Feeling the air
leave your lungs
making a rush
of energy
leave your body
to turn the flame
into smoke
then cut the cake
to mark another year
of this beautiful life.
Celebrating
Growing Up
Growing up is learning how to
connect the mind to the body.
These strange days are filled with
delicate daydreams and mind games.
I follow the moon but find the sun,
listen to the waves constantly telling me
to love myself for who I am and how I see,
how I am not trying to be someone I’m not,
only someone I can look back on and
be proud of the self-awareness
I gained along the way.
Something So Lovely
You loved your garden.
You were always so proud
of the flowers that bloomed.
So much so you would pick one
to show me then put it in
a small vase on the kitchen table
then remark for days
how beautiful your flower was
and how extraordinary it was
that something so lovely
could grow from the ground
because of your love and care.
You were so patient with them,
then so happy when they’d bloom.
You called me over while kneeling
on the hill to marvel at the
colors or growth of a plant
that wasn’t doing so well
the day before. You asked me
to help you stand. I don’t move
around like I used to, you said.
I laughed, I’m impressed
you’re able to move around
like this at 85.
Every time I photograph
a flower, I think of you.
Tiny Dancer
Lives interconnect
with a single song,
a classic one
brings back memories
good and bad
when moments
occurred that were out
of their control
where destiny calls
could not be ignored
rolling down California roads
watching the sun fall below the sea
a tune comes blasting through space
a reminder of what was,
what is, what is no longer here
one person’s negativity
is another person’s positivity
how you feel when one wronged you
let it be known as you watch
balloons fly into the night sky
dance as though
this is your last night
find happiness in the dark
dance like a ballerina
making trails in the sand.
Poem – 2019. Photo – San Diego, CA. Summer 2021.
Delicate Daydreams
May I lead the way through
these delicate daydreams
along the sea
by the flowers
under the sun
I listen to music
and find peace
with what I do not know
beyond now.
Carwash
Turkeys fly into the trees,
wobbling on the branches
as they settle into the night.
The nor’easter winds
keep me up — sounds of childhood
going through the carwash
rush through my mind
as I hear water being slammed
at the windows, except nothing
is being cleaned.
A never-ending carwash
continues throughout
the night, getting louder
just as I almost
drift into sleep.
anchor
Writing is my anchor
in the sand.
What keeps me afloat
when the ocean of my mind
become choppy.
What tethers me
to the planet
when I'm floating
up in space.
The grounding space,
the safe place.
Giving me clarity
in these trying times.
Through the lines,
I write with messy
scribbles. I return
home to me,
again,
and again,
and again.
...
Haze
I wander off
into the haze
inside my brain
when horomones change
and everything balances
on the brink of insanity.
I listen to the waves,
feeling the air
leave my lungs.
When I can't see
in front of me,
I sit and wait,
wait for myself
to return.
Boat In The Window
The placement of the sails
in the frame
causes me to stop
in my tracks.
How perfect, I think.
The window overlooking
the ocean mirrors
the one facing inland,
through both, I see
possibility.
For Grandpa Boat
Extraditionary Exceptions
I am that person
who will take photos of
flowers in shopping store
parking lots
before going inside
and missing the sun.
Appreciation for the
beauty around me,
especially when
it's finite, will never
not be crucial in
my mind.
For it reflects what
I want to see in
the reality we live in,
finding the extraditionary
exceptions in
an ordinary day.
Kelly Severseike 