MLP~Mystic Lake Poetry

[Du Lac]

She who shapes the sacred land


Obsidian crystal clasped tightly
cutting deep into the life line
of a tender palm.

Blood flows
birthing sparks and flame
Pele's breath pours into her soul

Orange and yellow flicker
into her jet inner world as
a shadow child of molted lava
pours forth her pain.

Engulfed in the past, her tears slide
from old eyes caught in youth

Beauty lies within the black

Glass concieved
from cooled firey liquid
the soul of a sprite
trapped within.

Hands that carve
with a lusty heart
drumbeats of release
pour from the razor's edge
slicing away the past.

Pele dances within the starlight
of the glass that creates life
born from destruction.

The thunder rumbles in her soul.


( I was sitting here thinking about one of the girls I worked with at the treatment center in Utah. She was an unique soul and I worked hard to create a bond with her. She was a cutter. This disease is highly addictive and rarely noticed as an addiction. Just for a wee bit of history: Pele known, as “She who shapes the sacred land” is a Hawaiian Goddess who is both loved and feared. Pele, the goddess of fire, lightening, dance, volcanoes and violence embodies both the maiden and crone of the Triple Goddess. She is the embodiment of the Wild Woman who lives within each female soul. Pele is the lastest Goddess I embodied in my Celestial Diva Jewelry series. (I make amulets and talismans fancy words for jewelry.) Her energy brought Holly to mind. I pray for Holly to this day as she battles the thunder that rumbles within her soul.)

 

[RhymeFairy]

She who shapes the sacred land


Obsidian crystal clasped tightly
cutting deep into the life line
of a tender palm.

Blood flows
birthing sparks and flame
Pele's breath pours into her soul

Orange and yellow flicker
into her jet inner world as
a shadow child of molted lava
pours forth her pain.

Engulfed in the past, her tears slide
from old eyes caught in youth

Beauty lies within the black

Glass concieved
from cooled firey liquid
the soul of a sprite
trapped within.

Hands that carve
with a lusty heart
drumbeats of release
pour from the razor's edge
slicing away the past.

Pele dances within the starlight
of the glass that creates life
born from destruction.

The thunder rumbles in her soul.


( I was sitting here thinking about one of the girls I worked with at the treatment center in Utah. She was an unique soul and I worked hard to create a bond with her. She was a cutter. This disease is highly addictive and rarely noticed as an addiction. Just for a wee bit of history: Pele known, as “She who shapes the sacred land” is a Hawaiian Goddess who is both loved and feared. Pele, the goddess of fire, lightening, dance, volcanoes and violence embodies both the maiden and crone of the Triple Goddess. She is the embodiment of the Wild Woman who lives within each female soul. Pele is the lastest Goddess I embodied in my Celestial Diva Jewelry series. (I make amulets and talismans fancy words for jewelry.) Her energy brought Holly to mind. I pray for Holly to this day as she battles the thunder that rumbles within her soul.)

I have to put a spot light on this poem !!!

A very deep poem that penetrates the hardest heart. I read it on Free Thoughts then went along my merry way. I thought about it, over then over again. Du, you sure have a way with not only words but your imagery is spot on. Thank You for sharing .... missed you around these parts ~

 

[Du Lac]

Gray is the color of the day. There is a heaviness that is floundering around in the air today. It makes one feel the unease of the earth as if she is preparing for some fantastic drama to unfold. It is like that tiny moment between a minuet and the heated rondo of a symphony. One can not breath in that moment waiting for the crash of the cymbals or the longing of a violin to erupt within their head. The gray skies of California today remind of that heavy moment and I await the storm front that will roll in off the waves of the Pacific coast.

My body feels as if it is being pushed into the soil, like I am not allowed to soar today. I see no hawks or vultures flying over head, it seems like the birds are grounded for the day. Silence rolls off the newly cut grass, interrupted by the laughter of would be gangsters that walk by my door. Ignorant of the power that hovers over their head, they are lost within their own tiny world of false authority they believe lies in their presence.

Bird song floats over their annoying voices that fade with their steps. The same notes over and over, calling for a mate, or just a friend to share the gray with. Do you ever wonder what goes on in a bird's head? If they critque each others colors, songs or flight patterns? Maybe they are just happy to be alive and don't think much about anything else besides their own basic needs. Do birds see in color? I hope so. It would be sad to always live within the gray, missing out on the joy of red that catches one's heart on fire or the intensity of brown and the comfort that it can bring on cool day.

Days like this make me think. I fight flirting with the past, and really do not want to know the future. I just want to sit in the now, but it is so short, because one now becomes the past so fast that in a breath you begin again with another now. It is an infinite headache if you allow yourself to think about it. Maybe that is the key. Don't think. Thinking is overrated during the gray days. It only opens doors to dusty closets of forgotten pain. I think I will listen to the birds and stop thinking. Wow that hurt. 30 minutes of an empty head, and my hands began to hurt. Think... think... time to be a bird and see if I can see in colors.

 

[bluerains]

a wisdom

to strive for..ty for the reminder... hope you are doing ok...blue

Gray is the color of the day. There is a heaviness that is floundering around in the air today. It makes one feel the unease of the earth as if she is preparing for some fantastic drama to unfold. It is like that tiny moment between a minuet and the heated rondo of a symphony. One can not breath in that moment waiting for the crash of the cymbals or the longing of a violin to erupt within their head. The gray skies of California today remind of that heavy moment and I await the storm front that will roll in off the waves of the Pacific coast.

