unsan musho

definition: scattered clouds, disappearing mist
meaning: disappear without a trace

what of the circlets spinning in the pond?

where have the ripples made their way, gone?

tunes steeling away fleeting melody songs

when we left all our words unspoken

what of the tabby cats lapping their drink?

where have the soft little paws last tread?

dreams spiriting into our canopy beds

where we last dreamt of our promises

what of the sweetened and upturning lips?

where have the stories fallen to rest?

scenes floating past as the landscapes blur

while we become who we are or were

unsan musho

© kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

let's reside for just a while

in tall grass fields exposing sound

while hearts are pounding, making songs

and wind is whistling through on eves

for moons to rise and suns to fall

because we cannot catch them all

surely there are aging trees

to track the time and keep the peace

when movement is too quick for pause

and all the lines are blurred again

we fill our lungs with clarity

and promises of verity

for our sakes, keep us as we are

impossible film | apart of our surroundings
© kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

I recall when we were small

and time went by so fleetingly

with flashlight beams beneath our sheets

and story-telling into dreams

Every November, I remember

sharing a birthday month with you

theme-party planning over Halloween candy

and being so silly and free

How I miss the childhood bliss

imagination, a state of being

while never-ending play-pretending

was found and stayed and came to be

 

a ditty for my big sister, stephanie "blue roses" komashin
on her birthday (based on Japan's time zone)
© kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

 warming weather, leave us be

for overcasted mountain scapes

that bring on more inspired thoughts

and lift the gaze to whispered ways

 until it's cold enough to breathe

and build our fires for heaven's sake!

iphone | environmental self - hermonville, france
© kimberly k. taylor-pestell, all rights reserved

stormy calm and peaceful fury
resounding lighter than I see
with harpsichord and handbell tones
in fast-paced wonderings

  

iPhone 5, instagram | lightsprings

© kimberly k. taylor pestell, all rights reserved

standing here, standing

I have been remiss.  I had so many lovely things to post here.  Beloved photographs from the holidays, news of wedding plans, retellings of Art Socials.  Now January is coming to a close and I have not stopped, even for a mere moment, to write.  And it feels sad.  So, I suppose I will just have to post belateds because they deserve to be posted, even if they are tardy.

I am standing here, standing

Above cracking streams

Awaiting the breaking of ice-capping sleeves

Wondering whether the risk is a risk

Aligning myself to the surest of seams

Yesterday, was my beloved friend, Kiichiro's, birthday... He would have been thirty-seven years old.  The reminder popped up on my Facebook notifications and there was his picture with his two beautiful little boys, Shuntaro and Eitaro.  And everything welled up and felt uneven.  So beautiful a life touched so many and we will never be the same as we were before.  We will always be better.  Better than before we knew him.



{canon 30d:  whether the risk is a risk}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

ode and mere

dear you:

thursday feels like friday

only friday isn't here

and wheresoever

eyes are flitting

chance is simply mere

{impossible film:  ode to a chair}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

naught insistence

expectantly, await

for lights to brighten

wasted way's

insistence

tainting sights to greys

instead of hovering

just above

trefoils'

golden rays

{impossible film:  come, let us walk in garden and make the sun go down}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

rememory

Fog by Carl Sandburg

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.

This morning came with fog and it was welcome.  I walked across campus and everything from the neck up was shrouded in a layer of mist.  A subtle, sweet flavor in every inhale and cold, gentle tingles in my eyes with every blink.  Whenever fog arrives, I remember the poem Stephanie showed to me when we were children.  Its impression has stuck around a good fifteen years or so since, and I was reluctant to go inside and start my work day, knowing that it would be gone by the time I returned.

 

 

{polaroid: dividing the sky}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

time

hungry for

unseen places and wind-whipped hair

and doorways and windows and skylines

with peacemaking and hand holding

and pathways and stations for trains

 

{canon 30 d : let me come, too - the huntington, san marino}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

somes

Some-times alive to be

Some-wheres so far from me

Some-places keenly seen

Some-ones who might have been

{lumix : pressing to speak, the plaka in greece}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

of promisory sort

 

i don't suppose

its heavenly

to rest upon the likes of us

and fester in our brewing state

forgetting to regurgitate

the thoughts we're holding back

 from you

remorseful when

its past the time

to let old scars be plucked clear off

and muster up courageous speech

resenting every darkened leech

when bleeding first began

to stain

perchance there be

a melody

that reaches us, within our minds

with notes of promissory sort

resist the urge to scream, "abort!"

and opt, instead, for love

in truth

{polaroid : and bathing in our filth}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

just for a little while

i want to find a big black pool

and slip away, unseen for a while

and resurface again

once things have settled

down, down in my head



{polaroid : endescend}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

no room for waiting

many things are in my head

and on my list

of things i need

not commonly, but due dates past

roughly, scratching

clarity

with which to fill my glass

captured light, let's check it twice

in case it got

away from me

so nimbley and so dimming, fast

crumpled, yellow

leaf-a-let

in hallways, still i pass

{lumix : no room for waiting and telling yourself again, doesn't always clarify}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

everly

dearly,

i would remember it

the way the light would climb

upwards, inwards

soaking in and seeping through

until it felt like all was clean and good again

for me and you and you

with old, decrepid memories

for building strengthened cornerstones

and dreaming futher than (it's true)

we ever went before

{lumix : somewhence, the plaka, greece}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

uplooking

sweet swinging, above and out

grant their voices room

to bounce around the corners

and echo down the halls

sweet singing, away and up

grant their voices air

to coast along on currents

and leave their wake through walls

{canon powershot: seattle rail}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

April, please be kindly

in being drained

perhaps
all the toxins will drain away
along
with everything else

and leave me clear and clean and 'plenished

with april promises

to be good to me

or at least, i be true to them



{canon 30d:  a Fair night}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

sometimes light

sometimes light

will trickle down

encasing all our

lowly face expressions

and show us who we are

such light will stay

until we turn, until we shift

and lift our souls

to brandish light ourselves

{polaroid:  oh, to be a vine}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

prone to catch on

hardness falls as
light grows dim
and life within will
crumble still

fight not flight we
rise to lift
with stronger love 'till
we refill

no giving up
ever again

It has been hard lately, but people who love me notice and the strength returns and I keep on keeping on.  And I have seen hope for it, too.  Beloveds have sent me hope on freeing wings and with gentle touches and it is prone to catch on, I think.

{canon 30d:  tearlight}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved

let us be brave enough

corrugated pastimes.

we trace the grooves and balance on barriers until,

it is possible to change the pattern and end the monotony.



{polaroid:  comfort in outline is suitable, but let us be brave enough to break from the pattern}

© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved