Wednesday, May 25, 2016
each stair up a mystery,
each stair down an opportunity.
Flight after flight
fight after fight--
sweat trickling and heart pounding.
The spiral staircase enables us to see one another.
When you tire, I come to you.
When you surge, I follow you.
When I stumble, you add stability.
When I jump, you bound with me.
The flights are limitless, and the view from the top is unknown;
climbing with you makes taking the stairs worthwhile.
Friday, May 13, 2016
introvert ... extrovert
stability ... adventure
planner ... impulse
right brain ... left brain
obedient ... rebellious
I think you get the gist of where I am going.
Why is it that differences are seen as opposites?
Differences can be complements. Two people complementing one another through their unique lenses. Embracing lenses and frames of all shapes, sizes, colors and sounds. Instead of thinking about all the the things we have in common, let's embrace all the things we don't.
It is through the unshared interests that we can test theories, assumptions, boundaries, do things we are not good at, learn, and grow.
Friday, April 29, 2016
with a political understanding of a stark environment.
The moment the suit jacket is buttoned,
the smile fades into white walls with no windows.
The clutter of emails-- click, clack, click, clack.
The keys sound like tap dancers
on a road march.
Wearing the suit is unnatural, and steals the inner beauty
of a creative soul.
The sweatpant persona is relaxed like the track pants
and tanks free of bras and restriction.
A natural beauty with limited amounts of make up and
free-flowing, disheveled hair.
The stress of the day is now gone--
the best part of the day is when you arrive.
When we can lounge in sweatpants together and drink wine--
the restrictions of the suit unravel.
The vision of you, sitting on the counter in Adidas gear and a headband
echoes the bliss of sweatpants.
Saturday, April 9, 2016
awaiting the blooms of cherry blossoms bursting with
hints of pale pink and white.
The window of opportunity so slight to marvel in the beauty,
only soon to be washed away by rain and thunderstorms so loud
they echo across the Potomac like Narcissus calling out,
"is anyone there."
The remains of the branches are bare and ordinary,
passing as common trees fading into the others.
Until next year, the branches are dark and unaided--
lines of tourist impatiently await the next offering.
Saturday, April 2, 2016
Helmets strapped, life vests tight against bare skin, rafts submerge in the river on the warmest day of Spring. Sun shining so bright the reflection
from the water slowly reddens skin and draws silhouettes in its body.
The raft floats steadily moving from left to right with minimal speed
allowing for conversations and laughter.
Around the bend, the river forks into two distinct routes—
both with paths leading to unlike sceneries.
The left rapid can slurp its inhabitants into a spell of excitement, risk and
danger while offering a beautiful route through a miraculous gorge ending
with a site similar to Gorges du Verdon in France.
The resonance of rushing water so powerful it sounds like a percussion musical. With each rapid, the current gets stronger, and riders are thrown from the raft pleading for a hand to lift them back to shelter, security, and steadiness.
The right rapid offers comfort and reliability with minimal threats to safety like those cars who auto break when a hazard is near.
The route is a peaceful journey with minimal pace changes and obstructions whose waters are shaded by large oak trees. The rider cannot view anything further than the lines of leaves, but revels in the beauty of those objects that can be touched.
The fork is drawing near, the raft is swaying, the riders are split with
half their ores drawing left and the others right.
Monday, March 28, 2016
soaring while whistling and creating attention.
At times, the scream so piercing, it has the ability to stop
passersby's who gawk in amazement.
Migrating from place to place with little attachment
as the wind strokes the body creating peace.
Envy fills the souls of those who want to fly,
but realizing their wings were brutally clipped.
They reside in a cage, being analyzed by society
and are forced to create their nest in one place.
Hopelessly staring through the bars of the cage at those birds
who are able to fly away.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
a fairy tale with a mysterious character.
Each flutter, a new chapter, flashing wildly
like the lights on the ambulance riding
madly on the opposite side of the road.
Across the desk, your face shows experience--
beautifully worn and handsomely shaped.
Femininity in your eyes with smudged blues
creating creases of color similar to an artist
painting contrast on a bland canvas.
Across the aisle on metro, a barrier remains.
When the train halts, crowds rush toward
the exit, and readily find their escape.
I look your direction, and see a weathered face.