My body feels as if it is being pushed into the soil, like I am not allowed to soar today. I see no hawks or vultures flying over head, it seems like the birds are grounded for the day. Silence rolls off the newly cut grass, interrupted by the laughter of would be gangsters that walk by my door. Ignorant of the power that hovers over their head, they are lost within their own tiny world of false authority they believe lies in their presence.

Bird song floats over their annoying voices that fade with their steps. The same notes over and over, calling for a mate, or just a friend to share the gray with. Do you ever wonder what goes on in a bird's head? If they critque each others colors, songs or flight patterns? Maybe they are just happy to be alive and don't think much about anything else besides their own basic needs. Do birds see in color? I hope so. It would be sad to always live within the gray, missing out on the joy of red that catches one's heart on fire or the intensity of brown and the comfort that it can bring on cool day.

Days like this make me think. I fight flirting with the past, and really do not want to know the future. I just want to sit in the now, but it is so short, because one now becomes the past so fast that in a breath you begin again with another now. It is an infinite headache if you allow yourself to think about it. Maybe that is the key. Don't think. Thinking is overrated during the gray days. It only opens doors to dusty closets of forgotten pain. I think I will listen to the birds and stop thinking. Wow that hurt. 30 minutes of an empty head, and my hands began to hurt. Think... think... time to be a bird and see if I can see in colors.

 

[My Erotic Trail]

Gray is the color of the day. There is a heaviness that is floundering around in the air today. It makes one feel the unease of the earth as if she is preparing for some fantastic drama to unfold. It is like that tiny moment between a minuet and the heated rondo of a symphony. One can not breath in that moment waiting for the crash of the cymbals or the longing of a violin to erupt within their head. The gray skies of California today remind of that heavy moment and I await the storm front that will roll in off the waves of the Pacific coast.

My body feels as if it is being pushed into the soil, like I am not allowed to soar today. I see no hawks or vultures flying over head, it seems like the birds are grounded for the day. Silence rolls off the newly cut grass, interrupted by the laughter of would be gangsters that walk by my door. Ignorant of the power that hovers over their head, they are lost within their own tiny world of false authority they believe lies in their presence.

Bird song floats over their annoying voices that fade with their steps. The same notes over and over, calling for a mate, or just a friend to share the gray with. Do you ever wonder what goes on in a bird's head? If they critque each others colors, songs or flight patterns? Maybe they are just happy to be alive and don't think much about anything else besides their own basic needs. Do birds see in color? I hope so. It would be sad to always live within the gray, missing out on the joy of red that catches one's heart on fire or the intensity of brown and the comfort that it can bring on cool day.

Days like this make me think. I fight flirting with the past, and really do not want to know the future. I just want to sit in the now, but it is so short, because one now becomes the past so fast that in a breath you begin again with another now. It is an infinite headache if you allow yourself to think about it. Maybe that is the key. Don't think. Thinking is overrated during the gray days. It only opens doors to dusty closets of forgotten pain. I think I will listen to the birds and stop thinking. Wow that hurt. 30 minutes of an empty head, and my hands began to hurt. Think... think... time to be a bird and see if I can see in colors.

oh how I have missed the writes of Du <grin

I watched as the Hawks made their migration north... so many hawks flying one behind the other to their summer nesting grounds. The noise of their calls are loud and it seemed like thousands slowly made their way north.

What I find humorous is that we had June bugs in March, Doodle bugs March in April and May-flies getting ready for June <grin

 

[Du Lac]

I know it is not poetry but I am writing again.....story in the making

It was Monday. The sun had decided to make an appearance on this first day of the workweek. Carol stretched lazily and took a deep breath wondering if her roommate had left the coffee on for her. Janet may have thought that she was going to sleep late this morning. Most likely, she left it on as she always did being a woman that could not break old habits.

Monday was usually Carol’s least favorite morning of the week. It was the start of a travail routine. A habitual life of Monday through Friday, consisting of a 45 minute drives in bumper-to-bumper traffic, swilling coffee, making appointments via her Bluetooth and then a race into her small office complete with synthetic lights and plastic plants. Monday mornings always left her longing for Sunday.

Smiling, she remembered the events of last Friday and the look upon her boss Marty’s face when she told him that she quit. He had stumbled breathlessly down the stairs after her, shouting that she could not quit; it was not allowed then begging with the bribe that he would give her the overdue raise if she only would stay tonight! Carol did not know what happened to her when he told her that they were staying late again last Friday, maybe it was the fact that he never asked her to stay late week after week, he just took it for granted that she would. Maybe it was that she was just damn sick of being told what she would be doing. All she knew was that suddenly something snapped within her, quickly she had gathered her things, turned to him and quietly said, “I quit.” She did not mutter another word as she made her way to her car with him chasing her all the way, turned the key in the engine and took off. She had not felt this free since her divorce.

Looking at her alarm clock, she saw that it was still only 7:22 AM, more than enough time to drive leisurely to her destination. Reaching into her closet, she found the purple silk dress that she wanted to wear. Running her hands over the cool material, she abruptly declared aloud “I am not answering that phone.” Shaking her head, she knew in just a few minutes the ringing would begin just like so many other times. Sure enough as she slipped the wrap dress around her naked body, securing the second of two buttons, the phone began to jingle. Letting the noise continue she headed to the kitchen so that she could get some of that coffee that was calling to her. After six rings, the answering machine picked up. On came the deep, sultry voices of both Janet and Carol announcing how sorry they were that they missed your call. Like two sugary southern belles they continued, “You know what to do at the beep so do it and do it SSSLLLOOOWWW, that’s how we like it!” Laughter finished the message as the mechanical beep sounded loudly, announcing to the caller that it was time to talk.

Taking the first sip of her coffee, she half expected to her the pleading voice of Marty at the other end. He had left a dozen messages ranging from pleading to ranting over the weekend. Waiting she listened to the silence expecting another sad story to blare from the machine. Instead, she heard the voice of Jack, mimicking badly, a southerly accented voice, “Oh my dear Scarlet, I know you are there, so PPLLLEEEAAASEE will you pick up the phone.” Goose bumps rose along her arms and neck listening to his voice. “Okay I gotcha, you need your spirit time” laughing he said, “Janet told me you quit last Friday. Soooooo, when you have the chance call me. I need you; I mean I need to talk to you. You know the number.” She stood there and listened to the click of the machine concluding the message, lost in thoughts of lust and plain old horniness. Damn, she thought, why did she always freeze around him? She could not even pick up the phone when he called. Instead, she was like a schoolchild standing by her locker, listening to his voice and lost its highs and lows, wishing for that voice to be whispered in her ear. It was just silly to get this way over someone she had known all her life!

Jack was Janet’s younger brother. They had all grown up together back East. When Janet and Carol had been 23, they drove out to California in an old VW bug, looking for fresh territory to make their dreams into reality. Carol with an English degree and Janet in accounting pounded the pavement looking for their dream jobs, only to find out that in the San Jose area they were educationally stunted, not having computer programming or engineering as their fortes. In the end, Carol found Paul and Janet was “discovered” by John. Carol always thought the biggest attraction between Janet and John was that fact that his name started with a J.

Janet and Jack came from a family of J’s. Their parents were Jerry and June who loved J names. Hence, their four kids were named Jason, Janet, Jenna and Jack. Marrying John just seemed to fit in the tradition of their family. When Janet divorced John, When Janet divorced John, she swore off all men with their names starting with the letter J and asked Carol if she would move in with her. It just seemed like the natural thing to do. That was the first time Carol had seen Jack since he stood on their hometown street waving good bye to them. Jack had moved out to California somewhere in Carol’s “Whipple Years.” He was small and scrawny teenager on that street waving, things change with the years.

Jack had worked in the construction field after graduating from high school, going to night school to get his business degree. His dedication and insight did him well out west. After working in the field for a few years, his body took over and left a strong tall young man who not only was easy to look at, but also had a mind to boot! He had tired of always taking orders and had made some great contacts with the company he was working for, so when he was offered a superintendent position in the San Jose office he grabbed at the job and moved out with Carol and Janet. After working as a Project Manager for a national construction company, Jack thought it was time to branch out on his own. His contacts were the best in California, along with his reputation as a man who could get the job done safely, within the budget and on time. With Janet’s help, he started up his own small general contractor’s company and was doing very well. In fact, the big bid that Carol had left Marty in the lurch with was for a prestigious project in San Jose that Jack was running. Carol thought to herself, “He just wants to know what is up now with the bid package.” Secretly, she hoped it was more than that.

She did not want to waste anymore time daydreaming and decided to call Jack back later after her adventure. As a celebration of her newfound independence, she had decided to hike her way to the secret pools on Mount Madonna. She knew no one would be there on a Monday in early June so she quickly gathered her bag, fixed her coffee to go and jumped into her ’92 Jeep Wrangler. She found a twisted form of joy build inside of her as she traveled in the opposite direction of the daily commuters. She laughed at their cloned ways of driving, drinking coffee and conducting business on the highway all before 8 AM. She knew she would never return to that life and for at least today, she was free to do anything she wanted.

The drive took her up the winding Route 152 that crossed Mount Madonna via Hecker Pass, which then falls into a rich valley ending at the great Pacific Ocean. There was an enigmatic feeling to the air today, with the mist rising from the edges of the Eucalyptus tree lined roads. Carol felt the mist on her face and the clean aroma of the trees scenting her long brown locks tossed in the wind created by the speed of the Jeep. She drove with the top down as much as she could. People would stare at her strangely when they saw her sitting at a red light with her top down during a rain shower. It was her medicine when depressed, was the wind in her hair and tree breathe wrapping around her melancholy soul. Taking a long draft of her coffee, she spied the turn off to the pools, putting on her signal; she turned a little to fast into the dirt road.

The dust rose and mixed with the mist behind the tires of the Jeep making her think of the ritual she would perform today. She remembered the day she told her ex-husband that she thought the Catholic Church was full of shit! They had been discussing her use of birth control and Paul said she was a sinning against God by taking those pills. This had led into an all out fight and her proclaiming that the Church was nothing but a manipulating power that only wanted to make the people of the world subservient to their needs. She had screamed, “Fuck you and them! No one will tell me what I can do with my own body! I will not bring child into this world to be used by a religion to satisfy its need for power. I don’t want a child by you EVER!” The truth that had been bottled up in her secret soul now was out in the open. It was not that she did not want a child; it was just that she did not want HIS child.

