Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘dreams’


Without you.

loneliness

within

has claimed me

completely

which helps

this pen

to pour its ink

upon these

pages

words from a wounded heart

which has realized

the truth

of the years

which do not lie

the dreams of a soul

which has learned

to appreciate

Life size statue of a woman at Oak Grove Cemetery in La Crosse, Wisconsin

the bitterness

of the tears

which stain

my cheeks

Tis true

we lie our heads

down to sleep

under the same moon

Tis true

the sun rises

each morning

kissing the dew away

every day

without you

Kimberley Formosa © 2011

Advertisements

Read Full Post »


That is all it was

The Willow Tree Fountain. Chatsworth.

Just a few days

Not a lifetime

A collision of emotion

escorted by memories

strengthened by

loneliness

likened to the force

of a glorious fountain

wit and wisdom

immediately

smothered

the flow of life

Hope of affection

Fell incredulously

Deserved

Broken

Understood

Never to be forgotten

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 »


If there was anything more

I could have done for you

to heal the pain

that struck

your heart

the ache

your mind

the nightmares

your spirit

the tears

mingled with prayers

the betrayal of one

the youngest

that stole away

the beat of your heart

your hopes and dreams

the breath of your life

After walking

that long

dry

hard

path

with you

holding your hand

singing as you prayed

I promise to you

not to allow

the same

to happen

to me

Born from my womb

some stay

some stray

I choose to live

and love

to find the beauty

in every breath

She didn’t die

She stopped living

Then she was dead

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 »


My Angel

 Blue eyes

and hazel

A legacy of love born

From out of youth’s devotion

 Parted ways cause

Lonely days

Sharing now

the

Lingering beauty of the heavens

the

Longing hope of our dreams

and the

Splendid memories of our first

Starry night

 The beauty of two intertwined

In my mind

and

Forever in heaven

 My Angel 

 

Heaven Can Wait

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kimberley Formosa © 2011

 

 

 

Read Full Post »


Dedicated to Lacey.

A chocolate morsel of a moral.

A sign of character

Inner Strength

Fortitude

Heart

Spirit

 

Is so often viewed during times of success

Climbing the Ladder

Acceptance

The Winner Takes All

Victory

Scholarship

Promotion

Gold Medal

 

Yet it is in my

Trials of enduring the unknown, fear, pain

Attempts to better myself and the lives I encounter

Choice to bring beauty, hope, peace into my world

Devotion to remain true to my God and those I love

Conscious decision that ultimately

reflects my attitude toward either

promoting the positive or the adverse

in any given moment

 

My character should not be measured by my success

but by the path I walk.

 

Which brings me now to the title of this poem,

that obviously took me to a place I knew not of

when I first contemplated the idea of

 

Chocolate Mousse

 

I know of a young girl

of who shall I say

has had a burden to bear

for the last eight months

of her teenage life.

She has been

Accused of portraying her injury by both adults and her peers.

These accusations have been made publicly.

          Privately whispered in her ear.

                   Rumored from one to another.

In front of her.                                      Behind her back.

All of these accusations were committed and endured

repeatedly for quite a long time.

To be followed by a few apologies. Not many, not all, only a few.

Finally, after all of the accusations quiet, or so we may assume since we have heard of none recently, her physical symptoms escalate. She is faced with the reality and possibility of two debilitating and fearful diseases. What does this young girl do at the end of the day?

She does something beautiful.

She makes Chocolate Mousse.

Not the instant kind. Oh no.

The egg yolk

Whipping heavy cream

Melting lovely chocolate

Blending it all together

Until a heavenly loveliness

Is rendered by her

Caring and thoughtful ways.

And then she shares.

At the end of her day

She focuses on hope

Living her life to prove it.

Where do you find yourself when most everyone you respect turns their back on you? She had to advocate for herself in many situations where adults were in complete defiance, not only to their chosen profession, but to an ailing child. Those that had the power to help her rallied together and claimed they had “no obligation” to help her. They had “no obligation” to care for her needs unless it was included on a signed legal agreement. Really, I am telling you the truth. They had “no obligation.” Bear with me here as I write it one more time to coincide with how many times they communicated it verbally and written about an injured child. “We have no obligation…”

From out of pain, beauty.

 

Are you strong enough to remain beautiful when your health, your livelihood and even your life are in jeopardy of never being who you were before tragedy strikes? Can you even endure the thought that your tomorrow may never be? Can you lay your head down to slumber knowing that you chose not to be obligated to another human being when it was indeed in your power to initiate change?

Will you make Chocolate Mousse

Bake cookies or bread

Smile in the mirror

Pick a flower

Call an old friend

Be kind to yourself

Or another

Or maybe a stranger

Would you rather be greeted by dreams of peace

because you have thus spent your day?

Giving has such a remarkable way of lingering

Within the very heart that chose to give.

Kimberley Formosa © 2011

http://markconner.typepad.com/ A Picture of HOPE January 23, 2011

http://www.biapa.org/site/c.iuLZJbMMKrH/b.1841279/apps/s/content.asp?ct=4538465

http://www.biapa.org/

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »