Devil’s Peak
Category: Writing and Poetry

Devil's Peak

Walking east of Devil's Peak

on the north edge of Nowhere,

head south to Dragon's Mouth

destination…No Fear.

A dusty path, a heavy load,

and a bag of broken bones,

memories freed take the lead,

down to Tassajara Road.

Fires burn and smoke churns

lessons learned, hearts yearn,

for cleansing tears of rain.

Kill Darkness once named Light

hold Happiness now called pain.

Weary hands on broken land

Brave hearts that take a stand,

they travel on to sing a song

to make Right what's gone Wrong.

Devil peaks up to the sky

asking why it cannot die and

just lay down with Thunder.

A world lost at such a cost

It makes me stop and wonder.

4:53 AM - 2 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Spirit Sister
Category: Writing and Poetry

Spirit Sister

Foot upon a thorny stone,
crying wild, calling known.
Future followed, stirring dust
settled shale the color rust.
Shaded layers in petal rose.
a tear drops, wind blows.

She calls me from the desert,
She calls me from the stone,
She calls me from the darkest night
my tethered wings unthroaned.

Should she never speak again,
I hear the words of her whisper.
I am never lost to she.
She is my spirit sister.

Leslie Glass - June 2008

11:22 AM - 3 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Destined Time
Category: Writing and Poetry

Destined Time

Time is destiny.

It surrounds us,

in freedom,

true and untethered.

We take to the horizon in life

without border nor burdon.

Time shared is without limit.

Time, our destiny... to be.

Within in it, we choose the path we travel.

As time permits, we travel onward, unsaddled.

Time passes in moments unforgotten.

The essence of what I love

is held warm within the arms of time,

within hope and anticipated time to come.

The essence of time is our destiny.

The essence of time is our truth.

6:41 AM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

"ah shi sle pah"
Category: Writing and Poetry

"ah shi sle pah"

" u weave the words into a basket of stories
stories for all to read
you weave with your spirit the inspiration
 from which the words come forth"

"ah shi sle pah"
she speaks in mother tongue
out of heart of tewa
'moccasins' that travel on
chosen words
speak in song
to dance upon
the desert grains of sand.

In spirit world
without a border
two spirits cross
celestial time
vernal equinox
to the autumnal
of enchanted lands
she takes his hand
together they land
in the place of wonder
to a place they call down under.
a darkened sky fills with thunder,
along the shores of the Rio Grande
to a place beyond the sand
from here to there
pueblos shared

"ah shi sle pah"

Kiowa-Tanoan
words not known
to walk alone
to speak aloud
of the proud
the brave
and the lonely

Leslie Glass

5:19 AM - 4 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Serenity
Category: Writing and Poetry

'Serenity'

In a dream that passes by,
never cease to wonder why,
how moments crisp and undenied,
fade translucent without light.

A hollow moon drops out of sight,
yet still there on the other side,
to wait the days, to bide the time,
in passage, a light that cannot hide.

Mist of smoke, illusion rare,
golden thread on thought is bared.
As the tide pulls to the moon,
he rides the cry of the haunting loon.

In a chant he comes to me,
my slivered moon and destiny,
hear the cry I long to free,
sweet honey dreams of serenity.

Copyright April 2008 - Leslie Glass

5:08 AM - 14 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

Force of Nature

Force of Nature

They walk together hand in hand,
Flame that burns a thirsty land,
and Rain that drops to make a stand.
 
Without Flame, Rain will die.
Life does cease when cinders fly.
If Rain should take the upper hand,
Earth flows far from promised land,
Flame does burn a Furied Fire,
Rain does boil, rise, expire.
 
'till color Green no longer seen,
nor Rainbow hues, once Serene,
Sun does darken, falls out of sight,
Mother dies in perilous fight.
 
Should either Rise to Rule another,
scorn your Sister, kill your Brother,
all things die, without each other.
 
On Earth we worry, cry, and pray.
It matters not what mortals say,
Flame and Rain both come in Glory
Each with purpose and powerful story.
 
Leslie Glass
February 19, 2008

9:07 PM - 7 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

Thunder
Category: Writing and Poetry

Thunder

My Thunder lie in purple sky,
he rides the dark horizon
His heraldic colors emblazon.

Silent footsteps gather 'round
to feel his sound
of unbound spirit laughter.

Encircled volts and lightning bolts,
scintillates sparks of fire,
soothing voice, a song in flaming choir.

A muse, my Thunder
enchanted wonder,
in light of pure desire.

There is no pain in heaven's rain
dare not put out my fire.

Leslie Glass
Copyright - February 14, 2008
All rights reserved

4:55 AM - 7 Comments - 13 Kudos - Add Comment

Step Away
Category: Writing and Poetry

Step Away

Step away,
step away from the window.
You are not allowed to look out,
to see the world
through rose colored glasses.

Your choice in life is to look
through the haze of smoke-filled rooms
to gaze upon your reflection now tinged in yellow and gray.

Your fate now sealed in stone,
with shallow breath,
body poisened,
life and breath
owned by artifical tank and tubes.

The feet that carry your burdon of life
now destined to walk with wheels.

Step away from the monsters that beckon you
with promise of comfort and friendship,
and lies that you are not alone.

Twenty lies in a pack of smoke
and twenty friends that slay you.
Walk away.
Turn around.
Face the feeling .
Cold blood running thick
tries to pump a useless heart.
Get up. Open your eyes.
Free the breath of life.

Smell the flower,
blow out the candle,
breath the air that warms your heart.

Turn around.  Life still stands before you.
the days left remains unknown.
In the dawn of a new day the end is near,
and still your friends are calling.

9:42 AM - 14 Comments - 24 Kudos - Add Comment

Ocean’s Awe
Current mood: calm
Category: Writing and Poetry

Ocean's Awe

On this day, come what may,
I'm close enough to feel.
I'm in the colors of the sea,
my presense is sureal.

Stand among the crashing waves
White Stars of Bethlehem
Feel the love I send to you,
in spirit is where I am.

So close your eyes, make a wish
may all your dreams come true,
look around, hear the sound,
I'm in spirit dressed in blue.

(C) January 17, 2008 - Leslie Jean Glass
Copyright All Rights Reserved

8:21 PM - 17 Comments - 28 Kudos - Add Comment

I did it.
Current mood: On the right track in life.
Category: On the right track in life. Blogging

I really did it.  I imagined that I could, but never believed that I would.  I changed everything in my life.  Hardly anything remains the same anymore.  It started with a thought.

My hands are swollen.  They are covered in cuts, nicks, and scrapes.  My beautiful acrylic nails, gone.  No longer painted a deep wine, but cut to the quick.

My feet are like the grit of sand.  They are no longer pedicured.  They are embeded in grime, rough to the touch, and calloused.  They ache, but every step I take, takes me a step further into the future that I call my own.

My back screams out in protest, begging me not to lift another box, scrub another floor, or carry another load up or down the stairs.  Each day it becomes stronger, though it weeps out in pain.

I live in my own house now.  I am one among many to call this place home.  My name is on its abstract that dates back to 1839.  My home outnumbers me by five years, and its history I have yet to read.

Gotlieb and Godfrey now sit on my brick pillars to chase away the evil spirits with their bared teeth and wings in flight.  I take them in at night so they don't get stolen.  I'm sure the neighbors must think I am the new Mortisha.  Around here Gargoyles aren't in style. 

Next door the neighbor's fight.  At least it sounds like they do.  They talk to each other in raised and angry voices.  I hear them fighting.  Their windows are all open and they drink a lot.  I met the woman the day I moved in.  She was drunk.  She told me she lost their daughter a few months back.  Her daughter's name was Leslie, and she was fifteen.  Yesterday when I took out the garbage, I heard her say to him, "I want to visit Leslie's gravestone."  It felt weird to hear that.

In the mornings I sit out on my deck.  It is on the east where the sun rises.  Though it is cold and I can see my breath, bundled in a down comforter, I am warm.  I sit and ponder my next move.  I look out to the back and imagine the garage that I will build in a few weeks.  It will sit at the edge of my property, and it will be surrounded by native grasses and forbes that I have planted with my own two hands. 

Though my hands are swollen, my feet calloused, and my back is aching, I know that whatever I can imagine, I can make it come true, because I believe that I can, and I have.

