Showing posts with label Tiffany. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tiffany. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Pieces of Sky

October 29

PIECES OF SKY



The sky falls in pieces and clutters around my feet.  Scattered are the moon, stars and sun.  Fear and desire have consumed all the rest.  Great tides of resentment wash away reality and replace it with illusion and propaganda.  What am I to do when want drives the course?  Satisfaction is unknown; the luminous butterfly I believed extinct has not yet come to me.  I leave the shards of life to tinkle as I stumble through them and forget to ask for wings of sweet contentment from unexplored realms.  Paper dreams burn with fervor; I peer to see what stands behind.  The gracious weather carries me as a seed to a vaulted canopy, celestial spaces, buoyant and fertile.  I will grow away from the rarefied fragments of unrealistic vistas, sinking roots deep in cohesion and truth.  Pieces of sky melt to rainbows; home is the nature of things.


Jingle your intellectual change.
*


On a Half-shell in Front of Tiffany’s

Pretty petty pearls wait in oysters
more perturbed than annoyed.
I string my tears for the sake of posterity
leaving the dreams to fend for themselves.

I am nothing if not splendidly prepared
for a life less steeped in wishes than realism.
Opening volleys tell a tale of round irritation,
but I am not finished just yet.

Joy comes from surpassing obstacles
and wearing healed grief
as precious gems around my neck.



You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

On a Half-Shell in Front of Tiffany's

October 30


On a Half-shell in Front of Tiffany’s

Pretty petty pearls wait in oysters more perturbed than annoyed.  I string my tears for the sake of posterity leaving the dreams to fend for themselves.  I am nothing if not splendidly prepared for a life less steeped in wishes than realism.  Opening volleys tell a tale of round irritation, but I am not finished just yet.  Joy comes from surpassing obstacles and wearing healed grief as precious gems around my neck.



Pick a retirement home for your critics

*

EIGHT MISTAKES CLOSER

I am eight mistakes closer to perfection.
As long as I fall forward, progress is being made.
I fail meticulously toward my goal
More cannot be asked.

Loss, pain, frustration are strong teachers and motivators.
I suck each splinter for knowledge,
Extracting juice from every fragment for information.
In spite of sprains and strains I have stretched
Attaining almost my full height.

Growth is a wonderful thing though cost is always involved.
Mistakes are an unavoidable price
But well worth the expense.
They are an expense which pays dividends
Dividends that move me towards perfection.


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault