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Showing posts from April, 2018

ABOUT TO SUCCUMB by Maureen Lancaster

How do you find yourself once you realize that you have become so deeply lost that you are ready to take that last breath: the one before you succumb to the tar-sands of fear and despair which are dragging you-ever so relentlessly-under? 
You dig deep, really deep, to find within yourself the understanding that only YOU have the power to let the past be released, in order to allow the present to heal, and the future to unfold with hope and trust as your soul journeys along through life's lessons.
For me, the vision of that quagmire tar's grip as I slipped off the rock that I was desperately clinging to, still resonates and reminds me of the days past; not only of how helpless I felt, but more of how empowered I was slowly becoming during those initial gathering moments of strength. For it was in the struggle that i realized how strong my will was.  
ABOUT TO SUCCUMB...(a series of Tankas) Maureen Lancaster
about to succumb black depths clawing at my soul trying hard to breathe panic o…

SPRING RAIN by Tammy Takahashi

SPRING RAIN

by Tammy Takahashi

When the rain burst forth From the stormy sky, And I threw my arms out wide And arched my back deeply, As far as it would go, It wasn’t for the heavens, Or the sorrows we all know.
There was only this moment, Clouds gathered dark, Now ready to explode, And I, out alone on a walk, Ready to meet the offering Washing over my skin, Tricking down to my toes.
I imagined all my questions Seeping into the ground, And gingerly entered the space Newly opened in my mind To discover that it, too, was sky, And that I could embrace it With every dream I could find.
I ran on the sopping leaves, Danced from tree to tree, As each of them taught me How to stand proud and pure Between the giddy conversations Flowing from ground and sky, How to be me, to find the free.


Tammy Takahashi is a Canadian writer, photographer and chronicler of life as it passes through us.Always a wanderer, she's endlessly mesmerized by people, places and everything in between; the world is somehow so vast and so small. …

THE DESCENT by Rachel Lyon

The Descent
by Rachel Lyon

The wet, dripping walls of this cave I stroke on my decent into the inner chambers barefooted and disrobed
The cold air brushes my shoulders as the empty space sucks me into its womb
where no light penetrates and no flower grows where shadowsemanate
The cave of my desires The impregnation of my dreams I turn in this expanse of space  fingertips stroking nothingness 
Down here I am reborn  My mind manifests beauty onto dark, shiny walls The projector  illuminates  the deep fantasies of life
A woman descends  in her underground chamber  to be reborn again and again
To bring light to the world as the light barer A new egg gifted to her palms gently folding to cup her desires that overflow everlastingly to her lips she swallows the divine
She takes darkness into herself and births light ascends upon a new moon night

Rachel Lyon: I have been writing poetry since childhood, as a means of recording my feelings. I spiritually awoke when I was 20, while visiting Arizona and have pursued my writing …