Journey of the Heart

Choosing Love You choose, sometimes to lose In the game of love Seldom are there winners So the sprint begins Chaste kisses raining On eager, trembling lips To soft caresses Or clasping hands Walking together everywhere Passionate loving, Or heated climax And thrill of victory Soon gives way To defeat at each turn Words out of cadence Stumbling club-footed Tongue always in the way Wanting to express What cannot be? So the race becomes a dance Dashing becomes spinning Whirling and catching As we fall into each other’s arms Bending gracefully Then awkwardly we pause Panting, sweating, waiting Lose the beat, music dies A slow death march ensues And like the ballerina Twirling in the music box We start the dance again Spinning, then winding down Knowing full well That it could be The slow-dance or the fugue, The last we lovers can endure Before we separate forever The race ended, no victory crown Just regret, endless regret Julia W....

I wrote this when thinking of several things that impact my life (and I am sure many others) in positive ways... My faith rests on a principal that there is an interdepent web of all existence of which each of us is a part. I also notice daily how the spider webs outside my door preservere through winds and rain, and yet are so insignificant as to be almost invisible. Invincible, invisible connection is all around us, some connections as fine as spider silk but oh so strong. Connection by Julia W. Prentice Connection tenuous, a silver thread Strand of gossamer, barely seen, but Firmly anchored in our soul Scintillating, shimmering When we reach out The trembling cord vibrating With the hum of our life We touch other threads As they in turn vibrate Our frequencies align To double the life-force Nay, increase it exponentially Two become three Three, five, as the  Web of life pulses our Spider-silken strands We reel in our ...

As I sit and wait for healing after ankle surgery I have been thinking of freedom... I have been thinking of being prevented from doing the living of the life I desire. And inside that wondering I explore the varied meanings of freedom, confinement and release...and so these words escaped. Freed by Julia W. Prentice I am a freed prisoner from my own negative As I run I doff my black and white Shackles fall from my feet, making them light Cuffs slip from wrists that wave welcome Released from bonds I can almost float Skim the earth, barely touching, glide Through air that rings freedom’s bells Hear them chiming future possibility Shake a hint of doubt, regret and uncertainty My feet find the path despite all these, Leading a way toward refuge, to Salvation promised me from long ago There I rest, imbibe that Chilled wine of no inhibition Become drunk on freedom of speech Blurt out reality that isn’t welcome My hand unbound can take up pen...

Rake Up the Leaves by Julia W. Prentice Rake up the leaves, pile them high Scuffs and crunches touch my ears As I jump down inside the musty depth With burnt-orange, ashy sounds Shake off the gold and brass The red not brick or barn Tan and golden gleaming hues Fill full my hungry, yearning eyes Their powdery dust pricks nose Each sense drinks up its own The wine of Autumn runs in my veins The vintage aged and bold Hand pokes inside the pile, so high My sister searches, tickles me I burst up and crash down again Like beluga breaches waves Drunk with great draughts of Fall Stagger through the just-dead leaves Wade through that burnt-orange dust Each sense reeling with the swell Autumn sounds full orchestra Inside my mind it hums And sings it twilight, saddest song For all here now, soon gone. (2002) Julia W. Prentice:   A deeply feeling Cancer, Julia has been writing since her teenage years. She is the...

A spiritual exploration of the deprivation that comes from dementia... ...or other memory-destroying life situations, this poem wrote itself as I ponder the stages of relationship with my mother. As she slips into the golden years, I attempt to follow her, walking the path she walks. When I experienced a form of memory loss it felt as if it would last a lifetime. Then, slowly and with reluctant acceptance, came a new place to dwell in light and in relationship with the fragile nature of memory and recognition of a new way to be in relationship with it. Deprived by Julia W. Prentice Deprived of my senses All of them deadened Taste is nothing but ash Smell is unknown Touch wrapped in cobwebs Or sea foam, Sight gone forever. Yet I hear a singing Ringing in my ears They are the inner voices Celestial and divine Slowly they awaken me Undeaden the touch To soft goose down Unnumb the scenting to Gardenia blooms And tasting ambrosia Slipping d...

This one was written during an online course entitled "Writing the Womb" lead by Isabel Faith Abbott… The prompt was "What am I becoming?" and a description of the birth process of myself as a writer was the answer. The words describe how it was to both be born as and becoming a writer in my own right, without censure or limitation as to the outcome.  What Am I Becoming? by Julia W. Prentice These words are pregnant, Heavy, gravid Swelling outward They weigh upon lips meant for kissing, But are never spoken. Forced upward through constricted throat They hang like breasts, full and pendulant. They bulge, Expanding to the breaking point Barely able to be released Crowning toward the page Spilling out Each raw phrase Exhilarating, terrifying Cried out from newborn mouth Birthing a new me My womb has carried them For countless days Much longer than nine moons And now they have emerged What is just now becoming? ...

A train that passes through my town, seldom seen but often heard, inspired this poem... My life is revealed in the metaphor of the train with heavy cargo passing by. Often I speak of the past as it informs my present life and hopes for the future. Though the path is often dark, there is the light at the end of the tunnel I am always traveling toward. Ghost Train by  Julia W. Prentice I hear the ghost train whistle Echoing through the past Its lonesome wail encompasses The heartfelt doom inside Left overs from the shredded history Known as my story, my undoing See the indelible marks ride on Stains of guilt and shame For things both done and undone Stains no bleach of regret removes Marks unforgiving and of unforgiveness So the train thunders on Tracks are rusty from the tears Fallen in the ashy dust of long ago… Does the engine ever cease? Cargo of loneliness and fear Anxiety and deepest sadness Carried on forever Car...