I See You

I see you in the purest form when sitting at a traffic light.

I see you in the mother cooing at her baby as she waits for the bus to come.  

I see you in the rays of sunlight stabbing the earth with warmth.  

I see you in the child staring at the trees.  

I see you in the person taking up spare change on the corner.  

I see you in the mirror when I look deep in my eyes.  

I see you in the best of myself, when I am at my worst. 

I see you in the struggle when all else is stripped away.

I feel you in the depths of my soul, a comfort on my lonely way.

I need you to be in all these places.  

Knowing this, you wait for me there.

Quintessence

Here.

look in here

it's simple -

stop thinking

stop feeling

come near

it's plain as day

it's clear as rain

let go

it's simple

pure and unprofaned.

Mine

hide It

take It out when no one is here

see It

feel It

hold It close, for It's dear

It wants to get out

It wants to be known

It knows not the cruelty It would be shown

hide It

shelter It

keep It safe

from exposition there's no escape

once out Its lost

not seen as true

once seen Its changed

then hope is through

naive, Its safe

unseen, Its sound

in perpetual waiting

Its self is bound

Disconsolate

Time flies by

you laugh

you cry

it flies on by

merciless cycle

onward marches

speeding faster.

The Reaper always gets exactly what he's after.

The Refuge of The Poet

How long since I sat outside,
in the open air,
alone?

What has passed since I gazed
upon wisps of vapor gliding across
the blue above?

What have my eyes witnessed
since they last absorbed the contrast
of sun and shadow
under the living canopy?

How long since I saw the glint of the light
reflected off the waters?

Longer still since
I was alone with the air
in intimate bliss.

Where have I been
all this time?

Have I remained tucked away
in the back of my mind?

Sheltered from the scorn of
my fellow man.

Listening for peace.

I emerge and become acquainted
with myself again,
as time and chance allow.

An Hour, A Memory

I had an hour like

a painting today

a work of Art in every way

each dappled shadow

each laughing boy

filled my cup to the brim

with immeasurable joy

air like silk

flowed through balmy shade

of simple pleasures, my life is made

In Love

I’m in love with the day
I’m drunk with the sun

high on the breeze
I sing with the birds
I dance with the trees

my heart has been won
infatuation complete
I desire no roof
no floor for my feet

the fragrance of Earth
such glorious musk

so in love with this day
I stay out past the dusk

my passion awakened
as night’s curtain falls
expanse like black velvet
stars shine - darkness calls

hold me, dear Earth
feed me and nourish
it’s in Her arms only
my soul may flourish

all that I need, all I desire
is here for my pleasure
sun’s glory, night’s fire

untitled

The sky is blue

Cheaha Mountain, by Pamela Todd

the sky is black
the damp air's heavy
on my back
the wind blows softly
the trees gently sway
the growing darkness
ends the day
crickets chirp their
flawless song
to you - to me
all twilight long
breathe in
breath out
in perfect rhyme
this is the place
this is the time
now is when
I am my best
my heart pounds
a rhythm beneath
my breast

I look skyward from 

my place on earth

I question not 

my own self worth

here I am

I am here

that's enough 

for me - my dear

the wind blows softly
the trees gently sway
the growing darkness ends the day.

This pain that I used
to know
buried so deep inside,

has found a new escape
from where
it used to hide,

with roots in
pain and anguish
sprouts the tiny tree,

whose branches
block the light,
and make it hard to see,

no more the sunny rays
of hope and trust
naive

now flocks of
hateful birds land
in branches of that tree,

I feel, and feel,
and feel -  pain
and loss - unkind

I cry aloud to God -
He answers
in my mind,

the smallest wisp
of strength,

takes root inside
my soul,

take up the axe
and grind it, 

 cut the branches
the trunk - take control.

Fly away
hateful birds,

this land is mine -
not yours

burn the timber of that tree -

warm my soul.

I'm free.

Camelia

How rich and heavy blooms..

Filled with sweet perfume..

Abundant petals pool and pile..

Beneath your branches all the while.

Buds emerge and flowers fall.

A sweet cascade of color all.

Dark green your leaves,

And firm your bark.

To these blooms the bees do hark.

So lovely, fragrant southern flower..

Grace and beauty in every hour.  

Hidden Treasure

we mourn the loss of things

little do we know

that in the loss of these

greater things may grow

the time and tides of life

bring joys but also strife

if this current we should fight

our place can not be right

Once

once upon a dream

I thought I heard you

in the hall

I rose to look

saw you not

nothing there at all

searched through every corner

looked behind each door

looked inside the closets

paced and walked the floor

how could you not be here

so terribly unfair

how could you not be here

when you are everywhere

Sorrow

Oh! Sorrow, Sorrow, little boy, 

Who cries so hard for his lost toy!

A Different Kind of Suicide

I stare into darkness, Thinking of you.

I wonder, was leaving the Right thing to do?

I stare into nothing afraid And alone.

My only wish is that I can Go home.

I stare into darkness, not afraid anymore,

As the angel of loneliness knocks on my door.

I welcome it in.

I realize I'm crying.

Inside my soul a part of me's dying.

Only the memories linger inside.

This is a different kind of suicide.

Pamela

See me?

Look Closer.

What Do you see?

Do you see who I am?

Who you want me to be?

Do you see something bad?

Do you see something good?

Is the line between both to be understood?

Who am I?

A person, a child, a mother..

A dreamer, a poet, a woman, a lover...

We all are much more than at first we may seem.

We all need to love.

We all need to dream.