Carol rarely swore, this combined with her claim of not wanting to be his vessel virgin, was more than Paul could take. His eyes had burnt holes through her skin as he ranted a dozen claims about her being a witch, the devil being her lover both in which would result in her burning in hell for eternity. She quickly, replied, “Honey,” the name rolling off her tongue with bitter sarcasm, "I am beyond a witch, a pagan, or anything “religious” you may call it. All I know is that I will not be controlled by any religion or persons. As far as Satan being my lover, that does not speak highly of you, my pew hugging husband. Why would I crave the devil when I have you? I do not need a religion or a husband; I only need to listen to the earth and my heart. That is enough.”

That was the last conversation they had without the company of lawyers. The divorce had been unusually nasty, because Paul had wanted an annulment rather than a divorce, based on her claim of not wanting to bear his children. This ridiculous action had prolonged the separation for years as he wrote to his Bishop and every other higher up official of the Church to back his reasons for the dissolution of his 8-year marriage. Carol called that segment of her life “The Whipple Years.” She did not know where she got the word but it reminded her to look back at that time with some form of amusement.

While the 6 years of separation had been a difficult time for her, Carol had her own little “annulment” take place. She had gained satisfaction witnessing Paul surrender his need for the annulment by signing the divorce papers. For the first time she saw him as he truly was, a man living in fear of not measuring up to his God’s wishes. This small moment allowed Carol to erase all the pain of their married life and see the wisdom she had gained being married to this man. After he signed the papers, she surprised him by coming around the table and kissing him lightly on the cheek. For the last time her eyes locked with his as she thanked him for marrying her. For a moment, she saw the man she first met, sweaty from playing basketball with his friends on the local court, smiling at her as she ran around the track. “Good bye Paul and again, thank you” were her last parting words.

Her memories of Paul ate up the 10-mile drive down the small, pitted dirt road to the pools. Shaking off the past, she jumped out of the Jeep, grabbed her bag of “tools” and softly walked to the pools. These sacred waters had been used for centuries by Native Americans to help cleanse their spirits when seeking guidance from The Creator. Only a handful of people knew about the pools and as a result, the healing energies housed within them were not depleted.

The 10-mile drive had taken her unto private property owned by her old friend Joaquin. She had come to know Joaquin just a few years after her arrival in California. She was soaking in some sun at Moss Landing State Beach when she noticed a surfer riding a wave on the horizon. He made surfing seem effortless, almost floating on the water, joined in spirit and body with the wave. She had spent the rest of the day watching the surfer, enchanted with his skill. When he was done with the surf for the day, he walked right up to her and sat down. The spent the rest of the day talking about, surfing, writers, books, music, the Pacific Ocean vs. the Atlantic Ocean as well as endless other topics. Twenty years her senior, she found Joaquin fascinating both mentally and physically. He became her first California lover, the affair had lasted 3 years, their friendship much longer.

To this day, Carol did not know how Joaquin made his money. It never really mattered to her. She always thought he had inherited the land and his money from his family. They never spoke about it, in the end; Carol cherished his wisdom and guidance more than anything else he could have given to her over the years. Carol thanked him for the use of his sacred land as she stepped out into the circle of Eucalyptus trees surrounding the two pools. She smiled as she heard him say, “Your welcome Caterpillar.” The nickname had stuck through the years, adopted from the old TV show Kung Fu. Carol always felt like Joaquin’s pupil regardless if they were learning about nature and her powers or if he was riding her body like the surf, teaching her the pleasures of the body.

The sun poured through the branches of the trees, giving one the sense of The Creators fingers reaching down to caress your skin. Carol opened her bag and began to set out her “tools.” She withdrew a small green onyx bowl and chalice. Next, she pulled out her Honey Calcite Amulet necklace and a red and green candle. A large bottle of water followed along with a variety of crystals and herbs. Many of her friends thought she was Wiccan. She used many of the same tools as the Craft, but the secrets that Joaquin had taught her over the years were older than those of Wicca. They came from a time that was long forgotten, older than the myths of Atlantis or Lemuria. Even Joaquin did not know where his teachings had originated. To him it did not matter, nor did it matter that what he taught did not have a name. What did matter is if you had a soul that would answer the call. Carol’s soul had answered.

Her paraphernalia properly lay out; she stood up and walked to the first pool, a natural hot water spring of only 2 feet in depth. The temperature was a beautiful 112 degrees all year round. The stones forming the bed of the pool had created a natural couch in which to lie. Once in the pool in a reclining position the hot water would run down your shoulders, descending the breast, gently tickling the nipples finally creating a current that ran in a whirlpool that circled a woman’s clitoris. A warm frenzied circle of water would bring a woman to climax within minutes of lying in the pool. Nature’s vibrator, Carol laughed. It was important to her ritual that she be cleansed first. Her immersion in the whirlpool hot spring not only cleansed the body of all negative energies, but the orgasm opened the divine female within Carol so that she may commune with the Goddess and receive the guidance she would be asking for.

to be continued.....

 

[Du Lac]

Seasick and dizzy
I laugh through the tears of pain
cradling all our experiences
with a loving heart

My heart smiles
during the trials of our travels
you pull up cod
as I lunge over the side
spilling my shame
into the Pacific

Times as these will fill my dreams
three words for the weekend
seasick
love
you...


