No Longer Living Behind the Veil
Writing, Poetry
Free verse. Poetry. Reflections.
No Longer Living Behind the Veil
Exposed, vulnerable, scars are deep – some go unseen – just look in the eyes of another – the terror and torture of mind and body no longer hidden – beckons for love and light
Slowly she heals, one scar at a time with rhythm and rhyme
clock tick tocks- life marches on in the dark – glints of reason, art and season percolate in mind and heart
paper and pen flow within formulating words of comfort and glim
time is of the essence or so it seems until the pendulum swings back to start
healing takes time – be gentle they say – the ones who’ve trodden this road before – the ones whose hearts move like the sea gliding over the sandy shore –
healing takes time and this time is reminiscent of a time long ago, a time that only the soul knows ~ Anita Adams 6/8/2019
Earth Day
a day to remember the precious ground upon which our feet trod and the grass or sand that covers it
a day to get hands dirty, pulling weeds, trimming trees, listening to the water as it tumbles into the stream
find a place of stillness and go within, a face in the sun, a face in the wind
say thank you and plant another tree, flower, bush, or seed
enjoy your earth, your garden, your tree
Sounds and Sights of Spring
Bluejays, cardinals, mockingbirds, bluebirds, finches, doves and crows grace the backyard oasis on the first day of spring.
Blooming yellow forsythia and a bank of periwinkle with a Lenten rose in full bloom surround the waterfall as the goldfish swim in the pond below.
Grateful for ears that hear and eyes that see.
Grateful for Spring and all that spring brings.
~ Anita Adams 3/20/19
Art on the side
So much to do – so little time – art on the side.
Where to start? – at the beginning of course …
When I was young, plans just formed, play just happened, eyes were bigger, hearts and hands opened wider!
Instruments -paper, pen, pencil was best – as long as an eraser was attached at the end. Drawing commenced with my brothers and me – whatever we pleased. Watching Looney Tunes while eating Cocoa-Cocoa Crispies!
What a way to begin a Saturday or Snow Day with chocolate and art at our fingertips!
Art is imagination wide open! A place to explore with paper and pencil, sticks and music by the creek water trickles!
All is possible while looking and listening to one’s surroundings. A piece is created by the art of imagination!
Listening to Joni Mitchell while creating a collage! Two poster boards, magazines, glue, scissors, windows and a jar!
Journal out thoughts – prayers end the day. Then off to bed, dreaming of the next day’s play!
My play days ended far too soon.
However, I still dream of Art on the Side by the light of the crescent moon .
~ Anita Adams 2/23/2019
Where was love when the light went out?
Where does love go when the light goes out? A question he asked once as a young man in his 60’s . He doesn’t remember asking these days. However, the question is a good one and has remained with me. How to answer this? Love is always present within every human being I believe. For some, a place in the dark could also represent a place of silence, loneliness, or the sound of mental chatter grinding away while one wishes for a lover’s embrace.
As a child, I recall needing two doors left wide open, and a nightlight on at all times in order to feel safe enough to close my eyes and attempt to go to sleep. Where was love in this dark twin bed on the third floor of Macon Avenue?
Why was light the only key to my safety?
Where was love when this light went out?
~ Anita Adams 2/4/2019
Where’s Winter?
Here in Applachia …
land of heavy snowfalls, frost, rime ice and mistletoe
winter seems to have passed us by returning to Spring
daffodils and irises are sprouting through the brown, soggy ground
record rainfalls, fog and plenty of clouds
Where’s winter asks the worms as they squirm along the pavement looking for their home in the darkness of the earth
Where’s winter asks the fish in the pond as they swim around, confused by warm temperatures, sunshine, short days and rain
Where’s winter asks the trees as they sway back and forth confused by the winds of an early Spring…instead of Winter’s frozen ground
Where’s winter asks the farmers as their fields begin to sprout
Where’s winter asks I as I look about?
© Anita Adams 1/2019
