Herbs & Things Poetry Page

If I Could Fly

2010-05-07T03:43:00.000-07:00

Would I fly as a
Dove— symbolizing peace,
wings beating like my heart,
or as a Raptor
suspended on broad feathers of flight— silent as thoughts,
looking down, in non-human conformity with eyes of wisdom
and question why

If I could fly, would I see
tears of red, streaming down Her volcanic ashen face
She looking back at me, only as a trouble Mother could
wondering….how

Would tears flow as I observe
Her blue amniotic fluids caressing the shores
She trying to offer solace to Her child
in spite of
Her own pain

Would I soar silent, while
icy whispers slide down crystal
stoic walls,
falling,
moving,
filling crevasses of age

Must I bear witness to
tangled webs, though connected,
stifling the nurturing voice of reason
while tree limbs reaching in desperation
plead—do not take me for I am all that is left

What would I see —if I could fly?
the birth of new
or the death of old
before their time is due

Kellie M Shanley © 2007

Moonrise

2010-04-25T13:41:00.000-07:00

I remember much
I remember nothing
I am trying…
Almost dark
I watch the moon rise
Bigger, bigger, brighter

A light echoes behind the evergreen trees
Telling
I remember once
A moment like this before
When
I remember nothing
Ah….a memory like the moonrise
A glimmer
Bigger, brighter…
shadows like an eclipse

Was it then
Is it now

I remember much
I remember nothing
I remember when
I remember now

© Kellie M Shanley 2009

Regret

2010-02-28T04:00:00.000-08:00

I have none

Yes, but what about the time you cried?
I’ve no regrets for those tears, they helped me grow.

But what about the time you lost your first love
I’ve no regrets, for that loss taught what it is
I do not want.

What about when someone said unkind and untrue things about you?
No regrets, it showed me who my friends are.

What about the time, you thought God had forsaken you.
No regrets, it was then,
I learned he was teaching me to fly.

Kellie M Shanley © 2009

An Etheree Poem...Ever done one...they're fun

2010-02-25T03:58:00.000-08:00

Soul Intentions

Charm
Pleasure
Enchanting
Fascination
In this night of ours
Blushing— warm affection
Radiates within your face
The moons soft light—illuminates
Porcelain cheeks and ruby red lips
Ripe—ready for a kiss of divine love

My lips—pale pink rest upon yours lightly
Finding the soul of my intentions
Basking in desire of love as
I breath in your virgin breathe
Caressing your chin with
This love, more than lust
I stop desire
With purest
Love for
You

KMS © 2009

Beyond The Lens

2010-02-06T14:06:00.000-08:00

click on photo for closeup of what's in the middle of the picture

What do I see beyond the lens
The past
A moment kept forever in time
The still of night
in its midnight blue beauty

What do I see beyond the lens
The story of hell on earth
through a one-dimensional picture
telling a powerful account
captured on still faces

What do I see beyond the lens
A smile cropped with sadness
Wheelchairs guided by angel’s wings
Wingless nocturnals in flight

What do I see beyond the lens
Love
Laughter
Life
Magnificent accomplishments in black and white
Great moments evermore

What do I see beyond the lens
Forever
Birth
Existence
Amusement
Grief
Death
Then and now

What do I see beyond the lens
Everything

Kellie M Shanley © 2009

Dancing With the Flame

2009-12-23T06:16:00.000-08:00

The room is dark as I enter,
Yet I know it is there.
Its fragrance greets my senses.

Tilting my head back, breathing deep
I absorb the welcoming evergreen bouquet.
Holding my breath for a moment I savor the aroma,
Hopeful it will linger.

I reach through the dark for my touch lamp,
Tap once, it softly illuminates the room.
There…alone, a candle, green and stoic, waits peacefully
Resting in a glass votive holder.

Again I pause, bend closer and
Inhale its memory gathering fragrance.
I strike a match. It ignites into a single fast flame,
Then calms and waits patiently as I place it to the wick of the waiting candle.

The candle, at first shy does not want to accept the matches’ offer of life.
Diligent am I, continuing to propose the matches gift of living.
Ultimately, the candle accepts the match’s bequest, advent with its own flame.
The match having done its job, I say thank-you, bid it farewell, and place it softly and somberly in its ceramic urn.

The candle burns with its new life.
Yellow fingers extend from blue arms
Reaching from a body of pooled green energy
And flames sway in time with the quiet music of its existence,
then flit and flaunt in the night striving to reach its particular destination.

Finally it arrives to where it wants to be…The candle ballroom, where
The shadows of its life dance upon the walls,
Flowing, gracefully to the ceiling about my head,
Taking me on a fragment soft journey,
mesmerizing …embracing me like an arbor entrance to a garden…
This garden of holly,
Evergreen,
Christmas memories.
One lone candle in the night, dancing with me.

Kellie M. Shanley © 2007

Outside Your Window

2009-12-16T03:46:00.000-08:00

To my Grandma;
She is sick with cancer but she is strong at heart.
Sometimes when times are hard it’s hard to look
Past your “window,” and see any good.

My grandma and I share the same birthday Feb 16th
Although I have seemed distant, we share the same pain.
We are all praying for her and love her so much!

Outside Your Window

A wonderful display of icicles
Different shapes, sizes and forms
Each seemingly made for your eyes only.

Look farther … you’re distracted
A world of beauty lies just past your window.

Glittering, Glistening as the sun beams down
On a world unknown.

Each snowflake different from the rest
It’s unique, one of a kind, and aids in the beautiful blanket of untouched snow,
Which no foot print or flaw is found.

Snows beauty has no limits nor boundaries.

By: Sarah J Westerdale ©
12/2009

Ode to the Hippocampus

2009-12-10T06:20:00.000-08:00

Suspended

in waters below
floating
Amidst sea grass or coral reefs
Its Home

The smallest
a royal presence, an inch long
Another
twelve inches is a ‘horse’ of a different breed

Though not a chameleon
with colors of
fluorescent and neon preservation
It
hides within mangroves many feet below
A diver’s delight
thirty-three species
of phenomenon to admire

They…
live a monogamous life
not expected in their genre
He bares the young
She’s always there

Equipped with
dorsal and pectorals fins
a bony fish
make us wonder
how can that be
as we watch the
marvelous
mysterious
beautiful
often hard to find
enchanting
endangered
Seahorses of the sea

© Kellie M. Shanley 2009

Hippocampus: Greek word meaning seahorse
Hippocampus also part of the brain named after the seahorse because of its shape.

The Hours of Darkness

2009-11-26T03:48:00.000-08:00

By Rachel Morris

I found the beaten path at the edge of the woods like I have done so many times before.
Lit only by a partially, cloud-covered moon,
I proceeded down the path.
Walking in the woods, in these hours of darkness,
Brings the unknown to life.
Imagination at its best.
Did that shadow move?
Are those leaves rustling at my feet?
Or is it something alive? Snakes? Spiders?
Who do those glowing eyes belong to?
A wolf? A deer? A ghost?
I wonder if I have caught the appeal of another animal.
How would they proceed? Would I even taste good?

Walking in the woods, in these hours of darkness,
The unknown comes to life.
Imagination at its worst.
All I see is black.
All I hear is the wind.
All I want is to be found.
Thoughts I came here to escape, taking over.
I tell myself, "Not here, not tonight!"

Breathing the cool, dark, damp air of night is the only time my lungs feel full,
The heaviness of it fills every nook and cranny.
My heartbeat rises and falls at the sights and sounds around me.
I feel eyes, is there someone watching me from the trees?
Trees seem to move without the breeze.
As if they are stretching their old limbs…slowly.
Do they, as if under some magical spell, come to life at night?
Open their watchful eyes?
Send and receive messages on the wind?
Do creatures emerge from the depths of the earth each night?
The creatures we only dream of and write about,
Those who are afraid to wonder the Earth in daylight?
Werewolves? Dragons? Sasquatch?
Do they maintain the secrecy of their existence, so they can live in peace?
Smart creatures!

