Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Resting Place

If I could,

I would string a hammock
Between the stars,
Beneath the Moon
Above the Earth
Amidst the Heavens…

I’d climb in Heaven’s hammock,
Curling myself in fetal position,
Covered by the quilt of night –
Blanketed in twinkling darkness,
Cradled in comfort.

Rocking gently back and forth,
Swinging to and fro
From one dream
To the next.

Close the window of opportunity,
Hang a “do not disturb” sign
On the other door that opens
When one door closes.

Leave me in this resting place
Where I can synchronize with the Gods
And rejuvinate my aching body
And exhausted soul.

I would string a hammock
Between the stars…

If I could.

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Had a difficult night last night.  Was irritated because I was supposed to switch Internet companies yesterday – a bundle package with Broadband, Dish T.V. and home telephone.  The technician showed up at about noon and the first words out of his mouth when I opened the front door were, “Ya’all don’t get Broadband out here through our company.”

I ended up cancelling the whole order. There’s only one company that offers Broadband where I live, and I’ve got them… and they suck! *sigh*

Tried to lay down for a nap, but the phone kept ringing… verification calls from the cancelled order.  Really, people?  Three times you have to call just to ask, “Do you really want to cancel your order?” Ugh!

When the phone quit ringing, I tried to lay down again.  This time, the dogs went nuts.  Barking, yelping, whining… what the hell?  I yell out the window a few times, which usually quiets them down, but they kept on.  Something’s out there.  I get out of bed, slip on my son’s flip flops which were conveniently left where they don’t belong by the front door, and headed out to fetch the pups.  They ran from one side of the kennel (the inside) to the other (the outside), all attention focused on one spot.  I see Bella-Beltane in attack mode… tail wagging frantically, front legs bent with paws pinning something.  Nose to the ground, ass in the air.  Sirius doesn’t care, but Odin runs in the opposite direction as Honey dances in circles hoping Bella will share.

“What have you got, Bella? Let it go!”

I walk to Bella… it’s a turtle, tucked safely in its shell.

Turtle magick, eh? I make mental note, but don’t bother to look it up or post it.  I only envy its ability to crawl into its own shell.

Back in the house with all four dogs, I tried to finish my traffic school… ya know, the online course – but, of course, my Internet connection sucks and the course kept freezing in Lesson Two, Section Three.  I repeated the same section six times, and it kept getting stuck in the same place.  Clicked the “life support chat” icon.  Window pops up, “Hi, this is Brenda. How can I help  you?”

“Brenda, my course keeps freezing in Lesson Two, Section Three.”

No reply.


No reply.

“H E L L O!”

No reply.


Sat at my desk staring into space for a long time.  I had tons of books I could have read, but was uninspired to read a single one.  Had two numerology reports to do, didn’t do them.  Finally, I wrote a bit of poetry (which seems to have been inspired by yesterday’s Tarot Card), then put myself to bed where I’d procede to toss and turn until the sheets, blankets, and pillows were on the floor.

Dreamed I was driving up a mountain.  The color and context of the mountain were unique.  Soft sand, the color of … darker than mocha but lighter than chocolate and a cross between gray and brown.  The sand was mesmerizing… captivating.  It held my attention.  There were stone caps on the mountain – and by stone, I mean crystal, but the color of Coca-Cola.  Light reflected from the crystal caps and I was bedazzled. Bewitched. Intrigued. It was a hypnotic effect.  Two times within the dream I nearly drove off the road.  Sirius was in the car with me, also entranced by the sand and the crystal capped mountain. It was seriously hypnotic and took my attention off the car. I had to struggle to stay focused and on the road.

At the top of the mountain was a school, and I was called to the principal’s office on account of my daughter.  She wasn’t in trouble.  On the contrary, she was being acknoweldged for outstanding behavior.  Her class had taken a field trip to a mall.  Two of her friends wanted to steal books from the bookstore.  Stinkerbelle refused.  Angry and frustrated with her “friends”, she walked away.  The two other girls got caught stealing. 

The dream flashed.  I was with my ex-husband, scouting apartments.  We were arguing and he kept telling me how expensive I was, how many sacrifices he’d made for me and my kids, and how much he didn’t want to stay in the state we were in.  I told him to leave.  He did.  The apartment he left us in was a bit run down, but had potential.  They didn’t allow pets and I was trying to figure out how I could convince the landlord otherwise, or hide my dogs, ’cause I wasn’t about to part ways with them.

The alarm went off, and I woke up with thoughts of the crystal peaks and strange colored sand, knowing that there was significance to them that I do not understand.  It reminded me a little bit of that one movie… Strange Encounters, is it?

