A Tale of Two Seasons

Snow still covers the ground,

As the first day of spring comes around.

The skies are gloomy and overcast,

As we hope that spring has arrived at last.

 

Could it be the voices of the larks,

Happily chirping throughout the parks?

Could it be the gentler, softer breeze,

That replaces winter’s cold and biting sneeze?

 

Could it be the glimpse of blue sky,

That beneath those gray clouds we spy?

Could it be the sun’s bright and golden light,

So welcome after winter’s fading white?

 

Snow still covers the ground,

As we wait for spring to truly come around.

The skies are gloomy and overcast,

As we wait for some sign that spring will last.

 

The first day of spring has come and gone,

Leaving us with hope that winter will soon move on.

 

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May Flowers

May flowers, May flowers,

A welcome change from May showers.

You light up the day

After all that dreary gray.

Bursts of color and light,

In which the bees take delight.

You glow in the sun,

As beside you squirrels run;

You stand out against the sky,

As above you birds fly.

Serenity fills my heart when I see you,

And you keep me from feeling blue;

You put a smile on my face,

As you spring up all over the place.

I’ll be sad when your petals float away,

I wish you were here to stay;

But even after you drift to sleep,

In my mind your beauty will always keep.

May flowers, May flowers,

Beauty and joy are your powers.

April Showers

The drops fall from the sky,

Welcomed by the dry, cracking ground.

The soil lets out a deep sigh of relief,

While the trees dance in pleasure,

And the flowers laugh with joy.

 

The rain was long awaited,

As nature sought to quench its thirst.

The drops bounce on the leaves,

Glide on the flower petals,

And quiver on the branches.

 

Although the dark clouds are dreary,

The flowers glow after their cleansing shower.

The bushes and trees are alight with color,

The grass is lush and soft,

And the soil is richly filled to the brim.

 

The rain has finally arrived,

And all of nature seems most grateful.

It needed a change from the dry heat,

It needed to be refreshed and replenished,

But sun, please don’t stay away too long.

Writer’s Block

Oh, writer’s block,

How dare you come knock.

 

I look for the words,

But they fly away like birds.

 

I cannot find how to say

All that I wish to convey.

 

It’s all locked inside there, somewhere,

But the key has vanished into thin air.

 

Even to finish this simple phrase,

The words struggle through the haze.

 

So much I want to express,

But today it’s just a jumbled mess.

 

How can I open the door

To let my words flow once more?

 

Why must they insist

On remaining hidden in the mist?

 

If only I could find the key,

That fits only me,

 

Then I could unlock

This damn writer’s block.

Guardian Angel

Another guardian angel joins the sky above;

Another guardian angel to watch over us with love.

 

Unexpected, yet expected, it was her time,

and to truly do her justice, there is no rhyme.

 

Memories are all that now remain,

They are the remedy for this kind of pain.

 

The thought of the loss hovers in the air,

As if it isn’t really there;

 

It hasn’t yet sunk in,

That this was one we couldn’t win.

 

She’s gone to a better place, they say,

But that does little to make the ache go away.

 

How bittersweet a thought to know

That for her to be at peace, means we must miss her so.

 

Another guardian angel joins the sky above;

Another guardian angel to watch over us with love.

 

 

In loving memory of my grandmother; she will be greatly missed.

A Reawakening

The birds chirp joyfully and gracefully glide from one tree to another.

The trees begin to gain back some color, rosy buds making them blush in the glowing sunlight.

The daffodils and crocuses are a welcome dash of color and brightness after the drab grayness of winter.

The laughter of children floats up to my windows; they are excited and eager to stretch their legs, no longer cooped up inside.

The shouts of the boys mingle with the singsong voices of the girls, putting a smile on my face.

The windows are wide open and a breeze carrying lovely promises for the days to come floats into our home.

The breeze that dances through my windows is a gentle caress, and no longer the biting wind of winter.

The undergrowth of the forest is no longer simply brown and gray – young, bright green shoots are sprouting out from under the dead, dry leaves.

The sky is a deeper blue; the glow of the sun is brighter and more golden.

The days are longer, the sun is warmer; everything is reawakening, eager to greet the days ahead.

The long wait is finally over.

Welcome back, spring.

To Write or Not To Write

It’s been quite some time since I’ve written, and as much as the past few weeks really have been busy, my lack of inspiration is also to blame. I do have a few photos I could post, and I will put them up soon, but this blog was initially started as a writing blog. I really enjoy putting up my photos and I’ve discovered a new love for photography with my blog, but sometimes that makes me lazier about writing. I don’t want to get lazy about writing, and with all my current free time I have no excuse to be lazy or procrastinate. I love to write and I have always loved writing, for as long as I can remember.

