Happy 14th Birthday Daniel

Books on the shelves,

live in your being,

dancing in your thoughts.

You have devoured the pages,

lost in their magic.

Your imagination 

filled with colors,

a kaleidoscope of life,

your wisdom beyond your years.

My eyes delight in 

your walk,

tall and limber,

no longer a boy 

but a young man.

Your voice nourishes 

my soul,

your laughter is the soundtrack 

of my days.

I celebrate today,

your birthday.

I celebrate every giggle and sound

every day

with love

and gratitude

and wonder.

 

 

 

 

Happy 14th Birthday my sweet son. We are so proud of you!

More Questions

Sting rays swim by

piercing my imagination

with childlike wonder.

My feet dangling,

swinging, 

a bell rings in the distance.

Life is here and now,

the moment does not elude me.

I smile,

ordinary day,

elevated by their presence.

A net of wonder in the waves,

a leaf trembles and falls into the water,

serene it floats.

The human spirit reveals itself,

I drink the beauty of it,

for a moment I am,

my mind is still,

I am the stingray,

I am the ocean.

What is the soul they question,

what is life?

what is death?

A revolving door

from the past to the present,

a circle

of birth and death.

Questions reveal themselves to me,

I dream of glorious colorful fish

in every shape and size,

oh how we praise their beauty

and their heart during the battle,

worthy opponents.

Where do we go once

we have left this earth,

filled with joy and struggle.

I wish my spirit dances in the trees

and in your eyes.

I wish my spirit warms

your soul when you are in need.

I wish my spirit is a whisper

on your lips,

a smile on your face,

a joy deep within.

Where do our souls dwell,

no one knows.

The photo above is of dolphins in the wild.

The sigh of the roots

 My beloved,

plant me an orange tree

it's nectar sweet on my lips.

Follow me to the orange grove

barefoot and free.

In the orange grove

grandma's spirit lives,

in the sigh of the trees,

in the wondrous soil.

That is where she held

people's hands

and people's lives

and inspired them to love her

the way she was meant to be loved.

My beloved,

Husband,

tender heart

know that these are my roots

that I have walked this far

and I have learned lessons of life

in the charred limbs of a tree,

in the puzzle patches of the bark,

in the eyes of the Cooper's Hawk

greeting me with love.

Plant me an orange tree

and forever I will

be grateful.

Whisper

The melancholy

will fade like a whisper,

like drops melting 

on the skin with a sigh,

like a leaf floating in free fall.

A thousand mornings

I awakened in your arms

to the sound of your heartbeat.

The melancholy will no longer

demand my days

or attention.

Melancholy tinged with

yesterdays scents

of home.

The kitchen where love is made

by loving hands.

Days taken for granted,

a leap in the darkness,

freedom and solitude,

shackles of the mind.

What Remains

What remains is
the vast blue sky,
words in tattered notebooks
love softly engraved on the skin
where it was born
cultivated
and freed.
What remains of my life is
the love I gave 

with outstretched
arms
with my heart blooming

 to make yours rise.
What remains is laughter

 carried by the wind
feathers floating in the park.
What remains are the
moon and the stars
as the days go forward
and life goes on.

A New Day

Your petal hangs

 lifeless,
fragile
waiting for me to breathe into you.

The wilderness has been trying
you wrestled with the choices
and your faith.

Awaken your desire to stand ,
to exhale
to watch the crossroads
as a challenge,
as a new day.

Watch the geese glide over
the lake
and dream that you are whole

 once again.

Grace

I drink from the silver 

Amethyst chalice

seeking communion.

The roof shelters me

while I wonder if

 the cobwebs on my soul

are seen from the heavens.

I walk along the shadows,

silence is a death sentence.

Life lingers on my lips

awakened by the sounds

and colors of poetry,

shaking my senses,

leading me home.

Grace floats unannounced,

it walks lacing her

arm into mine.

Grace never tarnished,

stands alone

on wings of hope,

failure is a lesson.

Surrender

Wash my feet

sweet ocean

to you I surrender.

Your lips soothing

like a lullaby

whispered to an infant.

Angels sing 

and poets dream.

I am awakened 

by this moment

ordinary

yet extraordinary. 

My feet anchored in the sand

seashells leave a mysterious trail.

Life is here,

connected to all that came before us

and all that remains.

I inhale,

I exhale,

I surrender. 

At  http://dversepoets.com/ Marina is asking us to write an ordinary thing in our life that would be easy to take for granted. Sometimes when I am out in the ocean I realize the grandeur of it all and how easy it is sometimes to forget to celebrate it.

Farewell

The ocean holds our dreams,

waves have washed over us

while we trolled the great ocean

as it unfolded and lay in front

of us in it's glory.

These waves tender

and fierce

told our stories to the sun,

the moon

and the vast sky.

We were one with the currents

and the tides.

We watched birds working

our guides to clues.

Our reels sang

as we fished,

your laughter

genuine and loud,

while joy flowed in our veins.

Images of yesterday stir my soul,

tears falling

for a friend that was a brother 

to me.

While the fishing rods sway

to the rhythm

of the universe

our friendship 

lasted to the sunset of our life.

This poem is about my father in law and his dear friend Captain James Farrell . They were friends for more than forty five years. Captain Farrell was a role model to my husband. He was loved by so many. I wrote this http://asunkissedlife-ayala.blogspot.com/2010/12/captain-j.html in 2010. He passed away almost three weeks ago and this coming week his life will be celebrated.

Ralph

The owl watches me

from his burrow,
"good morning"

 I whisper

 as not to arouse
suspicion of my sanity to
others.

His eyebrows 

   prominent white

his eyes shine.

He is shaded by
a great old tree
with giant roots and
a giant heart
the kind old trees possess .
The red flowers shed

 on the ground
are like a carpet as I walk past .
The owl watches me
and others that
go past him without a second
glance.
I think about an old friend
his hair was grey
and his enthusiasm unmatched
by any young folks.
He was awarded
a purple heart and

the Bronze Star 

with three oak leaf clusters for valor 

 in world war II
He cracked  jokes and he
delighted when I smiled.
He offered help
when he saw me drowning
and wept with me when his mother
died in her late nineties.

He lived and died

on his own terms,

courageous and full of spirit.

When I heard the news

I cried

a wound bruised

inside me.
I think of him often,

 he was one of those
souls that are rare

 and kind

gentle and giant.

His soul saw mine
like the great tree in this park
with a huge heart
like this owl that
watches me

like he can see 

  my soul. 

Connections,

encounters,

spirits entwined as one

for a moment

for a day

forever.

Darkness

Dread and beauty

pour from my veins,

gratitude and surrender.

Life is fragile

like threads come undone.

I raise my glass to celebrate 

yet I feel despair at

how broken we are,

on this bridge from the past

to this moment.

Seekers praise though

they have silent doubts 

they have not tasted the rain

or the blood on the streets.

A high school cheerleader

chasing the dragon

overdosed in the back of 

a gas station, 

parked behind the trash cans

and recycled bins

and roaches crawling

to their freedom.

Those that believe

 to be proper claim to

know what it's like

to be a mother or father 

of lost souls,

they will correct your grammer,

look you in the eye

and pretend 

that they understand 

all because they were in Woodstock

and shared a bong with 

a rock star.

Dread and beauty 

pour from my veins

sadness evokes the thunder

in my heart.

At http://dversepoets.com/ we are writing about light and darkness.

Sanity

I walk through the trees

observing light and shadow.

I feel the inspiration stir,

awaken,

I take a breath watching

a butterfly follow me.

I breathe words these days,

but they are silenced

by my questioning heart

asking does it matter?

Do I matter?

The saturated fear 

that it does not

leave me empty like 

a husk I see on the ground.

I question my sanity,

my worth,

I disrobe of the accolades 

and strip bare

what matters?

It's all been said

and done

light and shadow dual,

struggle,

my soul had been cracked

open before.

I claw out of the darkness

to see the sun.

I kneel by the ocean

and question the smallness of it all

in this vast world.

I am small,

humbled,

a whisper,

I am nothing.

Mama

I am floating on a cloud

searching for you,

the memory lifts me higher

close to the heavens 

where I seek to find you. 

I am floating on a cloud

my hair is wild 

my heart is light

I am searching for you.

