Hail and farewell.

The one resolution i swore to keep was the 2012 Wordpress 365 blog challenge - 366 as it was leap year - and with this post I've accomplished it.

-- the finish line reached
resolution accomplished
penned one post a day

---
I pull once again an old poem from my archives which speaks to me now, as it did when I wrote it so many years ago.

Old Year, New Year.

Old and gray – tired and worn
many died – more were born
much was said – so little done
with the rising and setting of each sun.

Farewell to thee with tears we say
and greet the new with laughter gay

So much could, should, would have done
but alas, I’d just begun and the year was gone.

And so, today I make firm resolution
to do much more by this year’s conclusion.

© Perle Champion

Happy New Year Y'all.

New paths beckon

walkabout beckons
restlessness strains at the bit
to take unknown paths

New car named Wolf

wolf sleek and silver
runs rides rules the very wind
he is my new broom

Filling white space

white space taunts my pen
my épée etching each word
slowly on the page

words marching cadence
along pale blue journal lines
and then there was light

Paths

dogma once believed
shed along childhood's roadside
solitary hence

Laughter burns calories

laughter speeds the heart
deepens the breath releases
endorphins burns fat
get a daily dose
so read funny watch funny
damn it all just laugh

Path to dream

my hand hold the stone
I chant the invocations
my transport to dreams

The mall

from the very air
seductive scents surround me
sights and sounds assault

mothers scold children's
high pitched squeals excited for
christmas coming

Passages

frontiers disappear
we're slowly killing nature
one tree at a time

Flying with eagles

flew with the eagles
high above earth's azure skies
my mighty wings pushed

on unseen currents
soar unfettered and free too
soon return to me

In this parallel we dream on

Solstice came and went this shortest day, now longest night, and we are still here.  The dread event deflected by concerted thought of certain minds with certain powers, and the world will never know the truth.

One Mayan Bactun ended and it did not bring the end of time nor life on earth, but for me it is the death of things as they are now.  I’m moving on to uncharted waters in 2013.
 
I’ve prepared this evening’s candles and writ a simple invocation, née petition, née spell, for prophetic dreams of the path that lies ahead for me.

I am one with the uni verse – See me.

Let me slip easily into the stream of time – Hear me.

Let me acknowledge my past, and accept my now – Help me.

Let me see in dream a little of my path ahead – Grant me.

That given time to contemplate, I may make better choices – Guide me.

As I give myself up to the I am and slip into dream. Protect me.

So mote it be.

♪♫•*♪♫•*¨*•♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥¸¸.•*¨*´*。.❄¨¯`*✲。❄*´*

My kind of cookie

everyone ate sweets
I sipped Tia and Java
my kind of cookie

The dinner was cleared away and the desert was served.  I tried, but could not.

I whispered to Marvin, our marvelous waiter and he brought me my desert.  The only real desert for me is not some overly sugared confection, but a crystal glass of amber ambrosia named Tia Maria with a steaming cup of black coffee chaser enhanced by stimulating conversations with an interesting group of people that I am so fortunate to work with.

What paths we walk

to walk chaos path
as necessary as breath
to our existence

disorder reigned in
Thessalian witches rule
the moon order lives

Walking diverse paths

yesterday's magic
oft becomes today's magic
means to meet desire

polytheism's
view that reality's be
many and diverse

selves walk parallel
paths never knowing other
selves on other paths

Can we start again, please

the sky was leaden
as I drove to get the child
a long day ended
a longer night loomed
gravel crunching neath my wheels
tells me I’ve arrived
I hate that gravel
mine every shoe bears its marks
can we start again
please go back to the
begin and rewrite the tale
I hate this one’s end

Year's end draws nigh

each day closes on
the waning year's darkest night
yule logs wait for fire's

flames to light the way
through darkest night to the sun's
return to rule day

where is the edge of madness?

I want to know what madness is,

and where its edges and beginnings are.

what path does a twisted mind travel

that can explain taking pride

in the slaying of innocents

what slight was so great that

it warrants wanton murder

I cannot, nor can most of us, fathom it.  Yet, I must explore my own reaction to the carnage I witness daily through the remorselessly intense media coverage of such events.  What do I feel?  I feel a mad and all-consuming rage.  I cannot talk of the scenes I saw and heard about without moist eyes and a thickening throat. 

Thoughts, like turgid dirty waters, wend their way through my mind.  Drawing and quartering is too good for him.  I’m glad he’s dead;  if he’d lived I’d hope he’d never make it to the  courtroom, that he’d be blown away and rendered so much bloody pulp upon the pavement.  I’m not alone in these thoughts.  I’ve heard them voiced out loud.  I can only nod – I understand.  Our thoughts are so unclean, so unkind, and yet how like our kind - humankind.

There dwells in each of us the potential for murder and mayhem - good and evil.  We daily foray.  We parry and weigh the outcomes.  It is a fine line between love and hate; tolerance and rage; life and death; sanity and insanity.  Even the cloak of christian charity and forgiveness is thin and tattered comfort against the gale that assails this land of ours.  Will we add our venomous breath to that assault?  Will we allow our judgement to falter, or can we maintain the grace to meet out justice?  Can we take a page from gospel, and forgive him for his crime and ourselves for contemplating in kind?