I know this sucks lol.. but I had to write something!

 

[Du Lac]

Hi All

Unfortunately I have been working a ton of overtime even on Saturdays so I have not had time to write and let all know how I am. Morgan works on Friday nights for the next couple of months, which means he does not get home until 2 or 3 in the morning. Then I have to get up at 4 to go to the office and do work with my boss Geraldine. Last week we were suppose to get out of the office at 10 am. Well it was 3:30 in the afternoon and we had been there since 5:30 am! Tomorrow will not be as bad I meet her at 5 am and we drive into work about 30 minutes. I work in a town outside of San Jose called Milpitas. Saturday traffic is not so bad and Geraldine drives since my Jeep is too rough for her lol... my checks are a good sum that is always good.

Morgan and I are doing great and we do like living here. So does Barney. Right now it is hot around 100 the last couple of days. It amazes me that just 45 minutes away at the coast it is in the 60's and it is 100 here! There is a lot to do here. For Memorial Day we decided that we were going deep sea fishing from the Monterey Bay. We had to get up at 4 something in the morning and drove the hour to Monterey. We paid for the boat and got our beat up rods and fishing licenses. We both were excited to be out on the ocean pulling in cod fish over and over as the sea breeze kissed our faces.

I had coffee in hand of course and we packed a cooler since we knew we were going to be out there for 5 or more hours. It was chilly and there was a deep thick fog floating all around us calling for us to go find the fish. We were some of the first to hit the boat so we claimed our territory met a few of the other "regulars" on the Monterey Star (the boats name) and chattered away sipping coffee waiting for everyone to get on board. I was singing the theme to Gilligan's Island as we set up our poles, laughing with excitement about our great adventure on the Pacific.

Morgan warned me to hit the head before we took off but I did not have to go so I just sipped away at the coffee wondering when we were going to take off. Slowly the boat filled up, old men weathered by years of the salt air climbed over the edge of the boat followed by fathers with excited boys and 20 somethings that heard the call of adventure right behind. Finally we took off with the cold salt air in our face and eyes on the horizon to make sure we did not get sea sick.

The boat hit a good speed as we raced over the wave tops, as I stood up making people laugh, as I pretended to be one of the crab fishermen fighting the waves from the show The Deadliest Catch. Morgan had gotten our lines ready and I watched the ends of the well used poles bob with the waves. The coastline passed us by, as we spied sandy beaches turn into craggy cliff sides that soared into the forest covered mountains of Big Sur. It was cold with the wind in our face but worth the chill to see the coastline from this point.

Suddenly, I had to go to the bathroom, Morgan shook his head as I made my way to the cabin and stood in line for the loo. I had to stand inside the cabin for 5 minutes with the stench of the loo seeping beneath the door. I leaned against the wall and felt the flood of illness come to the top of my throat. I told myself that this was not going to happen and took a deep breath of the dirty air as I tumbled into the small stinking toilet stall. Sitting on the nasty little throne, I realized that my coffee was going to come up and I could not reach the little sink while the other end sprayed the natural body liquids from my backside. I shook my head and gritted my teeth as I said YOU ARE NOT SICK, finishing up and throwing my body out of the toilet just as the boat surged over a good size wave.

I returned to Morgan who saw the green gills and started to laugh, while giving me a worried look. I stared hard at the land focusing on the coastline for the next hour as the boat surged up and down the Pacific body. A small girl suddenly ran out of the cabin and started to hurl her breakfast over the edge just a few feet from me. I thought that was it, but I focused hard on the land and prayed for the little one. It was a long ride in the fog and suddenly the Captain said he found the fish!!

All I could think of was Yay! When we stop I will be all right! I grabbed onto my pole with excitement, praying for the big fish and a calm stomach. There was around 60 people on the boat and you could feel the excitement running through everyone because we were guaranteed to catch some fish.

The boat slowed and we all stood, looking around I could see that I was not the only one who felt green around the gills. Stopping around 50 miles out to sea, the Captain said "GO Fish!" and we all threw our lines down into the green blue waters.

I stood at the side without my pole looking desperately for land, it seems that my stomach did not want to stop with the boat and I knew it was only time for me to start tossing my cookies to the sharks. I closed my eyes and sat down breathing and talking to myself. Just then this oriental young woman who I had been watching earlier as she stood in the sea winds like the starlet of Titanic, ran in front of me and started to pour her guts into the waters. That was all I could take as I joined her side by side we blew our chow into the great blue sea.

As we tossed our shame into the wind, I realized that we had a bond in that moment, that soon many others would be sharing. After we were done, we laughed and felt better for a little while. Morgan was pulling up fish left and right. The older salty dog next to me was very blessed with some huge orange cods that stared up at me from the ship's deck mimicking me gulping the air.

I caught two fish with my first reel down, pulling them up I felt the waves take over again and I looked desperately at Morgan. Reading my mind he grabbed my pole as I once again began to pray to Neptune. This became the story of my fishing experience.

I retched so hard for the next two hours that the world spun and I began to faint. As the dry heaves took, over my ass decided that I was going to become a musical instrument and the farting accompanied the retching. I was right next to strangers and I did not care. All I wanted to do was live through this fishing drama!! My retching got louder along with my farts and suddenly I looked up and saw that at least 40 of the 60 people on board were all throwing up with me. I of course had to be the loudest. Finally, I could breathe. I looked at everyone as said "Can you believe we paid to PUKE!" My little oriental friend said "Yeah we paid a ton of money to do this." I started to puke again and laughed.

We continued this way for the next two hours. I did get to pull in two more fish, but Morgan just amazed me. He pulled in fish after fish, threw them down on the deck, leaned over blew his guts into the ocean and tossed the line back in to catch some more.

Somewhere between almost fainting the third or fourth time after we stopped three times to fish, I began to laugh hysterically. I was past any reason. By the time the Captain said we were going back in, everyone one board had prayed to the Gods of the Sea and I was weak and could not move.

I floated to another land, and began to meditate and circle breathe. I did not realize that while I was breathing and my chanting was more like a whine that repeated itself over and over. Isolating myself from the others on board, I had lost all caring how I was viewed. I whimpered to God and moaned into the wind.

This worked for a little while, but then the fish began to laugh at me as I threw myself to the railing and gave up. Surrender had come! I hung over the side with the waves splashing at me and my ass singing away with the rhythm of my dry heaves. I opened my eyes and saw a dorsal fin in the distance. My big chance to see a whale and I was floating in and out of consciousness!

We finally got back to land and I kissed the ground as we all laughed grateful to be alive. I stood on the ground and my legs went under me and now I was land sick!!! Morgan could not help but laugh because I of course made it into a dramatic experience. It felt as if the cooler weighed a thousand pounds, filled with all the food and drink that we could not even image touching while aboard the Monterey Star.

At the moment we have a freezer full of cod that I can hardly think about eating with out the heaving starting all over again. I watch the Deadliest Catch now and have a new found respect for those men who brave the seas to fill our bellies. Morgan has informed me that my sailor days are done, he will not subject me or himself having to watch my performance, to the Pacific Fishing experience ever again. I did get 4 fish and saw a whale fin. Just as we reached the bay I felt the sun peak out and warm my face. I have a new found respect for those who make their living on the sea. While also feeling extremely grateful for my small cubicle that over looks the hills of Milpitas. They say cod are not the most intelligent fish, I have to say, that they were smarter than me that day. I can still hear their laughter floating from the freezer and I wonder, who really had the last laugh? Fish or foe, I do not know, all I can say is I am happy to be a landlubber!

So that was my fishing experience. Hope you all had a good laugh like we did.

Denise

 

[Du Lac]

Voices that cradle small dams of purity
floundering within the dark wonderland
of the devil's reality

She pondered her life
filled with miracles and demons

Glass dreams cracked around the edges
Intack but floating in the darkness
Her spirit rose into the dawn
and wandered a plane
of lost horizons.

 

[My Erotic Trail]

Voices that cradle small dams of purity
floundering within the dark wonderland
of the devil's reality

She pondered her life
filled with miracles and demons

Glass dreams cracked around the edges
Intack but floating in the darkness
Her spirit rose into the dawn
and wandered a plane
of lost horizons.

I stand near an hour-
glass, contemplating
life's, timely plan
watching the falling sand

a spec of my life
engrossed in the granuals
elements, shoulder
to shoulder with one another
in this time, slipping forward,
DRAWN TO THE... falling


life began so slowly
un aware of those falling
till it was obvious
generations lay piled
where I will go...

 

[RhymeFairy]

Hi All

Unfortunately I have been working a ton of overtime even on Saturdays so I have not had time to write and let all know how I am. Morgan works on Friday nights for the next couple of months, which means he does not get home until 2 or 3 in the morning. Then I have to get up at 4 to go to the office and do work with my boss Geraldine. Last week we were suppose to get out of the office at 10 am. Well it was 3:30 in the afternoon and we had been there since 5:30 am! Tomorrow will not be as bad I meet her at 5 am and we drive into work about 30 minutes. I work in a town outside of San Jose called Milpitas. Saturday traffic is not so bad and Geraldine drives since my Jeep is too rough for her lol... my checks are a good sum that is always good.

Morgan and I are doing great and we do like living here. So does Barney. Right now it is hot around 100 the last couple of days. It amazes me that just 45 minutes away at the coast it is in the 60's and it is 100 here! There is a lot to do here. For Memorial Day we decided that we were going deep sea fishing from the Monterey Bay. We had to get up at 4 something in the morning and drove the hour to Monterey. We paid for the boat and got our beat up rods and fishing licenses. We both were excited to be out on the ocean pulling in cod fish over and over as the sea breeze kissed our faces.

I had coffee in hand of course and we packed a cooler since we knew we were going to be out there for 5 or more hours. It was chilly and there was a deep thick fog floating all around us calling for us to go find the fish. We were some of the first to hit the boat so we claimed our territory met a few of the other "regulars" on the Monterey Star (the boats name) and chattered away sipping coffee waiting for everyone to get on board. I was singing the theme to Gilligan's Island as we set up our poles, laughing with excitement about our great adventure on the Pacific.

Morgan warned me to hit the head before we took off but I did not have to go so I just sipped away at the coffee wondering when we were going to take off. Slowly the boat filled up, old men weathered by years of the salt air climbed over the edge of the boat followed by fathers with excited boys and 20 somethings that heard the call of adventure right behind. Finally we took off with the cold salt air in our face and eyes on the horizon to make sure we did not get sea sick.