Kids just left for school, first cup of coffee has been consumed, and I have about 2 hours and 20 minutes to do a full daily dose before I have to shower and leave for work.  Long days today and tomorrow, then a full day of readings with clients on Friday.  Company picnic with Mom on Saturday, then disgusting fourteen hour day Sunday at work, and another long one on Monday.  Sirius to the vet on Tuesday, and the cycle repeats.

Going to refill the coffee, then do the Daily Dose.

Life is good.


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I cannot count all the phenomenally wonderful creative ideas that have fluttered through my head over the past several months – or the not so pretty yet powerful outpours of emotions through words.  They hit me while I’m driving, or while I’m walking through a market, or while I’m at work, or otherwise engaged and unable to write them down.

I cling to them… the muse’s ponderings, holding them firmly in mind until I can reach pen and paper (or keyboard). I tell myself to remember and I repeat the words.  Sometimes it’s only two or three lines, sometimes it’s just one sentence, or a paragraph – but I hold them, I replay them in my head… and then I find the time available and I pick up the pen and I jot the words down. I get so excited about finally being able to take the thoughts from my head and manifest them on paper… and suddenly, once on paper, they’re crap! It’s the same words I saw in my head that seemed so profound, so prolific, so insightful, so well placed – and once placed on paper, they “feel” different.  They’re not as smooth.  They’re choppy.  They’re cheesy.  That’s it… cheesy. Oober cheesy.  Cheese whiz kind of cheesy…. and, well, I’m lactose intolerant.

Ink changes things.

I’m irritated with myself about my writing. There used to be a time I could write three or four poems and a good, solid article in a day – or at least, in a week.  Here it’s been months and months since I’ve created anything I consider of value. I’ve leaned on my archives a lot in creating this blog… digging up nuggets of gold from a year ago, two years ago, ten years ago.  But there’s nothing recent – nothing other than rants and raves about this, that, or the other thing.  It’s all yada yada yada.

Where has my creative ability gone? Is it just that I’m working too many hours and don’t have the time to sit and daydream the way I used to? Is it that I’ve lost the skill all together?  Is the Universe intentionally puting me in a time out? Am I blocked by things I’m afraid to face? (Should I repeat that? *nods* – Am I blocked by things I’m afraid to face?)

Whatever the reason, it’s clear to me that while I may be waxing poetic thoughts in my head, I can’t seem to successfully transfer them to paper. 

Ink changes things.

Here’s what irritates me the most.  I’m not wanting to write for the sake of profession. I don’t require publication to achieve validation – I only want to write for me… to store in my own portfolio, to share here on my blog… to write for the sake of writing.  There’s no pressure, no deadlines, no set topics, no word count requirements… so why can’t I do it?

Maybe I should get back into the practice of writing my “Thoughts of the Day” – and no, that’s not the same as my “coffee thoughts” rambles.  Thoughts of the Day was a writing exercise I used to do where I’d choose a random quote – any quote – and then write four hundred words (or for twenty minutes) about that quote… following the thought wherever it went.  It didn’t always produce good writing, but it kept the pen moving and the muse well exercised. But that begs the question… when?


I guess I’ll just take the creative time out with a grain of salt, work through what needs worked through, continue the “rants” here as I have, and hope that some day, something other than cheese will flow through my pen.


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Intro: This morning’s Daily Dose struck me… more specifically, one line in one of the referenced Tarot sources struck me.  It was the line that said something along the lines of, “… if you spend too much time thinking of the future, you’re going to appear ungrateful for what you have in the present.”  That’s not a direct quote, I’m sure, but it’s the gist of it, anyway.  I didn’t realize the impact it had on me as I finished out the Daily Dose, did the shower thing, slipped into Uniform, and pulled Pixie Dust out of the driveway.  I was driving along the 185 when the words began to cross my mind… almost poetically.  During the course of my poetic daydream driving, a deer in the road caught my attention.  She was huge, beige on the top, white on the bottom, and she ran alongside the Jeep before heading off into the woods.  On the way home, I was thinking again about poetic gratitude when another deer crossed the road in front of me.  I’ll post the message of Deer from my Animal Magick books shortly, but first, I thought it time I show a bit of gratitude… at least for one particular area of my present circumstance.

Written by:
Wendi Friend
June 22, 2008

For noticing…
and walking with me.
For giving me your number
instead of asking for mine.

For answering when I called.
For being perceptive,
and truly listening…
Even to the words I never spoke aloud.

For securing my environment
when it became clear
that my environment
had become a threat.

For the TLC you’ve shown Pixie Dust,
for establishing yourself with my dogs…
not backing away from my kids…
or my airy-fairy fanciful whims.

For knowing how to laugh…
inspiring me to laugh
with your Homer Simpson impersonations
and silly jokes.

For letting me explore
your world with wonder,
satisfying and piquing my curiosities
… for playful passions

I am graTeful.