3:32 AM - 18 Comments - 35 Kudos - Add Comment

Midnight Rain
Category: Writing and Poetry

Midnight Rain

He walked down from the mountain at midnight,
feeling older than he ever felt before.
The rumble of thunder rolled across the sky,
as he wiped sweat from his brow and a tear from his eye.

The night was hot and smokey, filled with cinder and ash.
The ground was hard and cold under his aching back.
In the smoke-filled haze he fell hard into a deep and restless sleep,
so deep that he didn't hear the sound.

The raindrops fell that night.  They came crashing to the ground.
They filled the creeks and dried up riverbeds and tumbled to the sea.
They laughed and danced in sacred chants, their Lord had set them free.

The night was hot and sultry, and the air was thick and still.
Her crisp white sheets lay crumpled on the floor,
and the thunder rumbled in the distance.
As she fell into the darkest night, she wiped away a tear,
and prayed for him no pain, keep him safe, and let it rain.

Falling hard into the restless night, she didn't hear the sound,
the sound of raindrops falling, as they danced upon the ground.

(this piece is in progress and not yet complete)

(c) Leslie Glass - August 27, 2007

4:33 AM - 13 Comments - 28 Kudos - Add Comment

Sweetwater Ridge
Current mood: Thankful
Category: Thankful Writing and Poetry

Sweetwater Ridge

My mind it walks to Sweetwater Ridge,
stops and dallies upon The Bridge.
Dropped stones fall into the blue,
in rough waters swirling, I think of you.

She walks upon the stony road,
for to help you carry your load.
Her spirit wonders through the trees,
hair blowing with the breeze,

throwing thoughts of love and light,
and whispering wishes into the night.
Takes a turn along the way,
to follow the streambed to the bay,

And Fairies dance upon her hand,
in a place, where water meets land.
Free and wild, she's hindered not
your kindred spirit not forgot.

Stars harmonize full moon,
the lillies dance and lovers croon.
She softly steps upon the sand,
to waters edge gives rising hand.

Raise up her spirit to promised land
on Sweetwater Ridge she does stand.

(c) August 18, 2007 - Leslie Jean Glass

7:32 AM - 9 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

Black Canyon Road
Current mood: weary
Category: weary Writing and Poetry

Black Canyon Road

Dark as night, this Black Canyon Road,
leads nowhere, as you carry the load.
The sun is obscured, and the birds can't sing,
in death surrounded,  can't feel a thing.

Days go by, and shadows grow cold,
nights are hot, and you feel so old.
Remember a time when the sky was bright,
said to yourself, there's an end in sight.

Until the time, you step off the track,
keep on walking, don't look back.

Day grows short and night is long,
once again you'll hear her song,
under sky of  blue, meadowlark sings,
daisies dance in the rain she brings.

© Copyright August 2, 2007  Leslie Jean Glass

4:33 AM - 25 Comments - 26 Kudos - Add Comment

Relection On Eagle's Wings
Category: Writing and Poetry

My spirit is struggling.  I think of the wounded eagle that I wrote of in my blog "On Eagle's Wings".  I try to reflect upon her.  Unlike her, I have been spiraling out of control.  The ground comes closer to scattering my feathers each day, ending the flight.  The high of being unteathered and free is gone.  It has been replaced with a knowledge that I have been a fool to not realize that what I had was enough, what I had was more than I had right to ever wish for.  There are so many things I wish to say, wish to ask, wish to write, wish to make real again, and wish to take back.  My pen lays silent.  My spirit has faded translucent, her voice is barely audible, it is less than a whisper.  She doesn't speak to me any more.  Maybe I have forgotten how to listen.

7:41 AM - 9 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

In the Distance
Category: Writing and Poetry

In the Distance

In the distance
     wayward son
            step by step you travel on…

Wings of  blackbirds
      fill the sky,
            crackling embers never die…

In a fortnight
      days are lost,
             forever wonder what the cost…

Follow visions
      find your way,
            the rain will come another day…

Seek a fortune,
      skin a hide,
            daisy petals drift aside…

On a windblown
      northern night,
            the lambs are trembling, out of fright…

Hark the darkened
      shadows bring,
            another day the angel sings…

© Leslie Glass – July 7, 2007 – All rights reserved.

7:01 AM - 9 Comments - 16 Kudos - Add Comment