Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Visiting the Willows

I went visiting the willows just before twilight fell ... the Earth free of Her tomb tent mask at last ... I am able to walk on now past season's fawny grass, still clinging to how I felt about you even then ... my boots fondly smiling back at me as if they found a purposeful shared trail I had left off of all too suddenly, when the ice bound me in ... that it could mean something more than I had simply walked this way before ... The slight descent of the hill led to the muddy water and the broken willows' bank edge home ... the hungry mouse had lain bare the inner white fleshy meat of the wood given way from her Winter's hunger ... the crust of old bark now brightening with spring green smiles of twiggy dreams and sprouting prospects lying elsewhere along the still waking branches ... The phantom rose buds which had gathered to tinge the vanishing sky with their pink promises to come fell invisibly melting into the lake's freshly thawed moist mirror ... it has only just begun to bloom with the first signs of green algae turned the hinted kisses of a Maxfield Parrish illumination ... now muted mauve and dusty roses not unlike pictures my Grandma Thomas would save from an old birthday card taped to her living room wall, an oddness I am proud to continue of her's ... I recall when I was two, a visit, the room alive with cards, flowers on the dining room archway like a float to a child ... she's in my heart in the way these pinks rapture into blazing scarlet if I can stand still long enough ... if I let them come to me ... fill me ... fill you ... I wonder, at times, if you perhaps, have lit a candle or stoked the fire ... am I seeing your glow also ? I know you glow ... I feel you ! ... I am old fashioned, despite what one might think, people don't connect like this anymore ... seems we are all evolving past this sort of Oneness to reach Oneness ... to find our "in the end all you have is yourself~ness" ... It's a shame really ... for none of us can do it alone ... I can't write this without the little mouse ... perhaps, the same one I helped out of the dog food sack the other night when she was trapped ... put my hand down and she hopped on for a ride outside, looking back, trusting ... With the Spring warmth the catfish will be laying eggs soon ... their beds there at the edge of the hazel brush and willow ... the water is shallow ... the mud deep ... they build their hap hazard honeycomb maze spawn cities of grey clay houses ... it is in this Oneness the Sunshine is held ... pocket glisten egg mounds reminding us what Summer is for ... We should all have a human summer ... let it run through us ... liquid spirit fire solar flares awakening who we know ourselves to be.  

from I Vowed to Dig Darkly
© 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, March 20, 2014

In the Night ...

In the night your presence was assured ... be you word wielding warrior or my stricken victim, ... amber strong honey and warm milk in which to swim ... blood, womb, vine, and spin ... bright love, tongue lust, grey mold, or musk leading bloom ... mountains who bent to kiss fog met valleys … tree lines whispering tales of empty rooms ... the ocean spray, and rain wished upon vapor ... the edge of a meadow in Summer doom … the Winter swept silence of snowy tombs … conjure a thought it was born in the East ... cause a prayer it was offered at your temple … I have been praying for many a long day ... chants to the beating bowl of my heart's culling beats ... striping the waters with red disdain as the Lotus rose ... mud toes gripping holes about my own flow ... light, oh light how I have darkened you so ... a shadow of Self hushed even by the gloaming … I have come to love a humbled oracle ... a vessel Goddess sight unseen ... washed in the joy that I might know ... there is a truth of my seeking you ... in the night, in the moonlight, upon the window sashes, or tears I care not repent of ... for I found you when the Lotus rose ... in the yellow light ... and when I met this morning's Sunrise.

© 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Before I Go

One more sight of your sky before I go ... to plant the stars ... your words in velvet evening memories ... trickle down the sideboards of time ... gathering the edges of the cobblestones to bloom ... tender mosses and  lichen pods I might lie diminutive ... small  in mind's play ... near a vine laden heavy of black grapes and olive spray ... to await you ...

