SuziCate's Musings

Archive for June, 2011

Laid To Rest

from the vine it tore

cast unto the forest floor

trumpet blares no more


bright sun upon dust

withering to crimson rust

to die as we must


Rolling, gurgling, splash.

Water trickles through the rocks.

Waves wash over me


Running, falling, crash.

Current flows and never stops,

Cost of being free.


Peeking through the slot

edits my view of the world.

My eyes are slighted.

My piece of the world

Is but a glimpse of this life

Where the big picture?

The Process

Van Gogh painting

Springing and ringing from the belly

this chaos, turning and churning

Emerging and curving from the void

rising and falling, coming forth and stalling

transfixed in awe, we wait it out

twisting and turning, smoldering and burning

chiseled, tap by tap

formed, ridge by gap

written, word by word,

taking shape until it is heard

painted, stroke by stroke,

almost evolved from smoke

and so it is pieced to completion,

this beast of the belly,

this work of art


not afraid of heights

does things you will never dare,

feats that make you scared


tiptoes through the nights

as if she hasn’t a care

girl’s got to earn bread


flipping rush excites

in a world where life’s not fair

lonely hearts are fed


spinning through bright lights

contortionist flies in air

hanging by a thread

Night Storm


Wind ripped and howled like angry dogs

Rain pelted against skin and bone like diving wasps

searching for sweet nectar of wild honey suckle

within a shadowed landscape

Clouds shook hands and leaves danced

while the rest of us remained perplexed

as bitterness drifted out with the fog

The moon smirked at all that played beneath him

No Longer A Flying Toy

I was but a small regret

of a lifetime long ago

a sunny kite snared

in gnarly limbs

angry winds whipped and battered

pattern torn from frame

twisted string trailed a tail

of purple ribbons flapping in the sky

bitter gusts break ties and freedom soars

above the birds nests and with the stars

so close I smell the talc of heaven itself

and taste God’s tears before they fall to earth

He tells me I am no regret

Tag Cloud