Guide me out of this tunnel,
I trust your way.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
licensed only to those that can afford to zoom.
a click to recall the moment is a beautiful reminder
of what tomorrow will bring.
if only the focus was on the trees,
life would be simply green.
the fog of your soul rushes over
the camera and makes an imperfect picture.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Monday, December 31, 2012
I took quite the hiatus from writing; however, I have been hiking, breathing, and discovering.
2012 in a glance:
My royal mutt, Laddie, and I section-hiked the Sheandoah. It took us about 4 months, lots of car rentals, numerous weekend backpacking trips, but we made it. Almost every weekend beginning in June, Laddie and I backpacked, one mile at a time with an attempt to cover about 15-20 miles a day. During these quiet moments, I had the opporunity of discovering my personal interests, stengths, and weaknesses. The hills were my struggle, the rivers were my freedom, and the valleys were my comfort.
During these solo hikes, I began to ponder the need to socialize, and break the comfort of living inside my personal bubble. I joined several hiking clubs over the past few months, and started discovering new mountain ranges, state parks, national parks, and unknown trails with like-minded people that enjoy nature. Since joining these clubs, I have participated in over a dozen, and was asked to be a hike leader. I will be leading my first hike with the Capital Hiking Club at the end of January, which brings me happiness to share my knowlege and love of nature with others.
I have come to deeply and profoundly appreciate the need for a work-life balance, and have found hiking to be liberating, enjoyable, challenging, and stunning. That being said, here is to 2013. A year in which I will focus on being positive while hiking upward toward internal peace.
Photos from Shenandoah:
Monday, May 28, 2012
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Approximately 112 miles of handsome open spaces—
rivers gently whispering, and clouds soften like
marshmallows over ambers in a campfire.
Driving toward familiarity, bliss, and excitement
for a road ahead filled with spontaneity and mystery.
We run together, holding hands, escaping for a moment—
traveling along paths of deep conversation and pleasure.
Our souls were connected even before we met amongst
music from the South, red wine, and high heels.
If only we could pause time, travel the world together
and take pictures of sunsets and random strangers.
For now, we have a friendship as deep as the Grand Canyon
and warmer than Death Valley in the dead of summer.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
sailing toward something foreign.
the stars breathe sighs of happiness
knowing summer offers softness.
the nights are merely dark,
and the sky filters through all colors
in the spectrum of a sensational creation.
the beauty in the atmosphere is like a heaven
only dreamt about in the subconscious.
stuck in a stunning picture is much more glorifying
than painting a false one with watercolor.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Pink glares reflect across the green grass—
the sky darkens with each passing hour.
In a pitch black background,
your eyes guide each footstep toward home
like a compass when lost in a vast wilderness.
We can approach the horizon at elevated speeds.
Stay tonight, think tomorrow.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
The drinks were cold,
melting into rotten brown tables
with cracks identifying rich history.
Making a new finish,
surfacing the wood with hickory hearts
and stained smiles.
Forks turn toward one another,
puncturing the surface only to create
a mark never to be forgotten.
Conversations leaning, chairs moving,
eyes drifting toward the unknown.
The room fades as prongs gently touch.
The strength of metal draws like species
together, however guilt forces them away.
What a shame that similar utensils cannottango at dinner time.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Monday, December 28, 2009
the touch, frighteningly soft like white
bear rugs that accent deer mantels in luxury lodges.
Strikingly cold, yet warmed when fingers
run through fibers of fine fur.
stars twinkle through bay windows
And puffs of smoke rise above rooftops.
Frozen branches glisten with snow--
the picture is as simple as it is complex.
two voices echo one another as
shadows collide under unobtrusive lights.
Embracing the idea, but challenging the concept--
time melts with the capsule buried
66 inches under the foot of man.
Seasons change, grounds thaw.
Only brute strength and a shovel
can extract year s of memories from rotten soil.
Why spoil being frozen when hearts can thaw
in the dead of winter?
Thursday, December 10, 2009
A plethora of emotions
filling space in an empty cabin.
The ancient stove is running,
but bitter cold eats bugs
while killing engines in the streets.
Icicles of symmetry line the eves—
touching one another slightly,
adding weight, and causing friction
as they fall.
