Quiet Solipsism & A Case of Confusion

I thought we used to be

pretty good

friends,

friends with a mission,

real friends -

but

no more.

I am invisible to you now,

unless you are forced

 to be in my company.

I am someone

 you tolerate

as you hide behind a drink

or your

 good deeds at church.

But good deeds

 won’t get you

 into heaven.

Am I so vile

because

I have grown old,

or because

I am not so pretty?

Or Is it because

you now have lots of money

and a big house,

and I don’t,

and you are ashamed for me,

pity me,

think me crazy,

to ease you mind

and your guilt?

Is it because I have no children

and we now share different

life experiences?

You work to be seen

at every social event,

even though I know

 how you despise those crowds

and their dusty lives.

Have we grown to be so different

than the realities we once knew?

Is it because I have suffered much

and you have not?

Life has the appearance

of perfect bliss for you.

But somehow I doubt that it

 is all that it appears to be.

Are you afraid my pain

or my poverty will

some how

rub off on you?

Or is it because

I know all those quiet secrets,

the ones you cannot afford

for the world

or your now rich neighbors to know?

I am the same one

you have always known.

I know your true heart

and your soul.

It does not belong here

among a myriad of

things

and polished silver.

Why are you here in this barren land?

 I will move on now.

I will keep your secrets.

And I will try

not to think of you

again,

for where you have gone now

breaks my heart.

But I have no right to judge,

though  I will pray for your salvation.

For I am,

and always will be,

your friend.

                                                                                        Joyce Burns

© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011

If I Swallowed the Moon

© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011

Remembering 9-11

As the sun filled the sky

on a quiet September morning,

life forever changed.

So many stories

between lines of time and pain.

So many lives,

bursting with promise and hope

suddenly gone,

but never forgotten!

Ten years of memories

and still we cry,

as we carry the weight

of our broken hearts

and lost innocence.

May this day

be filled with new beginnings,

as souls at last find peace

beneath the whisper of trees

and murmuring waters

surrounded by bronze remembrances.

Let the sun shine on us again

and may we learn the meaning of peace

and move forward into a new day,

being mindful

that the tragedy here

was born of others’

hate.

May healing begin

and life renew,

and may we always remember these

beautiful souls

and those who died after them,

seeking freedom

in their memory.

                                                                   Joyce Burns

© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011

Sunday Mornings

The quiet of a Sunday morning.

The house is still asleep.

As outside rain tumbles from low, soft clouds.

The aroma of blueberry muffins

and the sound of distant cars implant in my memory.

I sink into the soft leather couch with my notebook,

hoping to catch my thoughts

as a curious wide-eyed puppy appears looking for his human.

I smile as my simple pleasures unfold,

and my thoughts drift to you my love...

still lost in your hazy, quiet dreams.

Ghosts of past and present drift by like butterflies on the wind,

their soft colored wings beating on my soul this morning.

I silently thank God for another quiet, unruffled day.

Soon appointed duties force me to rise, but I

save these memories in the folds of my heart to recall another day.

I love the quiet cracks in time on rainy, Sunday mornings.

                                                                      Joyce Burns

© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011

On Being a River Rock

As a river rock,

the days wash over me

and smooth my lines.

I was once large

and jagged,

but now I am smooth

and small

and wise.

Fear not the storms,

but heed the daily ripples.

                           Joyce Burns

© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011





Links 4 Writers & Creative Minds

More than once during the past year I have needed experienced individuals to guide me through the maze of writing do's and don'ts.I am still green, but beginning to find my way.I have met some of the nicest people along the way who have freely shared what has worked and not worked for them.

I have learned much!

Although I have a long way to go, I wanted to share some links from my journey thus far in hopes that these will help other people needing assistance or just wanting to find some wonderful websites, art and books.

Simply look to your left to browse the list, but be prepared to spend a bit of time. Lots of information here and much more to come.

Thanks for dropping by. Hope you'll come back soon.

And if you know of any other cool links I need to add please email me or catch me on FaceBook. And thanks for your support!

September Treasures

September days,

Sunlight beaming through windows at a slightly different angle, signaling Autumn.

Outside, leaves are starting to say goodbye to Summer, one by one.

The quiet of this perfect morning is so peaceful and healing.

My mind drifts to tomorrow,

When everyone will be hurrying back to nowhere,

but in getting there must be faster at everything,  than any person next to him.

I stay still and quiet this morning to learn what is appointed me this day.

 I watch humming birds dart to and fro, for treats on my porch,

and dozens of butterflies have come to dine and visit.

As the last rose of summer opens triumphantly to capture my heart;

it radiates, on the lightest breeze, a smell so sweet the angels smile.

So many gifts laid on our parched souls if only we open our hearts and minds.

Yet most choose not to see, scurrying away –

searching frantically for what is missing.

I return again to my stillness and drink in deeply,

               savoring these treasures in my heart for the long, cold days to come. 

                                            Joyce Burns

© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011