free. No pain, no sorrow. I am light.

I bend and arch in the currents. Smiling as I float in this newfound space. Twisting, turning as I soar. My heart beats out a soft drum. It is an empty space as is my soul. I breathe deep; the smoke brings to me words from heavenly voices.

Warm air wraps around my body, across my skin and through my bones. Delicate webs weave me a staircase to follow. Exotic scent beckons to me. Grey wings pull my spirit higher. I feel peace. I am one with the elements of air, earth, water, fire.

A line of smoke rises and splits into two lines forming a pair of wings. They take flight and ramble in time as they play. Circling, twirling, weaving through memories.

The wings begin to fade, the scent lingers. I’m not ready. Take me with you, let me fly some more. The smoke moves as if in slow motion, not waving farewell but giving me a smile. Even when I can’t see it, the scent is there and I will be at peace. I know I am not alone.