a journey filled with many familiar paths and some not yet taken... all leading to the ever-changing destinations just waiting to be discovered.

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Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Each Moment

photo by Petrina Lesko
each moment precious
gifted treasures of glory 
blessings of new days

Petrina Lesko
June 2011

Today is a very SPECIAL day over at One Stop Poetry as this day marks one year of prompts for One Shot Wednesday, their weekly poetry prompt for anyone who wants to join in with other very talented poets, sharing their work, joining the camaraderie ...

A big THANK YOU to the entire One Stop team... Happy 1st year anniversary!  It has been a fabulous fun ride.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Arms Outstretched



Tonight is the new prompt for...

Jingle Poetry Potluck Week 41  'Our Theme of the Week is  "Saints, Monks and Meditation"!!   We (Jingle & Riika) offer you our warmest greetings to another fantastic week of Poetry Potluck. It is time to enjoy the peace surrounding us now in the form of mediation, the moment of tranquility within the prayers by the monks, and don't forget the teaching of the holy saints.'



Arms Outstretched

photo by Petrina Lesko
I sit, my soul bare to you,
Arms outstretched to touch your grace,
Beneath the warmth of skies of blue,
Far away, beneath the pathways.

My mind clears as the clouds from sky,
Solace within the crowds of life,
Asking of myself, asking why,
Busy days to this heart bring strife.

Seeking moments still in silence,
Joined with thee, in nature's way,
My heart bares it soul in pence,
Purity partakes, blessed this day.

For with my soul bare in this place,
Arms outstretched to touch your grace.

Petrina Lesko
June 2011
photo by Petrina Lesko


Convergance


'Converging' by Adam Romanowicz
my droplets in time
converge to center moments
forever within

Petrina Lesko
June 2011

Today over at One Stop Poetry  and 1SS they have interview a fabulous abstract photographer...


'Adam Romanowicz is an avid pursuer of the artistic and the abstract. An engineer in “the real world,” Romanowicz’s passion for composition and the outdoors has led him to an adventurous life of fine art, as well as editorial and commercial stock photography. His website, 3scape is an award-winning institution show-casing his fine art work. His published credits run the gamut, from CD covers and store displays to the Oxford Dictionary for the Middle Ages.'



Please join in the fun writing that has been transcended from his wonderful photography.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Today is the beginning of a new day, new opportunities to be all that we want to be.  We can begin to make things just as we want them in our lives, if only we believe that we can.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

In the Moment's Darkness

In the moment's darkness,
And in the moment's light,
The earth warm as the morning night,
The sky dark as the night's moon bright.

To each day held in starkness,
And the night beneath the days,
Earthen beds bring planting ways,
Shadows dance upon reflecting rays.

The fire ignites though be spark less,
Ashen walls bear birth within plight,
Generating new fruits in sight,
Feeding upon the earthen fight.

To one day begin all new ways,
Organic growth, recycling plays,
To bring new light for gentle days,
And hope to generation's theys.

For in the moment's darkness,
Begins hope of moment's light,
To change the ways of being might,
Lend to days and years, beaming bright.

Petrina Lesko
June 2011

Linking this over at One Stop Poetry for this week's One Shot Wednesday.  Check out the party there to read some fabulous poetry of both up and coming poets, as well as some truly seasoned artists of the word.

Monday, June 20, 2011

A Price was Paid


photo by Tess Kincaid
offered as Mag 70


















For through the years, she held so much in grace...
Beyond the moments of her stolen times,
Staring stoically through us, another place,
Secrets hinted at deep within like rhymes.

Always looking beyond the doorway step,
Longing to see him coming round the bend,
Quiet stolen memories laid as she wept,
Letters postmarked from places he would send.

A pose struck, like stone afore the dim light,
Yet, as her heart poured out, darkness was laid,
Left alone in the world, she passed on that night,
For through the years grace, but a price was paid.

Left a longing heart as her will would be,
No others welcomed in her life she stayed,
But there in her day, no one else could she see,
For through the years grace, but a price was paid.


Petrina Lesko
June 2011


An interesting photo shared this week for the Magpie Tales prompt.  The sale price struck a real chord of those who leave this world with no one to cherish the memories.  While yet others, forget to take the time to capture photos of the memories, always engraved yet still in our hearts.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

In Solitude...

Over at Jingle Poetry for the fabulous Poetry Potluck they have invited us to join in this week, as they "(poetically) sink into that feared world of  "Void, Loneliness and Sorrow" .... Don't be too sad though.. Just join us..and fight this fear together!!"


Today I sit in solitude, remembering...
Forty years, always knowing you were there,
Now, in my silence, is an unbearable loss,
For now I sit in solitude, bearing my cross.

The gardenia's spiced scent wafts silently,
Breezes transcend time... gently back to where,
Standing in the garden, together we would toss,
Life bits of conversation under the tree's moss.

Moments meant to last forever, always you'd sing,
For in this union we promised, until death's glare,
Would stare into one heart left... alone to bear loss,
Of the life long love meant to be... thine eyes shall gloss.

Gardens now are filled with the company of thee,
Friends and family have come forth to share,
Memories and moments all are quite dross,
For nothing can make bearable the pain, the loss.

For now I sit in solitude, remembering...
Forty years, always knowing you were there,
Now, in my silence, is an unbearable loss,
Today I sit in solitude, bearing my cross.

Petrina Lesko
June 2011

Another bit of dark poetry for me, though I think it meets the theme nicely.  A loss most of us could only imagine the depths of... one that I'm sure would carry much sorrow and loneliness. 

On a lighter note... I would like to thank Everyday Goddess for the Goddess Award and Toasting my post The Single Red Brick this week.  I am truly honored that she would share my post with all of her readers.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

In Search of a Canvas


photo by Chris Galford
as shared at 1SS at One Stop Poetry
































In search of a canvas,
I paint where I can...
Yet where I am not wanted.

In search of a canvas,
I paint when eyes are lost,
Yet in the darkness colors bright.

In search of a canvas,
I dare to walk the heights,
Steeling along for backgrounds more.

In search of a canvas,
I paint where I can...
Yet where I am not wanted.

In search of a canvas,
I speak words unheard,
Altered words against the wall.

In search of a canvas,
I paint where I can...
I long for a brief moment's glory...
 
In search of a canvas,
Yet as the day comes dawn,
Still... where I am not wanted.
 
Petrina Lesko
June 2011

This Sunday over at One Stop Poetry the topic... the photo prompts are all about graffiti and what it inspires in us, the writers of craft.  This was my take... hope you enjoyed it.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

The Single Red Brick

Over at Theme Thursday this week, they are offering up the following picture prompt...  to inspire writer's to keep the muse sparked, sharing in the joy of writing.

"Brick" as posted at Theme Thursday

A brick wall, signifying the end of the road... a dead end if you will.  But... really the options are endless.  A brief turn offered, another direction to travel, another wonderful opportunity.  Or maybe just a pass through, lending to the need to change even ones mode of travel... Driving to the end, hopping out of the car and then walking the rest of the pathway to where? 

I'd like to think that just off to the right, a pass-thru, a dirt path leading through a small grove of trees.  Walk with me to explore this beauty, this road less travelled.  The air is thick with eucalyptus... the trees tower above, the ground covered with ivy below the grove.  A hint of sea salt, as a mist carries on the breeze.  As we reach the bright lit area beyond the darkness of the grove, the sound of sea gulls calling to one another.  The crash of the waves from below as the path gently turns along the cliffside edge a few feet beyond the trees.  There is a wooden rail running along, a beautiful butterfly of purple and brown rests gently on the wooden beam.  And beyond, out above the sea, an azure blue sky filled with billoughy white puffs of cotton candy floating above the white breaking waves....  As my eyes drop down to the crashing of the waves on the shore below, there at the base of the wooden post, sitting in the greying dirt, a single red brick.

This brick, did it really signify the end of something, or simply the beginning of a wonderful rest in the journey...  I smile and take in all the energies of this place, refueling my soul.

Petrina Lesko
June 2011

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

For it is within the quiet everyday moments in which we leave our greatest mark on the world.

What mark will you leave today?

Monday, June 13, 2011

Whispering Ways


Once again, it is time to share the treasures found over at Magpie Tales, a blogging meme offered by Tess Kincaid.  There, each week, she posts a wonderful picture, sparking the muse of many, to share in the inspirational thoughts of those who join in.

