Everyone and anyone who comes in contact with a child is minding the store. That child is in your hands. You are responsible. Every single thing counts. Love or hate. Acceptance or rejection. Attention or indifference. Everything becomes a part of them. You, having been a child, knows this is true. You remember the words and the people. It made a difference if you were shown love or respect. Stop putting children down. Stop making them feel unworthy. Stop yelling at them. Stop and look into the eyes and heart of the child. Love.
delete
i deleted my FB account
i deleted my FB ac
i deleted my FB
i deleted my
i deleted
i
i canceled the delete
image drawn by nancy marie davis
marking pen on paper
unaware
he makes us
makes us relent
bleed out
our own self
yearn for relief
our heart stops
hurting
never
from the nearness
this war
of spirit we are
ever
wanting
holding to death
unaware
we think we are done
when the war of dying
has just begun
It’s okay
I am not going to dwell on where I don’t fit in. And I am not going to feel sorry that I can not have who or what I would like to have. I am going to look at what people are, and what they are to me now. What they can be now. And I want to be happy with that. Not feeling sorry for myself, but instead feeling how very lucky I am to have people in my life at all.
60
i don’t own
a home
or steeple
and i depend
on the friend
in people
i am barely here
and sometimes there
like a ghost
slipping through a keyhole
❖
cosmos
the sky was falling,
but it still looked blue.
the flower stood tall and pink.
what proof do i have?
it’s what i saw.
what i wanted to see.
the petals.
the miracle moment.
seeing
is not believing.
faith is not seeing.
love
is not enough
on its own.
✜
winged
she had wings
and it didn’t matter
one bit
that she had
no head
for figures
he figured
he could
trim her feathers
keep her
grounded
nmDavis
by the lake
May 2016 . nmDavis . Marissa Rec. Area
sky
spring evening 2016
just right
the sun was hot
but not the air
it was just right
the breeze
taking a breath
and then
blowing again
across the lake
and through my hair
and for a moment
almost believing
i belonged there
image: photo taken at the lower lake at the marissa rec area. illinois. may 2016
and yet
no trespassing…
it must be expressed
i guess
even though
i already know
that it’s not my place
within this space
i already know
this is so
and yet
i bet
if i did go
inside
i would not need to
hide
my face
Image: photo taken in New Athens, Illinois . 2016
a game
walking the rail
is a game
that lasts
a short time
until the
unnatural
tame
balance
on the line
gives us up
Image: A combination of two photographs. One was taken at a railroad crossing just south of New Athens, Illinois. The other is an older photograph of a quilt that I used at the house in Oregon. The tracks represent the journey of schedules and rules that man makes. The quilt represents the comfort that exists off the track.
in the box
people do not fit in boxes
they fit into skin
only dead folks can be put into boxes
image . by nancy marie davis 2016
buttermilk clouds
he once said outloud
with a strong
sure
voice
“those are buttermilk clouds”
i did not doubt him
for i loved the sound
of the words
that i heard
before
now
his voice is weak
and barely heard
above the sound of the
oxygen machine
now
he is hooked-up
in a solitary way
the food
the tube
entering through skin
into his stomach
no more hunger
now
only death can
release him
from the pain
the thorn
in his side
is breath
Photo ~ taken just outside of St. Libory, Illinois, on the way back from Indiana. Which was a trip to see the man that told me of buttermilk clouds.. The grandfather of my daughters and my ex-husband’s father. May 2, 2016.
Nancy
traveling through time
i went forward
into the past
young men
set in a way
until they believed
it was their way
in them
is
that little skip
in their step
the swagger
no one bothers
to tell them
they still have
one plus one
added up to nothing
one too many times
and
the counting stopped
the plan
if there is a plan
someone else has it
black ink
print
on brittle yellow paper
telling
when the flight will
leave
and where
it will land
sooner or later
scissors cut paper
she used scissors
cutting around colour
placing each rounded patch
onto the table
pink near peach and gold
yellow by orange
and near the purple
she placed blue
april
sunlight caught in the middle of tiny leaves
green flaming butterfly wings on black branches
feeling more like a new year than january ever did
the last breath of winter carried on the wind
i am in no hurry to plant or weed
or pay head to watering, sunscreen, or
hiding from the heat
i love a light breeze and lilacs showing purple
for sale
open floor
plan split
bedroom
concept vaulted
ceilings in the living
room and bedroom 3
large lot gas fireplace
3-car garage with
side door wired
for surround
sound kitchen 2 tiered
counter for seating stainless
appliances master
suite master
bath walk-in
closet basement 9′ pour
for higher ceilings a bathroom
rough-in two egress
windows high
efficiency heating
cooling system covered
deck with ceiling
fan landscaping
in front and rear
of home
the words are old
the words are old
feelings through the ages
we can make new words
we can make love
it will feel new