© 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved

Faint Hints of Spring

© 2014 Photo Credit Nelda Dunlap All Rights Reserved

Strolling out to the pond behind the big lake set my mind at ease for a time ... the melt puddling about my boots as I plodded along through the half slush state of snow and ice ... the smaller trees where easily out of the  cover now though a few of the birch still bore some signs of frozen character hanging on about their nooks and crannies ... I had an easy go of it making my way up the outer bank of the levy to the pond where I encountered an enchanted phaery ring of ice and brittle bramble pretending to be ... the center seeming cut to fit the Moon's fancy itself ... white silver polished pearl in the Sun's morning magic ... such a smile came across my lips ... I swore I could hear the turtle stirring with still slightness at my thoughts of their Summer frolicking in the moss and wood water land before me ... The cypress are still bare of needles ... their lay below them an Earthen mat on auburn delicate fans through which the little ones will make their way back through when they hatch in early Spring ... on this day I am reminded of when my Mother used to paint leaves and branches with copper and gold paint in the Winter ... setting about the house all manner of sparkling sticks with red berries and cones with glitter dust ... She taught us to love the Earth and never take for granted the true beauty in the most simple tapestry She might lay before us ... I look so forward to Autumns colors ... to the beauty and delicate structures Winter inhabits ... I pray for Spring each year when the bitterness has become far too much to bear any longer ... and in those few short weeks of Summer I love as blindly and wildly as I possibly can ... for the blossom and the fruit are gone far too soon to take another form ... find renewal in the proper pattern ... and all is as it was intended ... for us to find hope in these faint signs of Spring and ourselves be renewed and perhaps ...

© 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved

Monday, March 17, 2014

Words ...

Words ... they bunch about inside my pen nib mumbling little white lies to the paper, which spends countless hours attempting to coax them out of their crusty sacked mage ... stumble about on top of the other, each pushing those weaker to the breech first ... none of them brave enough to actually make birth, in light or take flight ... the parchment promises electric tinsel smooth and hot ... imagined hands across my back, I have never been touched before ... your's ... in a way that pauses breath, fingertips, matchbooks tinder along the tendrils of my scattered curls ... turning to look and see who is there ... beyond skin or swollen lips ...  just who my hips cradled, love, a lullaby away ... the wind knows why Winter refuses to relent ... my window still frozen fast about it's purple sashes ... toes frost bitten from dreams of running through your Spring rain showers ... I pull the sky about my failures, you call them sins, and I rest ... soon enough this red ink will flow for want of the least forgiveness ... paper will have won it's plight ... and my hand will tell through pen from heart's swell ... the sorrows of my night ... words are mere madness without you ...  as is the thought of love. 

© 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved

Newest Release from My Friends at Lindentree

Soul Surrender
by Lindentree

Lindentree is one of the most unique voices in the Indie world today. I am so blessed to be acquainted with their energy and asked to speak about their amazing offerings to us, the universal audience. It is always a great honor for me because each time Brent does so I know I am going to have a growth level happen in my Soul. 

"Soul Surrender", is no different than their prior releases in that it is a life changing piece of music. It is an hymn to Mother Earth and the children we spiritually embody. Though we are merely a fraction of those souls ,Lindentree ever attains the turning of the cosmic key in the lock of perceptional stagnation and frees the bird from the gilded cage inside our human holding cells, as another poet said of the flesh this week. It is impossible not to follow their symphonic suggestion "close your eyes .. move your body around ..." to the deep well beat of the drums opening your heart to unity strumming the soul "surrender to the sound" is the call we answer as OneVoice ... "to the harmony of a brand new day ... deep inside you hear a soulful sound... free your mind ... move your body around ..." 

This song is a celebration of our ability to open to a deeper and more joyous level while being embraced by the light and conscious guidance of Mother Earth in order to walk a more enlightened and daily tactile path with the spirits of our companions in and upon Her loving home body ... the trees, rocks, mammals, reptiles, stars, Sun, Moon, water, wind, and All we call our Brothers and Sisters. 

With my Loving Gratitude to Lindentree,

Brightest Blessings,
Carla Dawn

© 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved

Lun~attic Conversation

My friend called tonight because it was the full moon and he couldn't sleep. It was also for the reason that he knew I couldn't sleep either. He's nice that way, tuned in and we share with each other these secret conversations which only happen when the tides are in alignment.