Gentle breezes bring with it the unknown.
The wind surrounds and encircles me;
The slight touch of it on my skin leaves goose bumps.
The breeze stirs and then lingers in my hair.
Softly spoken secrets.
The wind whispers messages only the willing ear can hear.
This one intended for me.
My head drops, knowingly, I have heard this before. Darn!
"Go home, you silly girl, this is not the time or place for you!"
The words echo, and then linger in my ear.
Do I choose to listen tonight?
Wind; a bit more than a breeze, nudges me back.
It seems I don't have a choice.
I grudgingly head back home, walking faster and faster,
Remembering the hidden dangers in the dark.
I turn and smile and whisper back to the wind “Until next time!”

Rachel Morris (C) 2009

Open Butterfly Wings

2009-11-24T03:18:00.000-08:00

One day a butterfly flitting on the breeze
came upon and settled on the breast of me.
Words of wisdom it did carry on wings of softened beauty
Mother Nature at her best.

It’s lexis of wisdom
I…nearly missed,
there on the breeze of Mother Nature’s breath.
But
Quietly,
Unwearied
the butterfly in its beauty stayed upon my breast
waiting for its words of wisdom to rest upon
My life’s breathing breath.

Thus, when I did inhale the breath of life I need
the words of wisdom it did carry
became a part of me.

It told me of the beauty my life alone could have,
I must set aside my reservations…
waltz the rhythmic amplification inside of me,
Dance…
Dance… with the earth as god intended it to be

Un published work(c)
By Kellie Shanley 11/2006
Revised 11/2009

Beyond The Lens

2009-11-21T12:04:00.000-08:00

What do I see beyond the lens
The past
A moment kept forever in time
The still of night
in its midnight blue beauty

What do I see beyond the lens
The story of hell on earth
through a one-dimensional picture
telling a powerful account
captured on still faces

What do I see beyond the lens
A smile cropped with sadness
Wheelchairs guided by angel’s wings
Wingless nocturnals in flight

What do I see beyond the lens
Love
Laughter
Life
Magnificent accomplishments in black and white
Great moments evermore

What do I see beyond the lens
Forever
Birth
Existence
Amusement
Grief
Death
Then and now

What do I see beyond the lens
Everything

Kellie M Shanley © 2009

Taupe-iary

2009-11-19T19:01:00.001-08:00

I am Taupe.
Please, you may call me fawn, camel, mushroom or plain light brown, but do not call me blah. Blah insinuates no personality and this is not so. For within my simple existence, exists a topiary garden.

I Taupe
can be anything I choose to be.
For I, a chameleon can easily transform into magnificence. A sibling to mushroom, a bright universal color, or might I be a mushroom, a rapidly growing, expanding, fungus, its color, taupe.
I remain Taupe.

I Taupe am buff, off white, polished manila, camel, though this camel not related to the ruminant mammal of the desert.
Yet I Taupe can be a camel colored Camel that walks the dessert sands.
The dessert sands, colors of camel, light brown, clay or fawn, though not to be confused with a fawn of the forest, which at times is brown, camel or light brown.
Colors related to me, Taupe.
I remain Taupe.

The Fawn alive, brilliant, and not blah, exceptional like the fawn lily, related to dogtooth violet is not violet in color, it is yellow.
Yellow a cousin of taupe, allied to camel in color, not to be mistaken for the airtight camel that lifts submerged ships from their murky waters of gray.

I am Gray;
please you may call me, smoky hue, a color between black and white, but do not call me blah. Blah insinuates no personality and this is not so. For within my simple existence, exists a topiary garden.

Kellie © 1/2007