Songs and Poems

Darkness

Uneven ... the glow
a glow ... supposed
a tool shown to mystery guests
and traveling pests.
Unraveled in harvested moons
your tunes
wrestled tunes
yet oh ... my captured wounds.
I wrap them around cellophane hearts
a tour ... be proud
somehow lost in a crowd
glasses high
toast to the note-cards
that sort out my mind against hypocrisies
I sort out my mind ... in the end

PS
There are days of unregistered rhymes
and they seem to be advancing upon undying darkness

What changes us?

What makes us decide 'one day'.... that 'this day' we will do better?

'This day' we will smile on everything as if we were seeing it for the first time.
'This day' we will take time out for our own selves.
'This day' we will climb that emotional mountain that seemed inconceivable 'yesterday'.
'This day' we 'will' do what we had only 'hoped' we would do 'before'.< /p>

'This day' we will FLY.

BE PROUD!

Now

I seem to have new pathways to assemble.
The steam reaches out and irons out the discontentment of time.
I step past memories and longings and reach out.
Life is unclear
impossible to be real.
Days go by and I find myself in a new reality,
a reality of happy.
You lend me the fragrance of freedom,
the air of pause,
in the water and substance there is a tranquility I have never known.
My soldier of old,
my lament,
I am always so afraid they'll take you from me.
I dare not completely touch today
or sleep and find you gone,
and learn you have never been with me at all.
So I smile on the pathway
maneuver my continence.
I cannot live in the shadow of regret
and not see what is right there in front of me.
This spirit being now and present, not meant to be over analyzed.
There are doors belonging to freedom
and t hey all have special handles.
I can decorate them, understand them, hold them, charm them,
or let them go.

Tiny Remains

Unconnected thoughts that ring in much decay,
where the survivors scramble and tears never end.
Emotions run high and moods decide,
generosity is a cure for strangers,
but you and I..... divide into equal parts,
and squabble over tiny remains.

Sunsets

She travels with magic on a mystical ride.
She walks in the moonlight
and covers my mind.
She travels the road down past the pines,
where the mist meets the morning
'fore the river turns ice.

We gather up petals
from the flowers that have died.
She travels with magic
on a mystical ride,
pointing out sunsets
and ponies to ride.
So just see how it goes
how the magic unfolds
how the children you've known
lend out sea covered rhymes
still fasting
but no longer cold.

Autumn Has Seasoned Me Well

Content to be understood in a casual way and yet...

He was a most attentive healer.
Every space and corner he defined in me.
I so tastefully wore a crown.
No one around.
Stayed and stayed...
he remembered he had not seen me in full bloom.
All things considered I should have waited to hear the rest,
but patients gathered in the hallways,
wounds too deep to mind.
Who can contend with such a lover?
At least I know that I don't heal well.
There were reprieves I had not considered,
but Autumn...
Autumn has seasoned me well.

Break Not Your Heart

a song:

1)
There will be times
and treasures I've known,
there will be rivers
melted with snow.

2)
There will be dreams
attached to autumn leaves,
there will be springtime
and reasons to flee.

Chorus:
And break not your heart
hold back the wound s
however inflicted
they were not meant for you.

3)
There will be seas
only airplanes and ships adorn
there will be silence
for a sorrow too worn.

4)
There will be sighs
as the ruler points wrong
yet... there will be comfort
in the rainbow of song.

Chorus

Break:
Time passes by
I plot to hear you call
and yet I know why
and have accepted it all.

Chorus

Reality

a song:

Magic motions used to set my soul ablaze,
until I noticed in the most spectacular form
that little heartbeats
are most easily swayed
and had most certainly swayed me.
My only restitutions being
the crudeness of reality.
A springboard to what I thought would be
the very end of me
turned out to be
the very depths of me.
Oh... unkind blow
vexation of my heart
the knife that penetrated ever so deeply
gave me reality.

Befor e We Go

(a poem for Diana and Robert)

The heros of selfish wounds
owned by summer
not forgotten by fall.
As silent as glances
down a long dark hall.
Their end is as painful as their deed,
chosen so hastily.
There are looks I'd like to share,
silences I would treasure.
There are smiles I'd like to say
silenced now forever.
Their children picked flowers at the neighbors
running across the street saying,
Before we go, before we go. Heros are owned by children,
if they choose to remember them that way.

The Hero Wore Black

The hero wore black.
The echo bore gifts,
and no one knows
the broken hope
as much as you and I.
Shadows dancing
in the dark.
The honorable heartbeat
in the chest.
Do you know I hope for you?
Save hope for you?

Miles Away

a song:

Chorus: It rains miles away, miles and miles away
It rains miles a way, miles and miles away

1)
I don't want to steal your dreams away.
I don't want my presence to intrude...
on you.
I used a compass to find this place.
I used the moon to guide me through
your moods.
You say...
you're only miles away.

2)
She smiled and said, Well yes I know,
there's an element that seems to grow,
in all of us.
I think you've learned
to talk very far.
You give the feeling that your sorrow never ends,
but it's not as if the rain didn't fall here too,
when it fell on you.

Chorus

3)
There is an element of conscience,
that keeps blowing thru cool winds,
and I think if you don't stop to listen,
I might lose before I win.
New things are hard to handle.
It's unclear of what's to gain,
But after all
its' like you say
you're only miles away.

Chorus

About Me Kathy Ostman-Magnusen Hawaii, United States

Aloha! I am a figurative Artist and Illustrator. If you check out my website you will see that I am very prolific in Oils. My paintings are collected worldwide. I also do sculpture; images available upon request. I have illustrated for Hay House Inc. , Neil Davidson, who was considered for the Pulitzer Prize in feature writing, and several other publications. I also enjoy story writing and poetry. All of the paintings,stories and poems on my site and blogs are written by me. Website: http://www.kathysart.com and one of my blogs: http://kathysart.blogspot.com/ Aloha!

Author:: Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
Keywords:: mermaid baby, passion series, art Kathy Ostman Magnusen,African Series,Hawaiian Legacy,Artist, Oils
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