SuziCate's Musings

Archive for November, 2010

In The Ease Of Night

Evening falls

Like a gown slipping

Quietly and effortlessly

Across a golden oak floor

Stars sparkle and dance

Like crystal shimmers

Of a ballroom chandelier

Night eases in and swaddles

Beneath celestial guard of Luna

Bodies tire and surrender

To the visit of Sandman

Until he is whisked away

By the diamond glint of morn

That bursts forth

Like a rushing spring


A Little Bit Of The Natural World

An Autumn Song

 I am the crisp breeze

that splatters your soul

with myriad hues of scarlet and gold.


I am a cantata of leaves

that serenade and cajole

with words unspoken, secrets untold.


I am the pitter and patter

of soft falling rain

upon the brown decaying ground.


I am the heart of the matter,

the joy and pain

of all this green, life once found.


I am past summer’s end;

not quite winter’s death,

but life’s chosen state of rest.


I am the gentle bend

of that exhilarating breath

reaching nature’s vibrant crest.


I beckon you to wait and see

for all that is to come and be


This poem is featured at Jingles Poetry Potluck today. Prompt is Nature: Plants, Creatures, and the Cosmos.


 Illuminated by starry sky

Grounded by grass at my feet

I can’t help but wonder why

The truth of nature is discreet


I often try to outrun the wind

Or prophesy age by rings of trees

But I always end where I begin

for not all is measured in degrees


 I swim the rivers wide and deep

And leave my tracks in ivory snow

I scribble in the sand when I sleep

And when I wake I still don’t know


 I hear it not in faint whispers in wind

Nor in coyote howl or lion roar

I look high and low, round every bend

Nor do I salvage it in ancestral lore


 Brown plume of ash and rising steam

That dusted forth upon the dawn of time

Has not fossilized enough for me to glean

The answers I await, that one cosmic sign


And so I continue to wonder why I am here

I’ll stretch and search until the flames die down,

Until the tingling of my soul is no longer fear,

Until the intention of my being has been found


 So I pause between milky way and milky weed

anticipating alignment and synchronicity that say

It is right here, all that you ever want or need,

                       resting in every moment between dusk and rising day

 It slumbers within mountains, rivers, and plains

It is the sacred secret that vibrates in every bone

Beneath all that’s left of time’s charred remains,

The answer lurks, an ancient hymn written in stone

Plant Of Fire

Within branches the nesting birds do bed

Tiny white flowers bud into a robust red

You’re affectionately often called the firethorn

We cut and vase your festive foliage to adorn

Your dense thorny structure creates a wall

When red comes to call, I know it is Fall

Pyracantha, my barrier shrub of fire

You are the heart of Autumn’s desire

You Are…

You are the deep chamber of thought in which I dive

You are the good of mankind for which I strive

You are the breath of my sacred I take in each day

You are the north on my compass that points my way

You are all things before, after, and in between

You’re all I’ve ever known and all I’ve never seen

You are the Sun Coral that brightens the heart of my seas

You are the circle of love that brings me to my knees

You are the one for which I longed before I even knew

You are the answer when I have not the slightest clue

You are the one for whom I was most perfectly made

You are in my times of uncertainty, my stone of jade

You are the spark that lights the caverns of my soul

You’re the intricate puzzle piece that makes me whole

You are rivers swift and mountains steep, combined

You are the most intimate of my essence, sublimed


She has no partner

For she rules the worlds of all

From royalty to common folk

She watches from dawn til dusk

And every hour settled between

She calls forth with each new day

Whispering, echoing from beyond

With a tantalizing dance of eternity

But she can not be bought

She may appear to favor

Some more than others

But in the end

One by one

She takes us all

Prompt is “Peerless”.

The Scribbler

Oh, how I try

One word at a time

Deleting and replacing

Until I get it just so, and

I rewrite it at least once more

Then I string a sentence with another

and another until I complete a paragraph

A comma here and a period there, so is grammar

Dropping adverbs and adjectives for concrete verbs and nouns

I sling around words of interest, forming poems inside my head

Then I delete sentences and paragraphs of self doubt

I moan, groan, and struggle as I fights ideas

And wonder if I make any sense at all

And some days the words never come

A blank page is the worst pain

Any expression is better than none

I try and I try as I may someday

Become more than a scribbler

A writer of intent, of reflection.

Of words that touch, soothe,

Words that matter

Words of life

Oh, how I try

 Prompt is “Apprentice”.

In Memory Of Camille

They went to work, visited folks,

tended their farms, and ventured out to play.

They cooked, cleaned, and shopped.

It was nothing extraordinary, just another day.

Until the Heavens broke beneath a veil of darkness,

and the pounding rains came beating down.

Twenty-five inches in just five hours time,

life as they knew it was no where to be found.

Lives that were not stolen in the night

were shattered like shards of broken glass.

Mountains tumbled, and fields became rivers,

devastating a once lush green land mass.

Screams muffled by the river’s roar,

survivors clung to life on roof and trees.

Searching through death and ruin, rescuers

hoped to find life and listened for pleas.

People gathered, prayed, and labored

as sorrowful hearts echoed the torn land.

They buried, salvaged, cleared, and rebuilt.

And the strangers they came, offered a hand.

So much happened in so little time ,

what a difference a day can make-

And when our souls are tested,

it’s amazing how much we can take.

When we have God and community,

upon which to lay our burdens down,

we have a place to plant our roots

that is sturdier and trustier than ground.

Scars upon the mountains, hearts, and souls,

but amongst thorns, flowers still grow.

Through love and courage, the people prevail,

and Nelson is still the home I know.

Sunday Scribblings prompt is “What a difference a day can make”.

****This is written about Hurricane Camille that devasted the county I lived in when I was six years old. This tells the story in my other blog. The photograph above the poem is my husband’s grandfather’s home that was destroyed in the flood.



The balm of silence does not ensure forgiveness

Any more than living recklessly negates blame

And scratching and rolling in the dirt does not

Suffocate the flames burning upon our hearts

We know the song of the living is not a lament

But a passage to deeper understanding

But who has the right to define our paradise?

Smoldering ash forms ghosts on the ground

While charred flesh rises on wings

We ascend higher than the trees and clouds

Where temptations peel off and fall away

We may splinter and scatter

But always, we survive

And we learn to speak again

****This was first published in Mused (

 One Shot Wednesday



Creator of the soil, the rock, and the tree

Maker of water, earth, wind, and fire

All that I can taste, touch, feel, and see

All that has been and will come to transpire


Father of the mountains and the sea

You painted the valleys, rivers, and caves

Oh, the glory and wonder of your majesty

And the timeless echoes your landscape paves


Lord of the forest and the cloud-scattered sky

We know that you watch over us from above

And the only answer to the question of why

Is that we see the colors of your great love


Blessed with Your miracles and love divine

We know the power in the sweep of Your hand

As we revel in the intricacies of Your design

And we bask in the beauty of this wonderland


Was not magic nor wizardry but your plan

Miracles and wonder within your touch

And the grace that you have given man

All because you love us this much

Prompt is “Magic, Miracles, Wonder, & Wizardry”.

Soul Sensation

A tickle beneath skin and bone

That urges beyond time and space

Restless, unchanging, and alone

Imprisoned in a body of empty face


It is the soaring invisible wind

That whispers, screams, and echoes

That will not break but will bend

To holds the secrets no one knows


A misunderstood eternal call

A sacred song of perplexed heart

Tis a mystery of rise and fall

That will not end and did not start

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