I drove by grandma and grandpas place
so many changes hard to trace
a little girl where flowers bloom
eating ice cream by the light of the moon
music played all the seasons
I loved Rudolph for many reasons
love there didn’t need yeast
family gathered for every feast
today the house I cant afford
rich with memory’s golden cord
Responding to the prompt Afford at The House of Bailey
Mourning wail
sun tries to break through fog
seagull echo
*
Old memories
city sounds fog can’t disguise
gold in her eyes
From the Nile banks
to the Golden Gate
friends in huts
to the close of day
Today WP Photo challenge prompt “The Earth”
Gold with little rain
I drive through the veil of yesterday
hoping little has changed
I can’t quite see behind
I see tracings of what lies ahead
the giants in today’s sky
are the least of what I dread
San Francisco and the Northern Bay area (of California) will always be considered home. I dont like seeing the changes that the drought has wrought on the state. I like seeing less the effects the drought is having on nature. Wildlife is driven into the cities in search of food and water. The deer are beautiful (though quite lean); the mountain lions a little less desirable.
The Daily Post Challenge for this week is Change.
Brown are the edges
where so many fingers
over years have creased
the words always warm
Yellow still the Christmas star
that brilliantly shines
in my child’s mind
over silent hill
Golden are the memories
songs long ago sung
visits to the City of Paris
beautiful ornaments they hung
The prompt this week for Word Press Photo Challenge is Yellow.
“Should you care to write (and only the saints know why you should) you need to have knowledge of the art and magic of the music of words, the art of being artless and the magic of loving your readers” ~Gibran
Art opens doors
Without truth we are blind
Stumbling over lies
***
Behold nature
art in its purist form
Truth will set you free
“When you reach the heart of life you shall find beauty in all things, even in the eyes that are blind to beauty” ~Gibran
This prompt from Chevrefeuille’s Carpe Diem is Truth and Gibran’s truth add inspiration.
I stood before the hands of the giant clock. They teased me as they clicked:
“you can go anywhere in your past
choose but choose fast
before the hand has gone one minute
you will either venture
or quit it.”
I was faced with a genie in a bottle decision. Where do I go? What do I revisit? Can I fix “it”?
In that 30 second time span I chose. “Take me to the year 1968 and the place Haight and Ashbury in San Francisco.”
There I was in a paisley maxi dress with my hair braided. It was me but it wasn’t me. I wasn’t the flower child. My mother was. If I could only save her from this moment where she wrecked her life, my life, my family…
“Can you tell me where Saxi is?” I tried to keep from inhaling the air . The secondary smoke would result in a nasty headache or a “high.”
“She just left with Brad.”
Brad was an innocuous name for a destroyer of life. This creep came into the suburbs to captivate young, attractive women.
“Saxi,” I called as I ran along Haight . I followed a couple of very lost in the clouds hippies. Her eyes barely acknowledged me. The spark that said, I love you sweetie-pie was extinguished.
“Please come home, Saxi.” I whsipered.
I had lived this moment so many times in my adult dreams. “Taxi” I whistled with all my might. I shouted this time holding out a Twenty which did the trick. Quickly I grabbed her arm pulling her into the car before she could think in her drugged oblivion.
“Take us to the train station.” I had no desire to have that creep follow us. We were leaving San Francisco and home for good.
****
The hands moved forward more gently as they shadowed Saxi’s wizened face. Her last, dying words “Thank you for rescuing me sweetie-pie.”
***********************************************************************************************************
The Haight Ashbury district in San Francisco was known in the 60s and 70s for it’s free love, free pot, free clinics. Long lines of tourists would motor through the district to see the strung-out hippies. I knew several teens who ran away to Haight. Even though their parents eventually got them “back”, they never came home. The heroin addiction in my baby-sitter rendered her an “on again off again “junkie for the remainder of her life.
This week’s writing prompt for Word Press Daily Post was Time Machine.
The photograph of the street sign is from the San Francisco China Times
Flowers blooming in late November?
San Francisco looks more like spring…
The prompt this week at Word Press Photo challenge is Unexpected.
memories of a child
filtered through the glass of the rainbow
stained and etched color jubilee
standing on a rocking bench
bay wind lashing clothes and hair
no thought that the waves
and you so wee
could make you its bobbing captive
Memories of a child
filtered through the glass of the rainbow
grasping for the end of the stars
dancing to the ringing chimes
of the bell calling out through the fog
ride me to the end of the line
those jaunty cable cars
catch the end of tomorrow
Memories of a child
filtered through the glass of the rainbow
feeding squirrels her task
Golden Gate park their chosen home
It’s It dripping through small fingers 
The Art Deco pavilion a staid lady
musical notes of the past in her grasp
a view of a garden paradise
Memories of a child
filtered through the glass of the rainbow
never letting go
the sounds and smells
of the city she loves best
her heart is left behind
pressed in the pages of a living album
San Francisco
her city – her home
Artwork: Edwin Deakin
Photographer: Thanks to Mark James Miller for allowing public domain access to this work
“Palace of Fine Arts” © L. Moon
Learning to live by the indwelling life of Christ.
Gud skaper noko nytt ved sitt Ord og sin Ande, vi kan ta imot det i tru og få oppleve at han gjer sitt verk med oss. Hans skaparkraft verkar konstuktivt i våre liv og skaper noko som er verdifullt for oss. Naturkreftene verkar nedebrytande, i fylgje entropilova, men Gud er Ånd og det som er født av hans Ande består. Jesu frelsesverk er fullbrakt og fullkome. Han er den siste Adam, som er ifrå himmelen og som for oss har vorte ei livgjevande ånd. Han gjev oss den Heilage Ande frå himmelen av berre nåde. Han gjev oss det evige livet.
Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
Thanks for following a cowgirl on her crazy life journey.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. - Edgar Allan Poe
Hoping to make the world more beautiful
Books by author Diana Coombes
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
my humanity in written form
Experiments in Creative Writing, and more ....
Poetry by Mich
FOR READERS AND ASPIRING WRITERS
Everyday musings ....Life as I see it.......my space, my reflections and thoughts !!
From Board Books to Clean YA
Cherishing the Past while Celebrating the Present
FROM ONE PARENT TO ANOTHER
Living life with dissociative identity disorder and complex ptsd
penned in moon dust 
