- Escape
- I would love more than anything to spread my arms and fly,
Away from the rage and sorrow that clutches like a wraith at my heart,
- To simply jump out the window and take flight, my hopes and dreams
- To simply jump out the window and take flight, my hopes and dreams
- carrying me away and up into the twinkling stars above.
- Cold they may be, but at least they are my silent lovers, watching
- over me while I watch over the small, sentimental things that I
- believe and hold dear.
- believe and hold dear.
- I want to glide away, soar far from the things that bind me to my
- eternal doom,
- Breathe in the calm that I prefer to fill my spirit, and banish all
- thoughts and feelings of helplessness and despair,
- And as I gaze out the glass portal of my cage, I know that one
night,
- I will spring forth, for though my wings are clipped, they
cannot
- chain my wild soul.
- chain my wild soul.
On Being Human
So many books to read
So many times we have to feed
Hearts filled with need
Gardens here to weed
So many words we have to say
So many feelings to convey
So much to do in every day
And don't forget to pray
How many times we have to burn
Til the lesson we have learned
And our hearts they have to yearn
And still we choose to return
Spirits meet and join the dance
Some for spite, some romance
Sometimes in Rome, sometimes in France
We think it is, but it isn't - Chance
How come we returned and are here still?
How come people fight and kill?
It is with the Light we have to fill
On this, the planet of free will!
by Wendy H. Chapman, 8/00
To be truly free
To appreciate beauty
To just BE
To hug a tree
To simply agree
To honesty
To see him on bended knee
Offering joy and ecstasy
Thru a marriage plea
To sit by the sea
And soak in the energy
And just be Happy
That's for me!
by Wendy H. Chapman, 8/00
Is My Child an Indigo
Is my child an Indigo?
I wonder as he starts to grow.
Will he know where he is from?
Next to him will I look dumb?
Will he be able to talk to spirit?
If he does, will I fear it?
Will he be labeled ADD
And prescribed drugs from an MD?
Would taking them really be prudent?
Would it make him a better student?
After the kids are thoroughly sifted
Will he be identified as gifted?
If he does, will that be wise,
Or will it be the start of his demise
Will it cause his ego to inflate
And the other kids begin to hate?
Will he challenge the teacher's rule?
To other kids will he be cruel?
Or will he be sensitive and kind?
And back at home, will he mind?
Will he tell US what to do?
And if we don't would it cause a coup?
Many will try to correct him,
But I will always love and respect him.
How do I raise this little boy?
Who has already brought me so much joy?
"You are lovely, darling Spirit"
When I say that, can he hear it?
As his eyes shine and glow
I wonder if he's an Indigo.
by Wendy H. Chapman, 8/00
When you're sad,
when you're blue,
when you're wishing
you weren't you...
When you're mopey,
when you're glum,
when the tears
are about to come
Then she pads across the floor.
Oh she can't have to
go out once more?!
Beside you she hops
up on the couch
where you sit,
where you slouch
She climbs in your lap
and kisses your face
upon your chest
her paws do brace
Her tongue is soft
and oh so gentle
Suddenly you feel
sentimental
Each lick she gives
makes you feel better,
but she'd lick off your head
if you'd let her!
Each kiss she gives
eases your sorrow,
but you decide she's getting
her teeth cleaned tomorrow
Every kiss goes
straight to your heart
How come this dog
is oh so smart?
How does she sense
just what you need?
Perhaps cause she's
a friend indeed -
Puppy dog kisses
oh so sweet
(maybe you should give her a treat?)
They melt your heart
and make you laugh,
but it's a good thing
you don't own a GIRAFFE!
by Wendy H. Chapman, 7/00
Mud Puddle Muddle
- drip drop
- piddle plop
- piddle plop
- wet and rainy
- tearstreak stainy
- tearstreak stainy
- sad and scary
- not very merry
Suddenly you see a puddle
then your mind gets in a fuddle
If in this puddle you go SPLASH! Will it cause your Mom to CRASH?Your toes they wiggle
You start to giggle
You realize it doesn't matter
If your clothes get kind of splattered
Cause suddenly you're filled with glee
And feeling very very free!
by Wendy H. Chapman, 11/14/00
Gaia's Fireworks
a darkening sky
pulsing bright
flashing power
poignant pause
rolling bass
echoing against the mountains
Gaia's own fireworksby Wendy H. Chapman, 7/4/00
Gaia's Fireworks 2 4th of July
A darkening sky
A sudden pulse - Bright!
Flashing energy - light!
Poignant pause in space
Echoing rolling bass
Against the mountainsides
"Not Tonight.." She chides.
Ask the Angels, they know -
Gaia's own fireworks show!by Wendy H. Chapman, 7/4/00
The Fantasy of Forever
I have to wonder how long will WE last
It seems nothing ever does.
So much I want it to
Our dreams match up so very well.
How soon before it's hell?Is there ANY chance?
Could you really be THE ONE?
Do I dare to even dream it
When we're having so much fun?I guess that it should be enough
And I should be satisfied with Now
The trouble with that is, you see,
No one ever taught me how.This fantasy of forever
Is just so very strong
And it will take at least another fall
Before I remember that it's wrong.And so I dream...
by Wendy H. Chapman, 1996
A Little Girl in a Pale Pink Dress.. A little girl in a pale pink dress
Skips happily along the path.
A bird calls and she stops to listen,
Cocking her head to the side, childish curiosity.
Her gaze drops to the ground.
She spies you and your petals slightly
Flutter in the gentle spring breeze
As you try to get her attention.
The bird moves off and so does she,
Skipping away still happy.You are alone
In the woods.
In the distance
The birds still sing.A few sunrises later
As you're lounging by the stream,
You feel a familiar vibration in the ground
~joyful skipping!The little girl has come back!
This time she stops just for you.
With her sandbox shovel
She lovingly digs you up
And takes you home,
Swinging you in her sandbox pail
Merrily skipping home
Singing a song she likes.She plants you in her backyard
Right next to mommy's garden.You alone are now
A garden of her very own...And you are about to blossom.
by Wendy H. Chapman, 1997
- not very merry