Posted in Beginnings...

Perfect, As We Are

A more perfect acceptance of oneself may rarely be found mixed with a simplicity of desire. Beautiful!!

Antony Ros

I want, to write a song
That would blow the clouds away
Let the sun warm the ground were we would lay
To watch the stars appear
Behind a full moons stare

I want, to paint a canvass
Covered in blue on blue
Where the sea meets the sky
Birds playfully dip and dive
And nothing else matters but you and I

I want, to sing with a voice
That would echo feelings of joy
To innocently say, boy oh boy
Gosh, golly gee, isn’t that pretty
Without being labeled a sissy

I want, to build a home with my hands
A place to call my own
Where the door swings open
And guests are always welcome
As simple as sharing a coffee

I want, to live happy with my heart
Writing bits of poetry
Burning the herb slowly
Dreaming of touching
Another persons heart, lovingly

I want, to die…

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Posted in In Dedication..., Poems - A Collection of Expressions

Most Important

This creation is in dedication to my Best Friend, who has been my strength and my salvation and my companion for 17 long years. Through all my craziness and the illogicality of my youth. Through the pain of heartbreak and the weirdness of life. Through the quintessential thicks and thins. I have had him to fall back on. He has always been there. He truly is my own personal blessing. God Bless!



It is true I am hiding

Or trying to

From the only arms that can comfort me.

The only voice that gives me reason.

The only heart I wholly trust.


It is not without regret

Or even pain

That I choose to stand away.

That I choose to let go.

That I choose me.


But all it really takes is

A single conversation

To bring me back to myself.

And it tells me so many things.

Most important being, that I do not have to be afraid.


At all.


© Ruth P. – 2016

No part of this work may be reproduced.

Posted in Poems - A Collection of Expressions

Dweller on the Hilltop

Out of breath I rise

The hilltop beckons

Warmth ‘neath open skies.


Curious whispers sound

Brushing close, playful

Silent laughter personified.


I catch my breath

It is given to me

An offering pure and light.


Strong I stand

Buffeted about within

A euphoric rush of senses.


© Ruth P. – 2016

No part of this work may be reproduced.

Posted in Beginnings...

Ashes to Ashes

Powerful and shocking. Be sure to read it thrice.

Antony Ros



i am worthy


the lord is my Shepard


i will be free, watch and see…

I kneel in Your light, I do not see
I yearn for Your love, I do not feel
I pray this once, this night to set me free
I ask for Your forgiveness, divine is what they say
I do not need an answer, for believing is the only way
I give my life, in the name of the Father
His to keep
ashes to ashes


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Posted in Poems - A Collection of Expressions, The Wandering Mind

Through the Looking-Box

Ten years of drawer space fits inside a box,

I slot it all neatly, edge to edge

The pockets of empty space in between

Filled in with the left-overs of dusty recollections.

Sitting on my bed in the center of my room,

Watching the pieces of my life coming together,

I feel myself float away;

The spinning fan my perfect counterpart.

Fluorescent lights illuminate every corner,

Blank walls glare harshly back at me,

Questioning their lack of adornment,

The loss of their finery.

But I myself am numb, as I watch everything be removed

To the same brown packages from which

A colorful life had once exploded

Onto the walls of this once-home.


Is this what Life amounts to?


Look at those memories so neatly packed away,

A different sort of Occlumency;

Hidden, however, even from myself.

Washed up, perhaps, on the shores of my subconscious,

The detritus of my life, bobbing in the shallows,

Driftwood, shells, and shifting sands are all that remain

Links to fragments of memories,

Now locked away.

Echoes inhabit my room now

Shouting back at me even my softest whispers,

I make my escape; from looking out to looking in,

Momentarily free, before being boxed up again.


© Ruth P. – 2016

No part of this work may be reproduced.

Posted in Poems - A Collection of Expressions

Elpis – When Belief brings Hurt

Hope is a double edged sword.

Like finding an oasis in a mirage,

And filling your mouth with burning sand,

Choking on grit and blisters here,

While the waters you seek,

Are just over the next hill.


So much for endurance;

It isn’t for lack of trying,

Or wishing, or crying, or sighing,

Or gazing down empty roads for signs

That have never once appeared in 15 years,

Nor will again – not after this.


Chemistry is a weak glue,

For things that are precious,

Tangible, Irreplaceable, Unchangeable,

‘Bought if broken’, isn’t that the tag?

But only for commercial objects,

Not for priceless hearts, chipped and cracked.


Perhaps one might have Hope,

If hope were clearly encouraged;

Carefully gathered and poured into a receptacle

Like sun-baked jars or Pandora’s Box,

Waiting to stand the test of time;

Until undone by one’s own hand.


© Ruth P. – 2016

No part of this work may be reproduced.

Posted in Beginnings...

In the Beginning

Simple, enduring, prophetic. A worthy Herald to a beautiful past.


Æons ago, when Gaia was very young, her birth song sung,
Wild beauty with mild peace wrapped her like a cloak,
Her heart the yolk of new life with few battles to fight;
Night was gentle, light warm and penetrating oceans deep
To embryonic keep, where there reigned genial cooperation
In symbiotic evolution, not quixotic or chaotic, rather
Guided by an unseen, gentle hand as if it were planned
But with no demand on the fetal growth in Gaia’s womb…
In the beginning.

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Posted in Being True, Poems - A Collection of Expressions

Living with Regret



It is the splinter under the flesh

The thorn that bites the heel

The speck in the eyes that one cannot see.


A pinching hollow darkness

That breeds nightmarish dreams

Born of normal ones, but twisted at the seams.


The cause is immaterial,

Be it false or just,

The effect is the same; a harsh breach of trust.


Perhaps there is a chance

In the offer of forgiveness

But damned is the soul that agrees to that perspective.


For memory allows no retraction

Of words, from thought or speech

Salvation seems a poor joke while bound to punishment’s leash.


© Ruth P. – 2016

No part of this work may be reproduced.