The Healer

Healing Light

Healing Light – photo by Wild Thing

Vials of oils
Lined up
Candles too
Incense placed
Into holders
The healer begins

Low chant
Circle cast
Calling out
Inviting in
Elementals

Lit candles
Scented smoke
Create focus
Lyrical words
Raises energy

Becoming light
Bright
Silver
With direction
Out it goes

Connected
Time falls away
Light carries
Life force
From one
To another

Burning
Illness away
Giving comfort
Strength
Weaving health
Soft croon
Creates peace

Healing energy
Flows freely
With pure love
And intent
From an open
Heart …
An honest soul

Wild Thing ©July 8, 2017

A Woman

The Wild

The Wild ~ Digital Art by Wild Thing

A woman
Will stand a lot
From a man
When she knows
She is first
In his heart

Coming home
Late from fishing
A wildflower
Softens her eyes
Over the burnt
Offerings of dinner

Words of love
On a busy day
To let her
Know she’s
Being thought of
Makes the hours
Fly by

Holding her close
Swaying to
Imaginary music
To tell her
She’s beautiful
As she cleans
And watch her
Become so

Surprise her
With laughter
When life becomes
Ordinary
Then James Dean
For a little
Danger
But never cruel

Know her ways
The signs
She gives
That tells you
Of her needs

Late at night
Love her tenderly
Madly, wildly
Over and over
Until finally
Sated, she sleeps

Yes, a woman
Will stand a lot
From a man
When she knows
She is first
In his heart

Wild Thing ©July 5, 2017

 

Bouncing Pumpkins

Bouncing Pumpkins

Bouncing Pumpkins – digital Art by Wild Thing

No moonlight
October chill
On a dare
Two girls shiver
Just beyond the field

Farmhouse dark
Stealthy crawl
Damn dog barks
They freeze

No lights appear
Big exhale
They continue
On their mission

Hands find
What they seek
Stifled giggles
Each girl grabs two

Duck waddle now
Back to cover
In darker shadows
Of the trees
Breaking into a run

On the road
Finally, deep breaths
Made it!
Down to work

Each takes one
Raises it
Above her head
Smashes it down
It bounces!

Stunned looks
They pick them up
Do it again
They bounce

Clouds break
Moonlight shines down
Damn pumpkins …
Were green

Wild Thing ©June 19, 2017

Finding My Voice

Finding My Voice

Finding My Voice – by Wild Thing

I am proud to share with you, the announcement of my first book: Finding My Voice. It’s a Collection of what I consider to be my best poems, paired with some of my photos that have been digitally altered by me.

It’s printed on white paper and the art is full color that has a slight gloss to it. It was my goal to create something unique that would be at home on your bookshelf or your coffee table.

The poetry is some works that have appeared here as well as some that is new. It is my hope that you enjoy it as much as I did putting it together for you.

Get your copy today: Finding My Voice by Wild Thing

Wild Thing

Only One . . .

Only One

My Father and I . . . Ft. Hood Tx

There is
Only one man
In my life
Who has never
Let me down

Hard … troubled
Often dark times
For him
Still his presence
A strength

When all others
Have failed me
He’s there

He gets angry
At times
Rebukes me

Praise for me
Is a smile
A short phrase
Not much more

But . . .
Shares with others
Beaming bright
With pride
He tells of me

I never hear this
It’s told me
Via grapevine

Heaven help those
Who hurt me
Through lies
Or betrayal

The God’s wrath
Mere child’s play
His Fury
And vengeance
Is swift

A love for me
So great
It shields
And protects

Only one man
Is all this . . .

He passed away
May 18, 2006
No one has ever
Filled his shoes

Wild Thing ©May10, 2017

Laurie

Bright Morning

Bright Morning – photo by Wild Thing

Shared memories
Joys . . . sorrows
Late night giggles
Life passages
First bras
Boyfriends too
Drivers licenses
High school job
Santa’s lap
Shopping for birthdays
Arguing
Forgiving
Gladys Cravitz
Three cent tip
Laughter . . . tears
Prom disaster
Marriages
Drifting apart
Finding each other
Real friend

Wild Thing ©May 3, 2017

Promises*

autumn-burdocksm

Autumn Burdock – photo by Wild Thing

A promise given
Received
With joy
Gently placed
In a basket
To be savored
Until its arrival
With expectation
Hopeful days
Pass
It never comes

Another promise
Arrives
In the basket
It goes
Believing again
Only to see
It curls up
Like the other

Soon the basket
Fills with
Withered promises
It’s put away
With the pain
Of being forgotten

More promises
Arrive
Like butterflies
Beautiful
Then flutter away

Leaving behind
Wistful
Knowledge
That it will
Never happen
Which is
Better than
Expectation
Unfulfilled

Wild Thing ©February 18, 2017

*This poem was written for the Prompt 2.17 for the Writing Rebels.
It must suck to have promises made that are never kept. I mean we all know what it’s like, but to be an entire race of people? I think of Standing rock … being Black … Hispanic … all the broken promises made to them & then I am ashamed to bemoan any that have been broken to me. Anyway, I tried to capture that feeling & don’t think I came very close to it … but for what it’s worth. This was my attempt.