Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Nature’ Category


For Mary Saflin who was 72, Kimberly Griffith who was 45, and her two daughters, Brenna, age 12 & Mikaela, age 8.

Five days after

their lives were lost

I drove along

Washington Boulevard

Loss hit me as I

Realized

Destruction

Benign

Debris strewn

Precariously

by Raging waters

in a place they

did not belong

upon grassy areas

in the woods

dry mud upon the road

where rain

had pelted the earth

whose belly

could hold no more

Swollen

Engorged

every weakness

Divulged

this road became

a wild

Phantom river

I cried

I prayed

I turned my head

and learned

just how high

those waters were

I wonder why the leaves survived?

the leaves of the bushes

and trees were

Painted by an

Artist of Death

dried earth

high upon the trees

there was one leaf

that had dried mud

only half way up

this was the place where

Devastation resigned

Tomorrow

rain will fall

Tomorrow

rain will attempt

to take away

Memories of today

wiping away

the bits of dried earth

from where

they don’t belong.

Kimberley Formosa © 2011

Read Full Post »


There he was

surprising me

with a wink

and a great

bright smile

of joviality

just a few inches

above the

eastern horizon

beckoning the

blackened

star struck

sky

to graciously

bear lovely

hues of blue

so my prayers

may bring

me back

to this desert

placed along

side the Pacific

as it thunders

upon its’ edges

sending breezes

to caress me

as I close my eyes

to dream

Kimberley Formosa © 2011

Read Full Post »


Early

this morning

the song of a bird

of which was unfamiliar

to me

greeted me as I was

awakening

Art Print by Gayle Montayo

drawing me close

to the window

I could not

see the One

who was singing

so beautifully

for the leaves of green

upon the trees

are so lush

and bounteous

this time of year

He is near me

I cannot see Him

But I can hear Him

call me to Him

Kimberley Formosa © 2011

Read Full Post »


“I remember I used to half believe and wholly play with fairies when I was a child. What heaven can be more real than to retain the spirit-world of childhood, tempered and balanced by knowledge and common-sense..” Beatrix Potter’s Journal, 17 November 1896 National Trust collection

If I were supping

at a small oak table

set before a blazing fire

with hot soup steaming

before my face

and warm crusty bread

with sweet butter

melting there on

and Earl Grey

keeping my hands warm

If at this table

by my side

engaging in the most

delightful conversation

were Beatrix herself

Then I would not complain

of another

gray

hazy

foggy

rainy

chilly

May day

“…and as I was quietly tramping about in the old wood, there I spotted him!” she said.

Kimberley Formosa © 2011

Read Full Post »


Standing here

In this puddle of mud

It’s not that I want to be standing here in this mud puddle.

This is where I am.

Standing in a puddle.

But look over there.

 

 

A beautiful little flower.

That is where I will let my eyes rest.

my eyes

my soul

my dreams

Will look upon the flower.

Where I am does not define what I see.

Kimberley Formosa © 2011

Read Full Post »


My heart lies neither across the meadow

so simple and so pure

Nor beyond the stream

pondering here or even over there

My heart lies not upon the wildflower

whispering in the wind

Nor in the arms of the willow

so safe and so secure

The meadows are the heavens

where all creation is viewed

The stream runs through my soul

quenching me deep within

The wildflower is another sown

bringing forth yet one more

The willow

deep and great

broad and graceful

holds true to the earth and the sun

and to the fondest dream

ever to be won

My heart looks to the heavens

and follows the meandering stream

My heart shares its love again

and seeks the truth

of the untold dream

Kimberley Formosa © 2010

Read Full Post »

Summer Breezes


I came upon a scent

a scent of pine today

actually

the scent found me

found me all alone

swirling around my body

my body became quite still

this bouquet

stole every thought away

denied were

my eyes their sight

my hands their touch

overpowered by this bouquet

this bouquet to savor

my existence became enraptured

enraptured with complexity

complexity rooted in

richness and diversity

I opened my eyes

my eyes could find

no pine

Kimberley Formosa © 2010

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »