What I write, says a lot about me.
What I don’t write, says the rest.

Here in Oregon, there is a lot of spectacular scenery to appreciate. My neighborhood is surrounded by an evergreen forest that is home to many creatures. I’m often visited by a myriad of them on a daily basis. They are all magical to me; from the tiniest of hummingbirds to the occasional deer that helps themselves to the bird-feeder goodies and all the creatures ‘great and small‘ in-between. This little guy was out this morning with his friends waiting and watching as I refilled the feeders and provided treats for the ground critters. Some folks call them a nuisance… but I call them my friends.

Each poem is a new destination
like typing out an itinerary
with some nouns, verbs,
and sometimes rhyme.
While drinking wine
from old jelly glasses —
I follow my rusty compass
reservations and navigate
with wrinkled maps.
My life: just mis-
matched luggage,
as sight-seeing
years pass me by…
one by one by one.

© Roxi St. Clair

Above my head; the sky
where the moon goes to nest at midnight
and sunset leaps the void at last
to make a single beam of light
upon the water.

To my right; the sea
where she silently curls up on pillows
of white briny foam
glowing with
phosphorus.

To my left; the wall
where barnacles and urchins
cling desperately to the rocks
despite the waves, wind,
and storms.

Below my feet; the sand
where the vibrations of the sea can be felt
and every grain has a story to be told
of others who’ve walked here
before me.

Before my eyes; a shooting star
where the palpable soul of heaven
is a witness to the last breath
of twilight and the first
shivers of dawn.

In my hand; a glass bottle
where I place the shooting star
and launch my wishes that remain
whether in dreams or reality
to be delivered by the sea.

© Roxi St. Clair

Life is like a maze of hallways full of closed and open doors. The same is true within the chambers of our heart, soul, and mind. Some doors have windows that we may peek into before we choose whether or not we want to turn the knob and enter. Others are solid, and it is a crap-shoot as to what we will walk into. Some doors are locked, and we are denied entry. Sometimes, there are no doors at all. We wander through these corridors, and sometimes we are discovered, sometimes we are lost, and sometimes we just ‘are’. And then there are those who ‘people’ our journey.

I think I’ve said a thousand goodbyes in my life, to family, friends, lovers, pets, and even parts of myself. Some goodbyes took longer than others, some were only temporary, and some were permanent. I know what it’s like to witness the last breath of someone I Continue reading “Doors, Corridors, And Lessons Learned”

Amidst the fury and pathos
laden with cataclysms —
each revolution of
our existence
unravels
and evolves;
because time…
let’s not forget time —
how it counts the seconds
in whole numbers
ever moving ahead
with indifference
as minutes
brood a moment
or more behind
while the pendulum
hangs on a whisper.

This is the sum
of our years.

© Roxi St. Clair