Scattered To The Wind

Scattered To The Wind

What brings you to my side

little fallen leaf?

What colorful stories have you to tell?

Will you share with me some hidden treasures

once carried by the wind high

into your lofty abode?

NO ~ the little leaf said, startled!

I only come to sit with you awhile

to rest a fleeting moment

while on my journey.

My name is Scattered To The Wind

but all of my treasured secrets

reside within my heart ~

protected.

You may have met my mother ~

her name is Never To Be Revealed.

She taught me well.

Then slowly rising up, the little fallen leaf smiled

as he swirled and swirled into the waiting sky ~

gleefully ~ gratefully ~

Scattered To The Wind.

 Pretty and soulful.  It reverberates with a high degree of resonance. It reminds me of my secret garden.

Thank you obe :slight_smile: I appreciate that. I kind of thought it was sweet. That’s what I thought of it when it was finished. I was sitting in the living room early yesterday (Sunday) morning drinking my coffee and listening to classical music. I happened to get up and look out the window and saw all of the scattered leaves across the street in the park. And it popped into my head then and there to write a really short funny kind of poem, which yes, at the same time resonated for me with some kind of meaning. You have no idea how happy and joyful I felt as I creating it…kind of like a little girl sitting on the ground and making mudpies. :laughing: The “gleeful” in the penultimate line was probably as a result of my feeling gleeful as I wrote it. It only took about ten minutes to write. :blush:

I kind of wanted to spread my wings a bit, even if the journey was a much shorter one. My poems are not so long as some in here are but I want to write much shorter ones which also have some hidden or otherwise meaning to them which are capable of making at least some resonate. Melding is the shortest poem I’ve ever written but that also gave me joy. That poem also has a meaning but perhaps it’s like something which one might miss if one blinks one’s eyes. :laughing: Maybe the joy has been brewing and bubbling up in me lately - I’ve certainly needed it -trust me.

I was also inspired the other day by a very short poem by Charles Bukowski - only two lines it had. But when I read it, it was an aha moment for me. Shivers…I can’t remember the name of it but the word “symphony” was in it. Two short lines resonated within me - such qualia. If I can find it, I’ll send it to you. Maybe it was about the rain. Rain IS a wonderful symphony - to me. So, his poem inspired me to write less. Less is often so much more you know. :laughing: Well, it is, you know.

Funny you should mention Bukovsky. I worked with him when he was writing Post Office, we both worked at Terminal annex, Los Angeles, right next to Alavera street a mexican square block of shops and restaurants. It was the mail distribution at nights. I just mention this in passing, he was a very heavy drinker on the job and off, later I quite the job, never knew he wrote, and after a longest time I scavenged in a bookstore and saw his novel Post Office signed, bought it, and after he passed sold it to pay into my oldest son education.

It’s so odd, though what a small place this planet earth is!

Regarding your poems, well it’s lovely, it’s sort of like a still life, and loving parks myself, it has an aura of shared feelings there. The part of my park which I have to drive to, now that I moved, is so special to me, that on all the earth, it has become crystalized perhaps like no other internalised image.

I was looking at art one time in a art store, and I bought a fine oil original landscape, so close to my hidden place in my park, that I bought it, whereby starving for the next six months. It needs restoration, but one day I will get around to it. I will take a photo of it, and post it on the favourite art OP, and I would appreciate an opinion.

So now, all I have to do, even if I may not go to the park, I can sit in front of the painting and almost be there. Sometimes it’s seems that the artist created it just for me.

Thanks for the verbal landscape.: as always,

A leaf personified, I think that was well done.

Thank you Stuart. We might be quite surprised the voices which some things have if we only listen to them. :-$

oops

obe

By “never knew he wrote”, you mean you didn’t know that he was a writer? Okay, dumb question, arc. :blush: :laughing: I wonder, how would that have changed things for you? I would have loved to meet him, sit down and have coffee with him. I would love to meet everyone.

Yes, it certainly is. It’s incredible, inspiring and scary at the same time, isn’t it?

Thank you obe. :slight_smile:

Sometimes we just never know what’s in us until it pops out. We have so many different voices within us. Writing is so awesome - allowing those voices to come alive and speak to us. Poor voices, how very many of them remain silent

That is the way I feel about [my] park. It’s a sacred place in a sense - well it is.

I look forward to seeing your private landscape.
I was at Kohl’s one day. I always like to go and look at the pictures when I am there. I saw this one which I actually found it difficult to move away from so i was there for a time, just enjoying it. It was beautiful and so simple at the same time. It was of a dock and the ocean. There was such a beautiful solitude and quietness/stillness about it. I envisioned myself walking slowly down that dock to the edge of it, which jutted out into the ocean - all alone in the world, just myself the dock and the ocean. :laughing: And I envisioned myself as simply standing there and looking out at all of that water. It almost felt as though I was at the edge of the universe or at least the Earth. I didn’t want to share that with anyone. I wanted it all to myself. Greedy, aren’t I? Once in a while, I will close myself and “put” myself back into that picture - and I am there, standing at the edge of that dock at one with it and the ocean. It’s not really an easy thing to express, what happens in moments like that. I know it’s not “real” almost like being in the matrix :laughing: but at the same time, it becomes real and it transports me to another place, a “real” place which happens within the mind or somewhere…

Maybe the artist did create it for you. :wink: Who knows. What’s the saying ~ "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. (Hamlet)
ah, and that is oh so true. It just boggles my mind sometimes. Sometimes it’s difficult not to let your reason run away with your imagination and passion…but sometimes we MUST do just that. Or die!

You are quite welcome, obe. Raison de etre and all that, you know.