I wish to cast my eyes upon you

and feel your heartbeat.

I walked in the park today,

I felt you walk beside me.

I wept hiding under my shades

the fog was rising 

my eyes stinging from my weeping.

I saw you in your colorful

butterfly robe,

the one you wore.

You kissed me

after you scolded me.

I wanted to wash your hair and body

and you battled me.

After the water played with

your hair and

I washed your face

you were at peace.

The struggle ceased

and you remembered 

once again

that I am your girl

the one you held,

the one you loved.

I am floating in my dream

on a cloud searching

for the peace we had

after the storm was gone. 

8/26/14 is five years since my mom passed. I have missed her every single day, my heart pierced in pain. 

Nothing

I am the whisper on 

your lips.

I am the silence

accepting communion.

I am a weed in 

the rose garden.

I am a husk in

the green field.

I am driftwood

washed to shore.

I am a grain

of sand.

I am a whitecap 

in the breaking waves 

of the ocean. 

I am the morning dew

on the maple leaf.

I am nothing

 without you.

The Hunger

The secrets of the sea

contained in a shell,

the wind whispers yours

and mine.

The hunger alive,

words in the grains of the earth.

I seek

watching the birds diving,

fishing for iridescent fish,

they know the secrets of the world.

You cast with anticipation,

bright eyes,

the eternal boy that knows

his way to the lighthouse 

in the stormy sea.

The waves fierce and tender

unknown mysteries that will

never reveal themselves.

Yet, 

I am the seeker,

the wanderer, 

the poet,

the mother,

wondering,

questioning,

always hungry for more.

Our wonderful community at http://dversepoets.com/ is celebrating a three year anniversary. So grateful for all the poets that have become friends and supporters on this poetic quest. 

Tree of blood

Sadness evokes memories,
morning dew on leaves forsaken.

Light penetrating,
piercing the morning

with a new promise

.A moment held through time
threads of our tapestry
that were unraveled

 and forgotten.

Where have we gone wrong,
lost our keen,
and our desire to know our blood.
Am I the only one to celebrate
the roots of our tree
that had spread
to different lands
planting seeds
and building new worlds
only to forget the ones
that spilled their blood
their desire for us to live and escape
hate and oppression. 

The threads frayed,

the threads in desperate 

need of repair.

I am the one consumed

with the tales,

the history,

the need to remember.

My heart 

like bruised grapes,

beating in anticipation.

I am the weed left behind,

resilient,

seeking the light. 

This poem is about finding new family that I didn't know existed until this week. 

Through the fog

The wind carried the sound

 of my weeping,

scattered dandelions floating

away.

My grief broke me open,

brought me to my knees.

My thoughts,

 waves of despair

and sorrow.

I was told that I should numb 

my pain with pills,

with wine,

with life.

I refused

I soaked it in,

I drowned.

 The grief 

let my heart bleed,

the blade deep and sharp.

 My thoughts consumed me,

I surrendered

 to my anguish. 

Every morning the sun rose

and I learned to walk through 

the sorrow unhinged,

undone.

I slept on a bed of thorns,

the darkness draping me.

I walked the path,

on shattered glass.

Moments, 

hours,

days,

months.

One day the sun rose,

my burden felt lighter.

I chose to rise from the ashes

and find glory in the morning light,

in the love in my life,

in remembering that you

would want me to live and

breathe again. 

I chose to live

among the glory that 

is in a new day,

the only day that's promised.

Marina at dVerse is having us write about the things that make our world shatter, what it needs and what we do to make it whole again. I wrote about losing my parents.

Here

The city vibrant,

 loud and familiar.

The moon watches over us

knowingly lighting our way.

A homeless man,

laying on the ground

holding a cup

while he recites poetry

about a yellow canoe.

Schizophrenic or prehaps

he is saner than all of us.

His voice loud and clear

yet gentle.

I am filled with emotion,

tears well up

 of old wounds

I have forgotten.

At the museum

we explore the beauty,

 a little boy

weeps

while he hangs on his mother's arm

as if he was drowing 

and she is his life preserver.

My thoughts drift

 to sleepless nights,

restless days.

I look away and

fight the tears

because I love you more

than you can ever understand.