"All men are horses", he told me. "you know they only want what they want from you, Carla. They can never go any deeper. You have to accept that somehow and resolve yourself to it." I never want to hear those sorts of things from him. I'd rather pretend there is something real and tangible out there somewhere waiting for me. Doesn't everyone wish for that somewhere inside themselves or do we poets do all the wishing for the lot of us? I wonder sometimes. Mine is so deep, as he said.

Never having been shown much love in my life I try to give as much as I can. This concept became very intense for me when I experienced a loss several years ago. At the time, I did not even know what it meant to me except that I would never know this person again in the same way, see their face in the light of the Earth. The grief was so devastating I wept for a full year daily. At the end of this time I was a changed being. I had come to know love from an entirely different perspective and spiritual level. I was able to see love, when withheld, in a new light also. The pain was still present yet, it was transmuted into a growth lesson from the standpoint of the observer. A kind of distraction began to become a tool for me to use in coping. Not a detachment. A simple coping mechanism within myself to be able to deal without blame upon the other person for not loving me. This is difficult when it is a close relative, friend, or someone you have fallen in love with. You must be able to withstand the pain while helping them with their spiritual growth and allowing yourself to grow as well. It is an abiding task. It is a task which can be accomplished and it is an honor so worthy of gifting and receiving to or from another.

Yet, all men are horses is not where I want to find myself. 

© 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved

Sunday, March 16, 2014

A new work in progress

I had planned to write a book. A novel of sorts about my life and spiritual experiences. I have had quite a life in my 49 years actually. A strange and interesting life. A challenging life full of growth and introspection. At many times my life has been very difficult and sad, as has much of humankind's collective experience therefor I count myself not extraordinary in this way. Instead of creating this work. I have chosen, having been inspired yet again by my beloved and most favorite poet, to create a new work of poetry, prose, and utterances. It is aptly entitled, "I Vowed to Dig Darkly". Some of the pieces have already been added to this blog and some will not be published until the book is completed this fall. This is a challenge set forth to me. A challenge to grow as a writer, a human being, a woman most definitely, a global being, a friend, a participant in what we refer to as Life's Personal Journey, and as an observer of the inside of my own mind and voice. This is not something I want to do. Then, of course, it is something I desperately need and should do. Anyone who has read my "Speaking with Shadows" book has had a bit of a glimpse into the side of me which made me a firm believer in the power of Love and Peace in our lives and being capable of working daily miracles. Those few of you who know me personally or have ever met me know I am terribly complicated and oh so simple. It can be a frightening thing to keep up after that much space, that much ~in between~ all the time. I never choose fear when I can choose love. I believe, learning how to activate ourselves on our chosen paths is not the hardest part. Activating and staying engaged in the face of all we have been told we cannot accomplish, we cannot face, we cannot overcome is the monster we must keep on the leash, as "Tower of Power" would say.  I did make a vow to dig darkly. It was a promise really and promises should be kept. I vowed to overcome that which holds me back in the places and spaces in my life, in my soul, which I need to surpass to become all that I can become. To know myself to the depths I encourage others to know their selves. I always say, Don't be afraid you can do anything. Shall we see ?
© 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved

Golden Slumbers

The Beatles
Uploaded by

The moon was white,
the other night,
all rung about with eggy yellows... 
Between these hues,
danced brilliant blues,
alive with deadly gallows ...
For I wandered out,
into the night,
to avoid your sleepless hallows ...
Only to find,
you on my mind,
beneath my skin, and in my jowls ...
I howled for hell,
I cried for light,
I crept along the madder ...
My broken spirit,
frozen still,
She watching mortal scatter ...
About the hillsides,
sicken sad,
conversing with a blather ...
She turned toward home,
once more to climb,
the Golden Slumber's ladder...
from "I Vowed to Dig Darkly"  © 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, March 13, 2014