The boat hit a good speed as we raced over the wave tops, as I stood up making people laugh, as I pretended to be one of the crab fishermen fighting the waves from the show The Deadliest Catch. Morgan had gotten our lines ready and I watched the ends of the well used poles bob with the waves. The coastline passed us by, as we spied sandy beaches turn into craggy cliff sides that soared into the forest covered mountains of Big Sur. It was cold with the wind in our face but worth the chill to see the coastline from this point.

Suddenly, I had to go to the bathroom, Morgan shook his head as I made my way to the cabin and stood in line for the loo. I had to stand inside the cabin for 5 minutes with the stench of the loo seeping beneath the door. I leaned against the wall and felt the flood of illness come to the top of my throat. I told myself that this was not going to happen and took a deep breath of the dirty air as I tumbled into the small stinking toilet stall. Sitting on the nasty little throne, I realized that my coffee was going to come up and I could not reach the little sink while the other end sprayed the natural body liquids from my backside. I shook my head and gritted my teeth as I said YOU ARE NOT SICK, finishing up and throwing my body out of the toilet just as the boat surged over a good size wave.

I returned to Morgan who saw the green gills and started to laugh, while giving me a worried look. I stared hard at the land focusing on the coastline for the next hour as the boat surged up and down the Pacific body. A small girl suddenly ran out of the cabin and started to hurl her breakfast over the edge just a few feet from me. I thought that was it, but I focused hard on the land and prayed for the little one. It was a long ride in the fog and suddenly the Captain said he found the fish!!

All I could think of was Yay! When we stop I will be all right! I grabbed onto my pole with excitement, praying for the big fish and a calm stomach. There was around 60 people on the boat and you could feel the excitement running through everyone because we were guaranteed to catch some fish.

The boat slowed and we all stood, looking around I could see that I was not the only one who felt green around the gills. Stopping around 50 miles out to sea, the Captain said "GO Fish!" and we all threw our lines down into the green blue waters.

I stood at the side without my pole looking desperately for land, it seems that my stomach did not want to stop with the boat and I knew it was only time for me to start tossing my cookies to the sharks. I closed my eyes and sat down breathing and talking to myself. Just then this oriental young woman who I had been watching earlier as she stood in the sea winds like the starlet of Titanic, ran in front of me and started to pour her guts into the waters. That was all I could take as I joined her side by side we blew our chow into the great blue sea.

As we tossed our shame into the wind, I realized that we had a bond in that moment, that soon many others would be sharing. After we were done, we laughed and felt better for a little while. Morgan was pulling up fish left and right. The older salty dog next to me was very blessed with some huge orange cods that stared up at me from the ship's deck mimicking me gulping the air.

I caught two fish with my first reel down, pulling them up I felt the waves take over again and I looked desperately at Morgan. Reading my mind he grabbed my pole as I once again began to pray to Neptune. This became the story of my fishing experience.

I retched so hard for the next two hours that the world spun and I began to faint. As the dry heaves took, over my ass decided that I was going to become a musical instrument and the farting accompanied the retching. I was right next to strangers and I did not care. All I wanted to do was live through this fishing drama!! My retching got louder along with my farts and suddenly I looked up and saw that at least 40 of the 60 people on board were all throwing up with me. I of course had to be the loudest. Finally, I could breathe. I looked at everyone as said "Can you believe we paid to PUKE!" My little oriental friend said "Yeah we paid a ton of money to do this." I started to puke again and laughed.

We continued this way for the next two hours. I did get to pull in two more fish, but Morgan just amazed me. He pulled in fish after fish, threw them down on the deck, leaned over blew his guts into the ocean and tossed the line back in to catch some more.

Somewhere between almost fainting the third or fourth time after we stopped three times to fish, I began to laugh hysterically. I was past any reason. By the time the Captain said we were going back in, everyone one board had prayed to the Gods of the Sea and I was weak and could not move.

I floated to another land, and began to meditate and circle breathe. I did not realize that while I was breathing and my chanting was more like a whine that repeated itself over and over. Isolating myself from the others on board, I had lost all caring how I was viewed. I whimpered to God and moaned into the wind.

This worked for a little while, but then the fish began to laugh at me as I threw myself to the railing and gave up. Surrender had come! I hung over the side with the waves splashing at me and my ass singing away with the rhythm of my dry heaves. I opened my eyes and saw a dorsal fin in the distance. My big chance to see a whale and I was floating in and out of consciousness!

We finally got back to land and I kissed the ground as we all laughed grateful to be alive. I stood on the ground and my legs went under me and now I was land sick!!! Morgan could not help but laugh because I of course made it into a dramatic experience. It felt as if the cooler weighed a thousand pounds, filled with all the food and drink that we could not even image touching while aboard the Monterey Star.

At the moment we have a freezer full of cod that I can hardly think about eating with out the heaving starting all over again. I watch the Deadliest Catch now and have a new found respect for those men who brave the seas to fill our bellies. Morgan has informed me that my sailor days are done, he will not subject me or himself having to watch my performance, to the Pacific Fishing experience ever again. I did get 4 fish and saw a whale fin. Just as we reached the bay I felt the sun peak out and warm my face. I have a new found respect for those who make their living on the sea. While also feeling extremely grateful for my small cubicle that over looks the hills of Milpitas. They say cod are not the most intelligent fish, I have to say, that they were smarter than me that day. I can still hear their laughter floating from the freezer and I wonder, who really had the last laugh? Fish or foe, I do not know, all I can say is I am happy to be a landlubber!

