imagine it’s so
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee.
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
🐝
To make a prairie by Emily Dickinson
It was the summer of lemons
being replaced by oranges. Lemons,
they said, had lost something
that lemons sometimes lose. Painters
piled Navels and Valencias, mixed red
into yellow for Still Life with Oranges;
the wooden bowl beautiful with lonely
cracks, organic with time and handling.
Evening, men and women squeezed
wedges from the larger fruit, a squall
over flounder. Mothers whisked sweeter
juice into oil, sherry vinegar, crush
of garlic. Seaside, we sprayed oysters
then peppered as usual. In the absence
of lemons, there was a thirsting to taste
water kindled with novelty, set ablaze by
unplumbed citrus. Slices like thin suns
were cut to fit the rim line, to space in
the circumference of goblets and jam
jars. It was then, drinking
what was more July than June,
that we returned to each other.
🍊
Summer of Lemons by Marjorie Thomsen
I imagine writing a poem
which slips into the hearts stream
quietly,
with no great splash
just a graceful entry,
with a calm circling ripple
words plunging deeply upon entry
allowing the mud to settle gracefully around it.
I imaging writing a poem
which allows the heart to trust,
to open,
to flower in it’s own time
knowing, for sure,
it is dependable,
steady,
written to last
through the fiercest storms
though the world burn
and the mountains crumble
words so full of love
so beautiful
so eternal
they come to life
each time they are read,
or spoken
I imagine anyone who dares to read this poem of mine
cannot help but
find within themselves
clouds of peace
wrapped up in thick blankets of joy
and will forever know for sure
they are
beloved
🌫
Amy Lloyd
I think I need to get out more;
Out of the confines
Of my lonely dungeon
I hope humanity accepts
The Shadow that I am
Standing there
As the last breath
Of a slayed monster
I think it’s time
I stretched out my cripping fingers
To reach to the sunrise
And kill some time
Just thinking about tomorrow
Without knowing it may be here
I think it’s time
To go loco
And sound so cynical
To the world so serious
I think it’s time to breathe –
in and out of existence
And capture moments in time
I want to tune in
To the sounds that surround me
And flow carelessly
Like a drifting spill
On an unsuspecting land
I just want to rain in emotions
And still hold on to my thoughts
I think love is my downfall
Yet again, it is all we long for
I think it’s time to ask my soul
”Why are you so blind? ”
I guess I need someone to blame
But, all I find is myself
I need to dance with my thoughts
And find truth
Whatever it is out there
In the cosmos so deep
And debilitating state of rest
That puts me in a trance
And phases me in a trail
Where peace resides
I just need some time alone
All by myself
Just to become fully myself
Without doubt or any judgments
I think it’s time
For the rain to fall
And for us to dance
As iron sharpening iron
Let us sweat
Into the Nile of serenity
I just want to talk to myself;
The inner child trapped
By a grown up
Who has forgotten
That life was meant to be enjoyed,
And adored, and given
For it is a gift
I need to get rid of this seriousness
That longs to control
And structure all
As if it can play God
Losing its mind trying hopelessly
To find its ego –
Let me meditate
🐲
Meditation by Khalid Bin Al Kamaal
life: acoustic & amplified 