For not letting me slip
into a comfort zone
and not allowing me to get lost
in familiarity

For not letting me
take my guard down…
even when
I thought I wanted to

For encouraging me
to try new things
and for being willing
to try new things, too

For believing in my gifts
and wanting to share
those gifts
with others

For delightful surprises
left for me to find
on your coffee table
in my own time

For sharing your sage…
— as well as being one —
and at the same time,
for your perfect imperfections

I am graTeful.

For your husky, musky, masculine scent
For your down-to-earth mysticism…
Your golden, glowing, owl-eyes –
And the way they penetrate me

For taking me to new places
singing while you drive
For the stories you tell
and the past you’ve overcome

For bringing me food
on your mother’s porch,
for teaching me to fish…
for more than just fish, in more than a pond

For making me eat my own words
and inspiring me
to choose my words
more carefully

For holding my hand
while I sleep
for making sure there’s coffee
when I wake up

For all the wonderful people
you’ve introduced me to…
and the work you’ve provided
that allows me to provide —

For moonstones
and rune stones…
for perfume and candles
for books, and bottles
(with corks)
For picking me flowers
For tours of enchanted woodlands
For smoky quartz crystals
And black onyx eyes…
For denim duds
treasure chest boxes
and the sun and moon in clay…

as well as those things
you know you can’t say —

for being perfectly honest with me…
even when the truth hurts…

In fact,
especially for your honesty…

For not making promises

For all the things you do
For all the things you can and do say
For being you
and sharing you with me
one day at a time…
even if not forever…

I am


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Intro: I wrote this piece several years ago when working for my sister’s catering/entertainment company back in Las Vegas. She catered tons of company picnics for the hotels/casinos and other big companies. At the company picnics, there’d be excellent food, d.j.s, entertainment, games, and more. Sometimes I worked as the “fortune teller“, sometimes I worked as the bartender. Other times I was the Activities Director… but regardless of the role I played, I absolutely LOVED the vibes of the summer picnics. She later used this poem in one of her advertising brochures. I’m reposting it here today in honor of Summer Solstice.

“Summer Picnic”
Written by:
Wendi Friend

Summer picnic
day of fun
children playing
in the sun
Good food cooking
on the grill
life stands still
Laughter sounding
in the air
people lounging
without a care
Frisbees flying
puppies resting
in the shade
music playing
hula hoops
chitter chatter
in small groups
baseball caps
sand box, shovel
rubber pails
big tall slide
nifty swing
basketball court
soda pop
snow cone, cake
all the sunshine
one can take
frequent smiles
relaxing breeze
pretty flowers
bumble bees
trees to climb
flips, cartwheels
lovers strolling
head over heels
pretty birds singing
floating clouds
clear blue skies
Family gathering….
somewhat mystic
something special
Summer picnic

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Written by:
Wendi Friend


Dog barks
car drives by
stars are covered
by clouded sky

fountain flows
leaves flutter
wind is knocking
on the shutter

storm brews
rain prepares
lightening strikes
thunder dares

frogs croaking
in the trees
crickets chirping
with their knees

light flickers
neighbors sleep
children dreaming
sweet and deep

clear my throat
take a drink
clear my mind
a moment to think

take a breath
then let go…

trust what you feel
not what you think you know

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Written by:
Wendi Friend


Resting… nesting in a happy place
A tranquil space void of face
or form, or reason, or rhyme
Where grace knows no bounds of time
A sublime lack of everything
A well-spring of nothingness… divine
The emptiness… a blessing

Free form falling into self while
Escalating to join the all that is
Where nothing is everything and
Everything exists in nothing
… everything except self
In human form

This is the bliss
to exist by ceasing to exist
to make progress by being motionless
To become wise by not thinking
To flow without swimming
And to take in fresh breath by exhaling

Not awake yet not asleep
Neither here nor there
Without name
Or purpose
And yet
All Powerful
And quite satisfied
In the nothingness that I am
And everything else

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Intro: I wrote this one years ago, August 2004, but I thought of it this morning when doing The Daily Dose, having drawn the Five of Swords Tarot Card.  One of the sources suggested this card could mean getting into an argument with a person who was impossible to argue with… a no-win situation.  As soon as I read that description, this poem popped back into my head. This poem reflects what the two people in the background of this card may be thinking or feeling that caused them to lay down their swords and walk away from the situation.

Written by:
Wendi Friend
August 2004

I am now convinced
That I have no desire
To open my mouth and speak
In your direction.

Cool your fire
Control your flame
Hold your tongue
And your anger tame
I am silenced.

I am now convinced
You’ve no interest in hearing
What I have to say
And I, no more to speak.

Calm your nerves
Quiet your voice
Slow your pulse
This is my choice
I am silenced

I am now convinced
No matter what words I choose
No matter that I come in peace
Trying to communicate is a battle I’ll lose….