So that was my fishing experience. Hope you all had a good laugh like we did.

Denise

OMG ... you poor thing !!! ((( Du )))

Thanks for sharing this. I have yet to do anything that sounds " this " exciting, but from the sound of things I am well warned and shall stay put and be more than happy to remain a landlubber.

 

[Du Lac]

From the exercise 1 thread

High in the tower the dirt covered bell
coughs out lonely notes
that snags the souls of morning travelers

The train whistle pours forth
hidden songs locked within the
addendum circle.

Dew covered grass chants
as birds peek beneath
the camouflage of the trees

Peach juice drips from a childs elbow

Miracles dance behind the shadows
lost within the infinity of
apple dawns and blueberry dusks.

Minds boil from the drudgery of office afternoons
as whipped employees shake with desire
craving the bliss of the morning star.

The turtle's tears fill the sea.

Wind baby whispers ancient secrets
encased within the magic
of the sun and moon.

Followers hear the clipped call
sung from the dog's mouth
then turn from their desks with glee.

Life's elixir sliced from a morning moment.

 

[Du Lac]

Hollow
A holy day masked and lost in the
dreams of empty people
who flood the land with
the rot of greed of guttony

Rolling brown hills turning green
circling vultures wait

Godless people shopping like madmen
bigger and better is the way,
an attempt to erase the
cascade of empty promises
made through the year.

Christmas

God is offensive
They turn and looking for the next bargain.
Isn't Santa the same as God?

Lost in the scheme
of California Dreams
work for more
the happier you'll be...

Life is yours for the taking

 

[Du Lac]

Movement flows before sightless eyes
breathe travels trapped in red bubbles
a thought flies
caught by a child's dream

a new life starts in this moment
while death crawls beneath the streets
crying to those who do not seek
her tender touch
that strokes away oblivion.

Lost in the red repelled by blue
caged wings crash against solid bars
breaking free from the torment
to taste freedom
even for a moment.

 

[Unbridled_Passion]

Movement flows before sightless eyes
breathe travels trapped in red bubbles
a thought flies
caught by a child's dream

a new life starts in this moment
while death crawls beneath the streets
crying to those who do not seek
her tender touch
that strokes away oblivion.

Lost in the red repelled by blue
caged wings crash against solid bars
breaking free from the torment
to taste freedom
even for a moment.

when you are divorced
a fleeting moment seems
like a second in time
wondering when the next
strike will come
until one day, you finally
figure out that no matter
what they do, that person
no matter has control
of your life,
and it fells good

 

[Du Lac]

from blues post... busy space

Morning starlight shines overhead
cars zig, zag, rush and brake
coffee chugged and eyes blurred
a finger or two flies
hostility reigns

Elevating the cadence of life
blood screams within the heart
A blockade of the soul's song
Heedless to the danger
of realities illusions

The busy space of a hummingbird moment.
Soft silence of frozen time
Peaceful breathing moves me forward
Extortion of my soul music
in a trice the hummingbird files.

 

[My Erotic Trail]

with winter comes...

the Snow Owl (~_~)

 

[Du Lac]

Flying low into the sun
the day settles into the mist
of the snow owl's dreams

Moments soar into minutes
while hours fade into years
joy and sorrow become one

Reality takes flight
wings flap silently
the snow owl rests...

du dreaming delights!

 

[bluerains]

Flying low into the sun
the day settles into the mist
of the snow owl's dreams

Moments soar into minutes
while hours fade into years
joy and sorrow become one

Reality takes flight
wings flap silently
the snow owl rests...

du dreaming delights!

still steps my flow
deep I am into your time
do you feel my sun

 

[My Erotic Trail]

Snow Owl
sits
in a field of white


unseen
snow brought
a thought

 

[Du Lac]

rivers flow forward into the dawn
of tomorrow's yesterday
milling bees settle into the dusk
while colonies of ants dream
of a warriors path

the snow owl dances
in green fields of clover
chasing the chill off
from a long winter of toil.

Now seems long when
one takes the moment
to breath.

 

[My Erotic Trail]

rivers flow forward into the dawn
of tomorrow's yesterday
milling bees settle into the dusk
while colonies of ants dream
of a warriors path

the snow owl dances
in green fields of clover
chasing the chill off
from a long winter of toil.

Now seems long when
one takes the moment
to breath.

your visits are as rare as...
a snow owl sighting <grinin

always a pleasure (~_~)

 

[Du Lac]

Haiku

leaves dance with the breeze
colored heads turn towards the sun
I am this moment

 

[bluerains]

HeY Du

leaves dance with the breeze
colored heads turn towards the sun
I am this moment

How have you been..,,hope the holiday is holding you well and safe...

 

[Du Lac]

Blue...

hey girl
I am well. I just work ALL THE TIME reading and creating legal contracts for a construction company. Too much to do and not enough me. This work kills my creative side but it is what I need to do for a while as we get out of debt and save for that house in SD. After five years of debt consolidation my last payment is next month. this is wonderful and hopefully I can begin to breath again. I pop on to read but rarely post because I don't hear the poetry in my soul right now. Working to get it back. California does that to you...

How are you? What is happening? Tell all...

blessings
du