*
things cluttered
I move them around
just a bit as to call them
to make a list of prisoners
to make them feel less
lonely as my mind
speaks to them
their language
.
.
Nov3
Tag Archives: diary
Oct1
My Feelings
*
my feelings this time
don’t want to stay on
paper or even reach it
there’s is a modesty
to them as they rise
from my aging family
I move from pangs
of anxious pain to
serenity as giving
honor to vulnerability
brought forth a new
sweetness to be
savored alone
.
.
.
Jun5
Adding Notes
*
I didn’t dislike
school most days
yet I was anxious
each day to go home
to have lunch while
reading – to then take a small
break after the meal – under
the sun on the balcony
reading again underlining
my dreams to come
adding notes to my
future days
.
.
.
.
Jul31
Not Rosaries Nor Missals – The Look Of My Soul – July 2015
*
in between loving cats
and feeding elders
roaming paths
it was the caressing
with my eyes of the olive
trees barks twisted by
the winds and the lack
of water is that the look
my soul has she had no
idea life was business
to attend same the church
and the cats and the elderly
.
.
.
.
.
“Not Rosaries Nor Missals” is a collections of poems started on July 2013. The poems, about a spiritual journey, have the habit to pop up here, for a maximum count of seven, in July of each year. The older poems of the collection can be found and read using the search window.
.
.
.
Jun23
Nights From The California Notebooks 2015
*
the perfumes of night
wash away sadness
tiredness when doubts
crowds between brows
as swiftly as they may
sure go deep down
inside we know senses
know better indeed
roaring thoughts
are light a flap
or two
to take us
higher away
embrace me now
.
.
.
.
.
Apr22
California Notebooks, 2014
*
it is so
that every morning
I go about pressing the foot
on the same path that’s how
habits are formed good ones
.
I’ve learned in between
steps to make treasure of
observation new revelations
as they come blossoms
in presence
.
.
. . 
.
.
Nov23
California Notebooks, Sept. 2013
*
the olive tree startles me
young with eucalyptus
trunks almost unsure
missing identity
.
branches to the winds
folded here and there not distant
from the ancient ones knotted
.
trunks strong and twisted
before the palm trees
and the cactuses
.
.
Oct2
California Notebooks, Sept. 2013
*
the day drifted away
as water in a brooklet
swift and eager to reach
the valley where
I don’t care
to be
.
I wish it would have moved
as a rosary in my hand
slowly slacking down at
the rhythm of each prayer
.
loitering on the light’s hues
and warm shades on beguilement
I sense I’ve done too much
and nothing as well
.
fancying to grab you head to tail
breathing my excuses
as I start all over
.
.
annamosca 