I have no interest
In being a verbal punching bag
Or the holder of blame
For your internal unhappiness

I’ve done what I can
And now I’m silenced.


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Intro: Here’s another I’m drawing from ancient archives in honor of today’s Fairy Oracle, Romantic Partner. Again, I admit and openly know that the writing itself kinda sucks (although I am fond of a few lines)… the flow and meter are off, the punctuation is painful, but I’m choosing NOT to edit at this point because the whole purpose of “The Road Home” is to accept and appreciate all of my parts and my past, even the un-polished bits.

“Could This Be Love?”
Written by:
Wendi Friend

To love nature is easy
Just give in to the seasonal flow
Winds can be wild or light and breezy
While rain and sun cause things to grow
But the trees don’t complain
When the weather’s too cold
Nor do they explain
How they feel as they grow old
And though each winter life faces death
Winter exhales living spring’s breath
To love nature is easy

To love children is simple
Just tune in to their laughter
Appreciate their smile’s dimple
And believe in their happily ever after
Honor a child’s innocence and joy
At the simple things around them
They’ll play with the box before the toy
A child’s heart is a gem.
Children love with no conditions
Children openly trust
They have no hidden agenda or missions
Imaginations are robust.
To love children is simple

To love animals is effortless
Those joyful, loyal pets
Who will love you if you’re penniless
And up to your arse in debts
They cuddle without confining
They don’t hog the covers in bed
They don’t require fine dining
And let you know they love you
–without a word ever being said
They are always happy to see you
When you walk through your door
Their love is deep and real and true
They don’t hold grudges
–over things that happened before
To love animals is effortless

To love career is driving
Inspiration lights a fire
Pulse rate up and mind is thriving
Heart is pumping with desire
Everyone wants to be a success
And increase the cash they bank
Because without it you’re helpless-
just a third-class passenger
–on a boat that already sank
We want intelligence and high-class status
So we harness our tools and trade
We maneuver our chosen apparatus
And lead the employment parade
Regardless of the field one chooses
If the passion is right and ripe
One who aggresses never loses
If they’re the career lovin’ type
To love a career is driving

But to love another human
Dear Goddess, the implications
What’s done will never be undone
Regarding intimate relations
Yet still we search and hope to find
A perfect willing match
With a strong, loving heart and powerful mind
To which we can attach
Because alone we feel like half of a whole
And feel like something’s missing –
Like somewhere there exists a twin to our soul
With whom we should be reminiscing
About the good old days back when
In a life more open and free
Before the separation began
When there was unity
And so we find familiar faces
That we think might be lost love
We cling to even the slightest traces
Of that old familiar glove
Only to find we’d made an error
And the glove tried on just doesn’t fit
And all your dreams shatter in terror
And you feel like it’s time you finally quit
Searching for something that can’t be real
For something you’ll never find
For something that will always be surreal
And a figment of your disillusioned mind
But just when you accept this as true
And you give up on the chase
You meet someone who reminds you of you…
Who has a familiar face…

And you wonder…

Could this be love?

(Here we go again!)

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Intro: This was written long ago, around 2000/2001. I remember when, where, and why I wrote it. The punctuation, grammar, and style in this one really stink… and I’m not editing it because I’m at the point in my life where I appreciate the raw expressions of my past without trying to perfect them. I’m re-posting this today because I remembered it when I drew that Romantic Partner Fairy Oracle this morning. The card triggered a memory, so I’m including the memory on “The Road Home.”

“I don’t need you”
Written by:
Wendi Friend

I don’t need you to think I’m sexy
in order to know I’m a woman.
I don’t need you to show me the way
in order for my life to begin.

I don’t need you to call me smart,
in order to recognize intelligence –
and I don’t need to wait for you….
in order to play out my life’s events.

I don’t need to credit you
with all that I become,
I don’t need to belong to you
because I don’t belong to anyone!

I don’t need to beg of you
forgiveness for my mistakes ~
and I won’t worship the ground you walk on,
when the ground that you walk on quakes!

I don’t need to subscribe to the theory
that I can’t live without you
nor will I be suckered into believing
that I’d do anything for love – if it were true.

However …

Because I am a woman,
I’d like to be thought of as sexy.
I don’t fear getting lost along the way,
but I sure wouldn’t mind some company.

I’m not afraid to use my own mind,
but I value other opinions-
and though my life doesn’t depend on it,
I would like a bit of your attention

While I believe it’s sometimes right to be wrong
and that our mistakes can be our virtues,
I’ll try to be understanding through the journey long,
willing to walk a mile in another’s shoes.

And though I’ll walk on my own two feet
to reach the goals I’ve longed for,
the rewards of my efforts would be really neat-
but sharing it with love would be worth more.

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