Imagination is such a playful partner. Can you for a moment conjure such a sight where a little man with a funny hat sits so mysteriously upon his pachyderm? What could he, indeed, be thinking and what sort of adventures have they led?
What a ponderous plight
perched upon a pachyderm
are you perhaps
patrolling for purple parrots?
but they are a persnickerous pack
as they lack any sort of polite
parading past your pachyderm
clearly lacking permission or tact.
Most parents can remember reading bedtime stories to their children. Calming their mind with faraway spun stories of fantasy that allowed their fancy to fly, daring them to stretch and touch the sky. But what of adults and our need to allow our thoughts to soar beyond limited convention? Perhaps similar stories are needed to allow adult minds to find their place, their space to once again fly?
In the dark recess of space
tucked between matter and meditation
the seer’s eye
draws from his sacred place.
Within the portal of magic’s mind
parts the mist of creation’s time.
Wizardry, melding Chaldean chants
concentrates and swirls unearthly bonds
sprinkling Unicorn tusk chivalry
between particles of Pegasus purity.
And in the sparkle and splinter
of matter’s attraction
Allegory’s curtain parts
... stately and steadfast, our Alicorn
reminds us to allow our dreams
to find their form.
The playful part of ourselves is often throttled as we become immersed in the more serious aspects of life and responsibility. Can you remember looking up to the clouds and finding dogs or cats, or maybe even, finding fairies sitting along a river’s brook as you walk in the woods? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could incorporate imagination into our daily lives, allowing us to keep childhood simplicity and joy within our grasp?
Standing by my window sill
i squint and rub my eyes in disbelief
for what i think i might see
is really quite a big deal.
Floating in the air, in a buoyant bounce
were hoards of bees lifting mighty trees
how does logic defy my blinking eyes
when my mind bends simple thoughts
into such beguiling lies?
But rather than cast doubt on my delirious mind
i laughed aloud and straddled my window sill
stepping onto clouds like stepping stones
i buzzed with purple and pink stripped bumble bees
then we took to climbing those floating trees.
As my years grow long, I often ponder ‘But where has life’s magic gone?’ And then without hesitation, I find fragments hidden underneath a rock or buried deep within hollowed knots of forest trees.
Wintergreen Forest Lore
Wintergreen berries quietly shine
a secret beacon for children's eyes.
Hiding upon the carpet of forest floors
while soggy autumn leaves
soften our walk
for deeper we go, into forest lore.
Enchanted, twisted arms of trees
stretch out to us
as if to beseech
from us, don’t leave.
Higher yet above forest floor
fairies and sprites spy in delight
twinkling lights and magical notes
as secret friends of children play.
Children hold carefree court
with magical creatures of all sorts
while ancient magic unfolds its art
before their unburdened joyful hearts.
Oh, aging soul
be not in such a hurry
to leave these lands
sit a while and take pause
...for magic lingers still yet
in wintergreen berries
in forest lore.