Magpie #69
 















To touch, trace with gentle fingertips,
It is then that ye shall feel the ebb of days,
Woven within the flow, carved as dips,
Mounds guiding curves, the battle of my ways.

Mapped for futures told, thunderous crashing,
Tide-ripped currents, held within the whisper,
Ears listening to tales I've told, thrashing,
Yet a solstice of nights, cold and crisper.

Forever, my lines shall hold my form tight,
Cradled on the shores for those who shall seek,
Glisten against the sunlit sands in plight,
Bound by memories, silted in hearts meek.

Your treasure...crushed and tumbled, only still,
Into pathways of your inner sanctums,
Held like sun-bleached martyrs upon the sill,
Precious memories... whispered by the humms.

Still, shared within my whispering ways,
Secrets tossed upon the shore, thus you find,
Strewn across the sands on the darkest days,
It is there that you seek shells of my kind.

Petrina Lesko
June 2011

Sunday, June 12, 2011

No Matter What...

Over at Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck the theme this week is "Dictatorship, Autocracy, and Despotism"!!   They allude to all of us experiencing this in some way and have asked us to share a poem representing the experience. 

Though we did all that we knew how,
Still... nothing ever was quite good enough.
They teased, they poked at the seams now,
Walked away once, you said he wasn't tough.
Stood tall to fight, called him a sow,
Still, you wanted more, for us to be thou.

Always we did what you told us to do,
Yet this still was not right, you told us each day,
For we did all that we knew you wanted us to,
Still... somehow nothing was ever quite the way,
Studied hard, passed the test, what is the roo?
What is it that will be enough for you to say...

Finished growing... torn apart from the world,
Always... no matter what... the despotism you furled.

Petrina Lesko
June 2011

Saturday, June 11, 2011

The Bell Sounds...


'They Never Call...' by Rob Hanson Photography


















Faintly... in the distant echoes of time,
Stretching far beyond the length of your lines,
Buried beneath the dusty layers climb,
And the bell sounds... an urgency of kinds...


Calling forth, the lost numbers unwritten,
Pane-staking images, hues dimmed yet all,
Combine beneath the years, once yet bitten,
Diagrammed plans, changing hearts, here the call...


Changing times post beyond the doorway now,
Documented dreams bear forth the future,
For deep within, beating it's heart lies how,
Master-crafted as the bootman's suture...


Faintly... in the distant echoes of time,
Now the bell sounds... an urgency of rhyme.


Petrina Lesko
June 2011

In what now seems a distant time long ago, there lied lines, plans of a new picture for me... calling, if you will, with an urgency.  The bell sounded, alerting me to new beginnings... From those beginnings (of a year ago) came my adventure through blogland.  Looking beyond the dusty shelves, searching the photos posted, the words translated through new creativites and familiar rhymes... the call stretched through the lines transmitting new energies, new outlets, ultimately bringing me to this point.  It is with great joy that I reach my first blogoversary, renewed in my creative energies, hoping to carry my message beyond all known possibilities, as did the first telephone call placed by A. G. Bell.  (What would he be thinking now of the wireless generation of communcations?)

As the bell sounds today, I send the message of a very special  THANK YOU  to everyone here in blogland who has taken the time to stop by and listen to my message.  Thank you for all of the encouragement and guidance over the past year.  It has been a fabulously exciting journey.

Also linking this post over to One Stop Poetry and this weeks 1SS photography interview (part 2) with Rob Hanson and his amazing photography.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Incomparable Moments

To each this day goes
Incomparable moments
Memorable nights

Each moment of our lives, a precious gift given to do with what we choose.  How then do so many choose these moments to be angry, hurried, defiant... bursting forth to meld with moments others have chosen, realizing the gifts within... infringed and tangled like the web and it's creator lying in wait of another?  Do they truly believe it is within their right to infringe this hostile perspective on all of those around them?

What then shall we choose of the moments of tomorrow?  With what value do we hold our loved ones forth? 

Today, well really on Saturday, the Writer's Island prompt for the week is Incomparable.  To this one questioning mind, what we have come to in sharing our moments is incomparable to the joys that we could be sharing.