I have no answer, only questions.  I want to know.  Where is the edge of madness, that I might skirts it farthest hem, and gods forbid I venture in.  If I do, where will it end?

There is never a good answer to Why.

Why?  We always ask why.  There is no answer good enough.  There is no reasonable, rational reason for the events of this day.  I wrote this poem long ago for a friend whose infant grandchild died for no good reason.
-------------------------------
emptiness unlike
any i have ever felt
when i doubt the god

to whom once i knelt
tomorrow is forever
coming if indeed

the day dawns at all
the once ideal and noble
thinking slowly fades

and then it does fall
reality is a void
escape all i know

i want to run hide
but where is there to go that
i will not still know

the answer comes but
oh so slow as shock subsides
i finally know

           on is the only way that I can go.

© Perle Champion  1972

Speak truth or die

the gauntlet's thrown down
a dare on the perfect lawn
speak truth or die



Poets are so driven to craft words that speak truth. The structure of haiku demands a certain distillation I find a challenge to my tendency toward verbosity.

Sometimes I'm wildly creative; sometimes I'm only mildly creative. I remind myself that no one hits home runs all the time, but you hit none if you don't show up at the plate. Write on!

Abnormal Lavish Dangle- 3-word Wednesday

no abnormal want
a lavish dangle of gems
no thorned tiara

Changes

unity keeps one’s
place that transition changes
ignoring buffers

Letting go of what I know, and treading unfamiliar territory gives me that nervous stomach. Somehow I feel more alive, when I can feel the fear and do it anyway.

I'm poised on a high precipice ready to take the dive into new terrain in 2013.

Writing to the Rain

Writing and watching the rain just outside my window.  Looking forward to doing this full time early 2013.  Can't wait until every is spent here in my aerie being creative.  Retiring from the day job by March 30.

All kinds of good things happening.  The art is coming along, photography projects shaping up.  But my first love, writing is finally taking shape.  It's a new world out there now that books have gone digital, and self-published is no longer a dirty word. 

A year of posting poetry on my Blog has given me a poetry book.  Years of journaling and getting journal entries published has helped with my journaling e-book.  They both need a bit more polishing before I launch next them next week.  Then there are the 2 novels I wrote during NaNoWriMo.

I would never have gotten this far with out help from the gentleman who created what he calls the Ultimate EBook Creator.

If not for the free trial, I would never have tried it.  I've bought a lot of such things only to be disappointed at how complicated they are, but I bought the whole thing before my 7-day free trial was over.  I only post links of things I like and use.  When I review a book I like, I post its link to Amazon.  Well I like Nitin's software and I'm posting a link here.  Thing is, you can try it for free and say no thanks or, like me, say oh yeah an buy it.  This guy is very service oriented, too.  He has answered every email with complete answers and free tutorials to to other useful tools.


Ultimate EBook Creator

Armchair traveler

walking other worlds
amidst elves chasing dragons
lives lived in bold strokes
purpose driven lives
ever weighed In the balance
until the last page

Golden fall at my feet

I watched falling leaves
that mere words cannot capture
float on unseen winds
a yellow rain of
gold strewn on browning grass now
lay still at my feet

Purr girl helpers

wrapping christmas gifts
my annual ritual
Sabrina once helped

now it's Jazmine's turn
to chase ribbons chew scotch tape
loudly purr critique

Passages

champagne in pewter
bucket of ice with one glass
baccarat crystal
companion of rites
celebrations unions and
darkest night's retreat

Ever wish that you could fly

in the sky she sensed
then saw birds flying by
wondered what it's like
to leave earth to fly
somewhere up above it all
never fear the fall

Falling leaves 5

In the spring,
a little red-gold could be seen
in the earth
and in the stream
when little oak woke from winter’s sleep
and from the stream beneath his feet
he drank deep
and into him
a little red-gold did seep.
Through spring’s rains
and warming sun
the little oak put out his
bright green leaves
and all through summer he did grow
more strong and more tall
but deep inside of each green leaf
a little red-gold
waits for fall.

Falling leaves 4

And then the clouds came
they sent down the rain
and the red-gold leaf and
each leaf friend
grew so wet and soft
that they could bend
and they did blend
until one could not tell
where one did end
and the other begin.
The snow came then
and covered all of them
and one against the other
under the snow cover
the red-gold leaf became one
with each leaf friend
and in the dark
the red-gold leaf pressed
ever closer to the earth
until one could not tell
where leaf did end and earth
begin

Falling leaves 3

But the wind had a need
a need for speed
to shake more branches
spread more seed
no time to play and poke
she never spoke
but laid the red-gold leaf
beneath a young, young oak.
Other leaves were there
to welcome her
in a rustle, they spoke
beneath the little oak
as the wind blew them around and
under and over
and made of them
a very fine cover
so winter’s chill could not creep
too deep
and damage young oak’s roots
and disturb daffodils’ sleep.

Falling leaves 2

And the wind just passing by
did sigh
skirts which
wider blew
and the red-gold leaf flew
just like birds do
and floated like a cloud
soft, not loud
skated on the back of wind
wishing it would never end.