Our time brief,

this is where I want to be

in this beautiful city that

you call home. 

You work from ten to seven

all night

caring for humanity

while the moon crawls to greet me

through the window.

I sleep and dream 

of my wide eyed boy

tending to those never cared for

uprooted and lost.

The past is calling

but I choose today

I choose this moment

bittersweet yet glorious.

At dVerse Abhra has us writing about places around the world where we want to be, for me it was Boston for a brief visit with my son and my future daughter in law. I am sharing a link to my interview with the lovely Laurie Kolp at dVerse yesterday. http://dversepoets.com/2014/06/16/pretzels-bullfights-spotlights-ayala-zarfjian/

The Apple Tree

 

Dad wrote mom poems

that he read to her.

 I listened

while they thought that 

I was sleeping.

His voice filled with passion

and love.

 Dad wrote me stories

about a horse with a broken leg.

It was published

 in the newspaper.

Life was art to him,

and art was life.

I watched him mesmerized at

how he was bigger than life

    and how an entire room

would be captivated by 

his conversation.

Mom said that the apple

does not fall far from the tree

and that I was like him.

I wanted to write poetry like

him

and love like him

his flame burning.

His thirst of life,

never quenched,

his hunger

never satiated. 

 He never followed anyone

he always followed his instinct.

His seeds of wisdom

ingrained in my being.

His life was filled with sadness

and despair during the war.

The obstacles never defined him,

he rose and overcame

to build a life that was well lived.

Mom said that I was strong as steel

when I went through my journey.

I told her that 

I was not strong as steel,

the strength was born out of necessity. 

My bloodlines rich with struggle

and endurance.

I think of them

and honor the place that

I come from,

and the apple tree I fell out of.

This is written for dVerse where the lovely Grace is having us write about our ancestors.

An Olive Branch

The canopy of trees 

layered,

the leaves sway to an 

invisible symphony

dancing,

wearing crowns

like the layers of my heart.

In my green peridot field,

in the orange grove

I planted seeds of hope,

seeds for peace.

I found the walls and distance

between us

all the reasons why we are

the same instead of different.

I planted seeds with my bare soul,

the words that sprouted were hopeful

like an olive branch offering.

You half smiled and half mocked

my hopeful dream. 

Verse sprinkled with

wonder and destruction.

Layers of life risen from the trenches 

soaring to enlightenment.

The leaves are dancing

in the breeze,

like words of truth that I stuffed

into my soul.

Bleeding unto the page,

soaking my bones,

like the water soaking 

the seeds I left behind to 

saturate and grow.

Words that liberate,

words of peace.

Peace may seem like a foreign concept for many of us. The peace within, the peace in the world. Peace is ambitious and necessary yet it seems like a dream that we can't reach. I still wish for Peace.

Awaken

The hunger weeps in the night
what will you do to wake up your soul
what you will do to awaken mine.
Desire filled nights
our hearts racing
as we wait for dawn's light.
I washed my soul in the ocean
while tears fell tenderly.
Your fingers ran down my spine
and left a print on my skin .

Your arms a homecoming

sun kissed days

that ached in sweet surrender.

You are the dew on the morning grass

You are the sound of the rustling leaves

You are the wine in my empty glass

What will you do to wake up your soul

What will you do to awaken mine

Dreamer

The grass glistens

like gems under the light.

I am a dreamer lost in these

moments of wonder.

I listen to the melody,

his image on my gray shirt.

He was a dreamer,

I'm not the only one.

He dreamt of peace

when I was in the bomb shelter

listening to air raid sirens.

A ladybug crawled on

my arm in the darkness.

I was not consumed by fear

but I was filled with hope.

If he lived today

would he be disillusioned

that there is no peace,

that barriers exist,

that we are connected

and disconnected.

These days,

this life,

the change,

all the questions that remain.

We dance through  the questions

we walk side by side with our shadows.

Once in awhile

 we see a glimpse of our better self

seeking

reaching

evolving

making the world a better place

than we have found it.

I am a dreamer 

but I am not the only one.

 

 

 

Mary has us writing in quotes,some of my favorite quotes come from John Lennon's Imagine. 

He was a dreamer and I join him in dreaming.