The first personal writing I ever did started in elementary school, when my sister bought me my first diary. I went through many diaries since then, and also many notebooks and journals of all shapes and sizes. Some of those became diaries; many of them became my poetry notebooks. I think I was in middle school when I began writing poetry, although high school was definitely my most productive period. I had a wonderful high school experience, with all the happiness of close friends, flirtations, parties…but I also had my share of teenage angst and unrequited love (until senior year 😉 ). Doesn’t that sound dramatic? Ah, but such is the life of a teenager, and drama sure makes for good poetry. Although, I would have to admit that my poetry didn’t particularly center around darker emotions – I would write about friendship, about love (what little I claimed to know at the time!), about the beauty of nature (that hasn’t changed), and of course the occasional ‘deeper’ emotional poem after a particularly dramatic event. Please note that ‘dramatic event’ is to be taken with a whole box of salt, not just a grain. This is high school I’m talking about, after all.

Well, I clearly went off track there, so let me get back to the point of this post: my love of writing. I had never thought of writing a blog, but when my husband mentioned it last year and I finally wrapped my head around the idea (what a weird expression…), I realized how perfect a next step it would be for me. I didn’t expect to love it as much as I do or that I would ‘meet’ such wonderful and encouraging people, but those have been such pleasant and welcome surprises. Blogging has allowed me to explore my writing in a different way, and part of me always wanted to share my writings, but I never knew how. Writing is so much a part of me, and I love the words as much as I love the act of writing. I’m still ‘old-fashioned’ and I write on paper before typing things up. I do that for my personal writing as well as for all my academic work. I love picking up a pen or pencil and watching the words appear on my paper. Writing in pencil is a big favorite of mine – I love the scratching sound of the lead on the paper and I love sharpening the pencil to write with a nice crisp lead. Yes, I am that old-fashioned: I prefer a classic wood pencil to the mechanical ones.

The bottom line is that I always come back to writing, no matter how long of a break it’s been since the last time I wrote. Writing soothes me and puts me in a mood of tranquil serenity. When I haven’t written in a while, I truly miss it.

Here’s hoping that turning 27 will bring lots of inspiration and fulfill this writer’s itch. Looking through my notebook, if the first 10 days are any proof, it’s looking to be a good year.

The Whispering Brook

The leaves crunch underfoot as the half-frozen brook gurgles nearby.

The squirrels continue their acrobatics above, jumping from branch to branch.

Apart from the rustle of the leaves where they scrounge for fallen nuts, it is silent.

The silence of a fresh start, the silence of a new year.

A beautiful silence.

 

The stillness is interrupted by the lively chatter of the brook.

The water rushing between the frozen banks is music to my ears.

I love the sound of running water in the wild.

The sound of a stream, a river, a brook, gives me a deep sense of peace and tranquillity.

The water dashing over rocks, tripping over fallen branches, running towards an unseen finish line.

Is it sprinting towards a lake, an ocean, a pond, a waterfall…?

Does it matter?

 

No matter the destination, it is always moving forward, never backward.

So like the water I love so much, which brings serenity to my soul,

I too will look ahead; I too will move forward.

I will dash and I will trip,

And although the finish line is unseen (and hopefully still very far away),

I will continue to go towards it, enjoying every step along the way.

 

It is a new year.

 

It is a new adventure.

 

I wonder where the current will lead me…

Photo taken in January 2011 (Copyright - Raya Fayad)

Happy New Year – may 2012 be filled with love, laughter, happiness, hope, and calm waters.

Dancing with the Trees

A lazy cloud floats in the vastness of the blue sky.

The wind whispers secrets, causing the trees to shake with laughter, sending their fiery leaves dancing to the ground.

The sun plays hide and seek with the clouds, alternating the warmth on my face with sudden dashes of cold shadows.

The wind suddenly hushes, the trees are still, waiting, listening…

Then with a sudden gust, they are all chattering and jabbering, some gossip unknown to us has them all bustling.

A single leaf floats through the air, an acrobat carried by the wind, astonishing its audience with twists and flips.

It is joined suddenly by a partner. Together they complete their gravity-defying performance, and then land lightly on the ground, taking a bow and a well-deserved rest.

The wind seems to have a lot to say today, and the trees are a captive audience.

Oh, if only we could know what was being said! But perhaps then it would lose its charm.

Now the birds have joined the conversation, quietly but steadily they are sharing their thoughts.

The wind and the trees are very polite listeners and have stopped their chit-chat to hear what their companions have to say.

As the sun warms my face, I watch the trees dance with their own shadows.

The voice of a child floats up to the sky as he looks at those dancing, laughing trees. Perhaps he understands them and the chattering wind. Does he know the secret they’re not telling me?

And even if he does, that’s alright. I don’t mind the mystery, as long as I can keep listening to their secrets and continue laughing and dancing with the trees.

Welcome Back Autumn

Out with the new, in with the old,

Flickering flames of red, yellow and gold.

Clear, crisp air and dazzling blue sky,

Hear the wind through the trees sigh.

Squirrels and chipmunks scurrying around,

Picking up chestnuts fallen to the ground.

Although it is yet but a pale blush,

Soon it will spread with a rush,

Bringing with it warm flames of red, yellow and gold,

As we do out with the new, and usher in the old.

As much as beautiful spring allows things to grow,

I welcome you back autumn, for I have missed you so.