Full Circle

My message to me, the author, I wrote then shared with others, the readers of Dear Daisy…

live your life…be who you are…do not be afraid…have faith…move past…do not let others hold you back or to deliver you where you do not wish to follow…see the mirror God reflects through water…take pleasure in life…have fun…receive God’s abundance…it is all designed for you…become the child you were created to be and are…return to who you once were, the child of hope and dreams…be one with God and Nature…record your footsteps…build your dreams…feed your soul…and live your life through your Spirit, simple...be one with God…sharing God’s abundance through your gifts as given from Heaven…and so you will give back on Earth…feed your timeless eternal soul, preserve and replenish the Earth tho’ life measured in seconds and days…stay true to the discovery…on your path remain...it was designed and written for you.


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In Search of Words

Days and Nights In Search of Words

(portions of original draft, written 2002)

I have found in my efforts to write
time passes more quickly when in pursuit of words,
capture even more elusive.

Early rise to catch first movement;
a thought already begun in dreams predawn.
The rush, the passion of the hunt,
some need of the hunter, I’m sure.

Words and time fuse.
Words-abstract and floating,
a moment of hesitation, then stalled,
next to appear on page by limit of hand speed.

How quickly they dodge, get lost, or move on
untrapped, always untamed
to the untrained hunter such as I.

Discipline, more needed I suppose
and time scheduled for just this cause, I am certain.
Still game arrives more spontaneous for me.

Work harder at play?
or Play harder at work?
True Writer, the real one would only know.

Always in thought or pursuit of
the words. Serious, maybe not.

Or, me merely a daydreamer
and words interrupt
trying to find their place in an otherwise perfect fog.

If only my mind could focus
on one story, even one thought.
Then again maybe or maybe not.

For all stories must be told
and nice to know that my mind has full supply.
The gift of a full life; many stories to tell.
The promise-a mind that refuses to unwind
and a heart that beats on in pace as best it can
with my desire.

Guide thy Hand, Mind, and Heart
And may abstract transform to concrete
In this time and the next
‘Tho long ago I lost track of time.

-Janie

Written in some hour between one dawn and starlit dawn of another
but I haven’t a clue the hour and wish not to be exact.

Seasons of a writer's heart

And so, I opened my heart to my heart’s desire, to write.

Honoring those who were teaching me by their example;
their stories of seasons of living

then life-death and choice each step along the path…

And my own life, teaching me, too…

Truth of transitions...
keep it simple and if it is not an absolute “yes” then it is a definite “no”,
and “follow your heart”.

Two lines came to mind.

Peace be my winter. I pray. I hope.
I write somehow to make it so.


Then these words came next…in a time of heart then locked between Winter and Spring.
Much like the Winter-Spring of this season change of 2007,
in a place along the Southern Shoreline of Lake Ontario.


Written April, 2005

(an excerpt attached here...)


Peace Be My Winter

Peace be my winter
The one today.
Even more so
that one tomorrow.

I do wish for gentle snows to fall
Enough to cover.
Quiet, break silence
footsteps crunching the frozen
Just enough to tell me life is still
Around me.

Seasons told by trees and color of land,
Birds flocking and overhead skies,
The waves or none like glass
Early morning or nights
on Lake Ontario.

Thaws to new beginnings
Buds bloom apple and peach
the locals call favorite
Mine, too.

Leave buds of Maple and Oak
One day just popping
On some schedule,
secret, mystery to all
save One and Mother.

If I noticed.

(Summer season omitted here)

The reds of Maples
And the Sycamores
That’s how Upstate
called home is known
In times, named Autumn.

(and some of Autumn lost here on page as well)

Sleep or wake dream
My Soul at home
Snuggled in
under blanket of comfort,
in a place called home.

Next Season or Next Place to be...
Along the southern Shoreline of Lake Ontario.

-Janie