In bed, cuddling up with blankets,
but never feeling warmth.
The TV glares at a single shadow
who tunes out words that jumble together.
Thinking, but not writing,
Dreaming, but not breathing.
Feeling, but not acting.
Dead like the souls in the cold,
but awakened to the silence in the street.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Constantly moving internally—
memories flashing rapidly.
What happened five minutes ago becomes blurry,
but the events of 1960 are vivid and magnificent.
If only we could change places, things would become clear.
Instead of struggling for the words, they would spit out of your
mouth like a rocket launching into space.
Instead of walking through life in silence, you would hear
babies cooing, street performers singing, and guitars on the corners.
Instead of losing your once endless appetite,
you would eat French cuisine and pasta with pleasure.
If only we could change places, you could be young again.
Until then, I embrace your stories and memories of the past,
and I know you will create history tomorrow.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Protruding the surface—cutting waves into flesh
deeper than the intention of the thirstiest soul.
Traveling closer to the inward core of humanity,
until doors block emotions out, and people are left
drinking, singing, and stuttering deep into the surface of night.
Voices calling, and words become jumbled among the music,
which dollars are forced into machines only faint enough to hear.
People stepping across peanut shelled floors with skid marks,
wondering when the night will draw near, and tomorrow
will become today. Another mind, heart, and soul struggle
while rolling mindlessly away in office chairs underneath obtrusive lights.
Shuffling papers, wanting to write, and trapped in a room
thinking of you and a typewriter.
Passion before paychecks, songs before silence.
Wanting to propose, but unable to commit to anything
outside of this 8 to 5. Lights in the distance become blurred,
and it is your heart I feel through the keyboard of the day,and your body that touches me in the night.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Taking moments to reminisce the beautiful fog
pressing into mountains covered with greenery
and large sitka spruce. Boulders standing tall as waves
crash against their bodies creating a mixture of chaos
and stillness. Myriads of people grazing on cheese
and ice cream, but not here, at this heaven too far from earth.
No background noise hinting at civilization, simply pure sounds
vibrating across caves and crevices in the summer.
Standing tall—glancing at one another—drawing energy
into our thighs and down through our toes. Each view, panoramic,
each heart, full of vibrancy, each mind, euphoric.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
staggering down SW Market.
Unique foliage glistens
under dimming lights.
Walking with others,
but secretly smiling.
Stores closing their doors,
beginning to slumber and awaiting
thousands of footsteps on their backs.
Bums crawl under blankets,
crickets start to speak.
The city sleeps,tonight.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Words boggled down minds, yet bodies relaxed to the movement of muscles lengthening.
There were two things I heard the instructor say, mixed in with all of the things I avoided listening to:
“How you write an essay is how you make love... be gentle.”
“You date the same person, but with a different first name.”
Taking advice from strangers might appear rash, but his voice was subtle.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
avoiding dust and offering stillness.
Single tracks playing on the hilltop radio—
tuning into footsteps humming soft, melodic,
and lonely sounds. Free from static,
the foggy morning dews the face and creates
chilled ears more attentive to the calls of Nature.
Legs turn crimson like the blood that flows
readily through the veins which offer a fulfilled life.
Sprint, pace, sweat, serene, struggle—
Monday, June 22, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Often I wonder why I receive an abundance of blessings, when others suffer and face myriads of tribulations throughout their lives. There are times I feel unworthy of these blessings and much rather give them away to someone in need.
The purpose of my writing today is to remember this moment in time, and how ecstatically happy and peaceful I feel. I have a new addition to my family, Laddie, and want him to feel comfortable and loved. He has amazing godparents also, and without them, I would feel a sense of emptiness in my life. Not only is the sun shining through the windows, but the warmth is brightening my life.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
unspoken for numbers pinned across
light blue jerseys and race ready shorts.
No big box sponsors flashing logos
anticipating to sell more product,
and feeling physically fastened to swift legs.
Numbers moving across paved streets like gazelles
crossing the vastness of Africa in the heat
of summer, with only soft footprints
untraceable except for native inhabitants.
No pit stops, partners, or panic when following
pink and orange chalk marks guiding the way.
Only sounds of silence, swiftness, and steadiness—
breathing alone, and glorying in the still nights of summer.