Inspiration comes in fits and spurts, laced with time, warmed with the heart. Each of my offerings began with a whisper, a pause to see, hear, and reflect.
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Calls from Above
I hear your calls or are they pleas?
Meet me at the Oatmeal Cloud
It’s time to share a cup of tea
Or make your latte, as you choose.
Your star flickers, a dim shadow
Don’t waver with your projects
Your unending desire for change
The time has come to leave
I await you as I promised
Arms wide, a cartoon hug
Ready to embrace your remains
I promise to be more gentle
More storms will come
A rainbow or two
Why stay when I’m up here?
Who holds you tethered?
My answer is simple
Hope is a gift of the living
I’ll stay till the young one’s sing
Voices strong to the Heavens
Youth, my tulips of spring
Lying in wait, to blossom
With new energy
I’ll rise in my own good time.
Dreams
I dreamt the impossible
Keen visions of a life enveloped
In wisdom
Aged like wine
Unstoppable
Savored lips, seldom sipped
Slim fortunes developed
Skies the limit
Giddy clouds of soul’s spirit.
Treasures of Inspiration
Nuggets picked up along the way
Mental pockets of visions.
The glimmer of water droplets on a spider’s web
The doe eyes of a deer mesmerized at my presence
The sound of frogs croaking in unison
The fringes of an unfurling fern frond
The white crown of an eagle soaring
The flat stone that fits in my palm
The mornings hush
The evenings calm
Pockets filled with the days wishes.
What is Left of My Childhood?
The quiet child
Ready to smile
The studious worrier
Adventure warrior
The reader
Now writer
Walks along worn paths
Nostalgia mixed with wrath
A collector of solitude
Bolstered with fortitude
Decision maker
Heartbreaker
The quiet child
Gone wild
Contemplates the stars
Eyes twinkle past scars
Remnants stitched
Silver bewitched
Moon beams understood
Childhood to Adulthood
In Wonderland
I stare off into the distance
I travel
down the rabbit hole
Of pondering
Of questioning
If I’m looking for sense
I fail
If I’m looking for wonder
I succeed
The larger I am
The less I see
The smaller I become
The world grows
Ants are my equal
Towering trees my monolith
Which perspective
Reveals the truth.
Afraid of Afraid
Layered to cover the inside core
A blanket neatly tucked in over uncomfortable truths
Below the surface fear hums
Drives one to do more
Cover more
As if to banish.
Fear has nothing to do with accomplishments
Fear speaks out loud to weaknesses that make one strong.
Fear must be a friend
A whisperer of personal truths
A reminder that danger lurks not only in the dark
But in speaking face to face.
Avoidance is fear’s maintainer
Seize the moment
Connect.
About Abbe
Abbe Rolnick grew up in the suburbs of Baltimore, Maryland. Her first major cultural jolt occurred at age 15 when her family moved to Miami Beach, Florida. To find perspective, she climbed the only non-palm tree at her condo complex and wrote what she observed. History came alive with her exposure to Cuban culture. After attending Boston University, she lived in Puerto Rico, where she owned a bookstore. Once Stateside, she capitalized on the knowledge she gained as an independent bookstore owner and worked for one of the finest bookstores, Village Books, in Bellingham, Washington. Once a CEO of a manufacturing firm and owner of a healthy foods café, she is now retired and spends her time writing.
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Many photos on this site and in Abbe’s Notes are copyright by Jim Wiggins.