All i ever wanted from You was your Love

I've always been a simple girl in the most complicated of ways ... the boys who didn't make the grade for being strange and ill faced caught my eye and fancy ... they would dance with you in the dirt road barefoot to the music of the new moon ... watch beavers build a dam in the heat of August, no shade, ending up sun burnt and still be smiling at you the next day in school ... we talked of the strangest things from how deep a galaxy could ever possibly be ... to the proper way his Grandmother taught him to string a bean ... their secrets were more fascinating than you could ever imagine anything up in your own mind ... and you knew your kisses were the most precious gift you had ever given them ... for they treated you as if your's were the first every single time ... Oh yes, the boys thought ugly or odd or strange ... they were the ones who would love you with no restraint ... I married a man like that once ... like you, a poet, a lover, an addict, lost soul dim view of how to find a way from the bottle to who he needed to be to love me ... he's still seeking for that clue to when it all comes into focus ... you ... on the other hand have a clear view of what has been offered and what you chose to do with me ... I didn't stutter between the lines or otherwise ... I was simply nothing you wanted, could choose, felt love for ... my human self ~ flesh cage too much a dullard for your genius ... I am a child of the Macro-cosmic Mother Nature ... you Her Pseudo Scientific Micro-Cosmic Lover ... paradoxical far reaching vision ... yet, all i ever wanted from You was your Love ... I guess now we can be through with it all and move on ... 

from "I Vowed to Dig Darkly"
© 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Six Days Out

There is never time enough to stop in the middle of being at a dead run at all times …
tell the world to go away and write to you when you need it the most …
My moments run into hours and my hours into days …
with every heartbeat being strung on the same strand …
until it grows so heavy by a cord about my neck ...
I begin to notice I can no longer take those deep breaths …
which were the pauses I would demand to read your poems ...
I begin to miss the smiles you brought or the confusion …
which opened perception's doors and deepened my concentration lines …
At this moment I sit in the first solitude I have had …
for six days wanting to find an explanation …
There is none other than I let those who care not take me away …
because I love myself less than I can believe others ever will …
The saddest part being, it is a truth on which I can count so readily …
one that I dare not step from this view …
How I wish I knew I could for I would love to dance with you …
feed your I wants, make doors, and floors, and reach through.

from "I Vowed to Dig Darkly"  © 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

dVerse~ Poets Pub: it’s a micro/macro world

© 2013 Photo Credit Nelda Dunlap

The starlight of my being
is resting,
in the omnipresent cape
of your black galaxy.
If our only light
is to be absence of,
Winter white
 shall be our dreams
for Spring.

© 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved

Friday, March 7, 2014

Emptying my morning mind ... one

It's Friday morning, I need to be Tweeting my #FF, and Jack won't get off my lap. Jack is a cat. A very big cat. It doesn't matter that he slept curled up in my arms most of the night with his purr engine starting again each time I rolled over and he had to crawl across me, shimmying under the covers backwards down just to his ears once more to give me kisses then drift away. Jack, the Cowboy Cat, as he is known for his black and white cow like patches and breaking out in spontaneous evening choruses of yippie yi yo all too often, was found in a corn field in the middle of Summer. It was hot and dry as hell that year. Jack's eyes are the softest sea foam green you will ever see desiring to be the white of a pearl. How he survived I will never know sickly as he was, starving, yet he could smell the water condensation in the field of corn. Jack is a very intelligent cat. He meowed for so long when my sister and I rescued him, days not moments, that I called him Jabber Box with great affection. He was a difficult rescue. Not because of any physical issues or keeping him with us, as some tend to go back where you found them. You still can't step without his being there to guide you or follow. No, Jack had deeply personal issues on his mind and I don't speak cat. I tried, being flawed and human, to instruct the youngster in how things needed to be done. We were both hopeless. Nothing went right from day one until I, in tolerable frustration, began to ask him questions. "Jack, do you really want to be doing that?" as he climbed the kitchen curtains for the fifth time that morning. To my delight he stopped and must have been in contemplation as he dropped to the floor. This was the key with Jack as I suppose it might be with many of us. To this day conversations are held in the form of question and answer genre with Jabber Box. He is the most grateful child I have ever had and shows love in so many ways from his speech, to hugs, tries to clean my hands while I write, works as a functioning guard dog waking me up if he hears strange noises. He comes unglued running from wherever he is when I sing or try to play the guitar, is a huge YouTube junkie, and talks in his sleep.
© 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved

the blind lantern: tree, sound, shh...

the blind lantern: tree, sound, shh...: painting by Luis Ricard Falero (1851-1896) verisimilitude renditions (smiles that feed) I want photo-ops scratch and sniff in...

Thursday, March 6, 2014

The Blues in the Coming Green

"Blue in Green" Miles Davis
Uploaded on Nov 2, 2007

Today ... it is cold inside my little house ... I pull on my holey sweater and make another cup of coffee ... in the single serving, cup by cup ~ insta-pot which defines me so well these days ... black and hot, cream and brown sugar ... wrap my hands around the hip ample mug ... dissolving my loneliness for a few moments ... I swore off penning love poems because of you ... they left me too exposed to thorns in the wee hours of the morn' ... those stolen moments when I awaken next to the screen, pretending moonlight ... to see if you've left a word or two quietly folded on the window sill ... though not for me, I (like the moonlight) pretend too ... we all must have some saving grace when we come to Truth  it's willing disciple and leave a warrior ... now a days, I am introspection's fool picking apart the mirror and the vestiges alike ... for how you found so many flaws that were being neglected ... when love was all my heart knew ... and growth was it's full time obsession ... I am scrying the outpost of imagination as Spring is making Her final moves for check mate with Winter ... His rooks revealed mortal in the shadow of Her smile ... the edges of the lake are beginning to soften ... drawing a faint line through which the song of thawing can escape at last ... un-muffled by the necessary shushing as not to wake the sleeping sky bears ... the birds are returned to nest and create the air filled with the songs of love I so desperately want to breathe, I need to breathe to survive and be whole ... I stroll through the pages of the now arriving seed catalogs to take my mind off of you ... green beans and summer squash, bushel gourds and lovely rows of heirloom red okra, golden beets and purple carrots ... these are my love poems of the soon coming season ... though when I close my eyes, I can see the glow of Heaven's Iris gardens in bloom ... their scents your arms about my waits line ... above a hip slack skirt ... thunder calling in the distance for rain to run your fingers through my hair ... grant electricity ... shape midnight ... smother my breasts with the sheen of Miles Davis' "Blue in Green" ... chaos candles burnt on the ground where we supped on each other's divinity ... angel cradled wishing away of all the gloom ever felt between us ... leaving love's bright bite mark ... an agreeable tattoo of spiritual glue ... O' there would be no simple rapture with you ... a bliss ... a shatter sweet swooned refuge I want to dip even a toe into and plunge myself purple with your wicked wine ... would we drink each other dry or end up marooned, one bottle of Sherry to ration ... I always thought you worth the heartache, the risk, the gamble, and the try ... even if it left us too soon at least the thirst would have purple ink and be well ... but, I am a believer in everything ... especially you and so my blues are all fading into the coming green of Spring ... leaving all Winter waded behind. 
© 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved


In truth ... if I could claim your sentiments ... I would be drown in Absinthe's joys ... I feel you to my marrow in a constant sublime ...
© 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved

Saturday, March 1, 2014

Word Play 2014 Three The Lion

The Lion

The mountain lion scrowled across the shudder safe close of day, which had taken rest upon the far hill, to observe the arrival of evening's aqua tide. Her voice drained and composed safety from those unable to hear her true voice. For myself, a willing soul, her message came as a bell might toll one awake to conscious thought,"Girl, you know what's coming for you?" and I do.

He stalks with hind scented purpose along the river's path guided by the wisdom of the weeping birch above. Their canopy holding back the evidence of Winter's false thawing hopes before a yet another approaching storm filters through the lace of their sullen Earth blessed branches. The have become clouds white walled with the intent of a lover wishing to press body to body revealing a soul's secret verse.

A pair of sand cranes buffing against the western sunset, pink as a perch and yellow bellied salmon turn South again having met the harsh lingering here. Their visit uninvited by this apricot warmth of the Sun's barren promise for Spring soon coming as he steps out onto the ice jam of the motionless Mississippi River. The spread span pads of his tough paws no match for and sliced by the ice's sharp name red rich blood running hot on the white blue scales of water's repentance. He stops bit for a moment here, a heart wondering can it draw back gifted love frozen fast in it's bitter scorn. The whispering water's flow below cradles his summer longing and he assures himself, he can reach the other shore where she without doubt awaits him. 

© 2014 C.D.D. All Rights Reserved