poetry

Quarterpoint The backbone of ecstatic joyis excruciating pain,the kind that requires the windto breathe for youso your lungs can functionfilled with synchronized airgently moving your awakening 2 Corinthians 12:9“I” ‘And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee:for my strength is made perfect in weakness’ to take the solo standawed by the connectivityof […]

December Beach I came to the beach todaystrong and clearon this December daythat brought me hereinviting me to recallthe struggles of my falland how with courage I stoodon steady feet not knowing if I coulduntil I heard the seagull’s raucous crylike a bugle sounding pain’s releasethen took a breath of air and let my soul

Looking Over A Ladybug We are on desert timewhere hours fly gentlylike hummingbirds gliding,amusing ourselveswatching playful cottontailsdarting in and out of bushy brush,sunsets dripping in liquid gold,the tranquil repose of the moon. It is herein Augustwhere we melt our griefin sauna heatlooking over a ladybugto see the future. Linda Joy Walder (dedicated to my cherished

There Comes A Time There comes a timeto recoverto throw down the swords that have cut youto view the wounds as emblemshonoring your resilienceand to take all that you have learned and discoveredto live your best lifeto open your soulto love with every fiber of your powerforgiving the failures of others forgiving yourself too Linda Joy Walder

Reflection The dreams,they wake you upfrom dreary days in bedwhen it is an effort to sip wateror eat a crust of bread. The changes,they unfold in chapters livedbecoming stories you tellbut no longercan rely upon for accuracy. The realizations,they happen graduallythen suddenly fall from the cloudsraining lightly upon your bodyuntil the sun fills you. The

Love Love is limitless,unconfined by time and space,invisibly known. Linda Joy Walder Ride the wave of creativity and get Linda’s latest news LEARN MORE Have a question? Want to send me a message?

Reggie This is my suitcase Reggie,I will stuff him withstilettos and sweatshirtsbecause I am going to Romeand I need to be stylishwhilst eating gorgeous pastain front of the Pantheon. Perhaps, in a crisis of joyI will switch directionsbecause I always dreamed of waltzingon a balmy Madagascar eveningunder the constellation Herculesin the arms of an actual

Antipathy I’ve come to stay and never leaveuntil little pecking birds gatherand sing in a funeral chorus by the seafor mebut youyou leave everydaywithout a worddeserting your purposein the name of freedoma prisonershackled by hypocrisyincapable of faithfulnessan old foolish manhanging onto a life raft Linda Joy Walder Ride the wave of creativity and get Linda’s

Counting On It I no longer have the willfor my arm to strugglein search of a jacket sleeve.instead, I will hold a sweatshirtover my head and gently pullallowing the fleece-lined clothto linger over my shouldersthen cover me.my hair will get tussled but I do not mind,that is easy mess.it is the difficult messinessI cannot take

Death on Earth Child feet know the textures of the earthlush and rich like creamy pudding orhot sand after a desert wind storm ordewey morning grass. Purveyors and pursuers of landsavor the layersshoelessly experiencingthe depth and beauty of each granularabsorbing the utter complexity. Dwellers get bogged down in bulky rockyielding to the density of soilsunk in