Oh little weed
What wonderment
To see you spring so gleefully
Up from the soil
Into the yard of certain tragic destiny
March 1998
Written in the back of the car while driving to San Diego with my parents to go to Nursery’s and Tijuana, Mexico one last time. (My father had cancer and died the following year) We were talking about plants in their back yard when this poem just burst into my head. I spent a lot of hours weeding their 2 acres!
Julia Ann Ferguson
A Symphony with Nature’s Fingers
Listen to the leaves
Swaying to the Songs of Nature
Dancing lightly on their branches
Whistling whispers in the Wind
Stillness hushes momentarily
‘Til a breeze tickles a laugh
Then slowly louder grows the rustle
Nature’s fingers talking back
Hear them singing hymns to heaven
Lullabies to baby birds
Majestic music from trees and bushes
Taking cues from Mother Earth
Each one has a life of glory
Singing songs full of mirth
Each one tells a separate story
Of life and breath and death and birth
Worn as clothing, cast as jewelry
Hung above the door and hearth
Listen to the leaves of Nature
Smell their beauty, praise their worth
September 4, 1997
I wrote this poem over a 2-month period when I lived in San Diego. The view of the 25+ different trees and bushes from my window while I played on my computer was my inspiration.
Julia Ann Ferguson
My last dog, Wyatt Burp
Broken is the heart of summer
Desperate cries in mid-July
Clouds of pain begin to hover
As I search my restless sky.
Quietly groping through my memories
Deep within my numb struck mind
I rest upon that blessed December
When Wyatt caught my husband’s eye.
I let myself begin to wander
Through that eve of Christmas past
And pause to linger on their laughter
That first encounter went so fast.
I turn and look out the airplane window
And gaze into the setting sun
The warmth outside tries hard to heal me
My grieving process has begun.
I lay my head against my pillow
My swollen eyes beg to rest
I fondly think of lazy Sundays
When Wyatt’s head rest against my breast.
Golden Beauty, Golden Puppy
Eyes that reached into my soul
May your heaven have sandy beaches
Warm blue waters, a grassy knoll.
July 8th, 1997
Trying to cope with the death of my 2 ½ yr Golden Retriever who died due to an allergic reaction to medication while I was out of town
Julia
NB: I have not “owned” a pet since this loss. I cherish animals but hate the end part! The Vet at the emergency hospital informed me that we had a terrific law suit against his organization as any of the Dr’s at the hospital we had been taking him the past months should have noticed he was allergic to this medication that caused his liver to basically explode. $5,000+ and a dead dog. I just didn’t care about suing anyone. I was truly brokenhearted.
Tags: airplane, death, dogs, Golden Retriever, grieving, travel, Wyatt Burp
Soul mates of another kind
They say my thoughts
And read my mind
They know my fears
They share them too
They type my sentences before I do
Their smile’s my reflection
Their voice my own
We have separate bodies
But one internal home
Always amazed each time I find one
Always thrilled to meet another
These soul mates of another kind
Are lifelong friends not fleeting lovers
I seem to know them “as if forever”
Time doesn’t notice when we met
That bond of “something special’s flowing”
Both face to face or across the “Net”
It doesn’t matter what’s their gender
What’s their age or who they know
My soul mates of another kind
Exist within me and never go
December 21, 1997
My kindred spirits are soul mates with me throughout my life. I don’t believe a soul mate is one designated person to be your lover. My soul enjoys sharing with all the special ones in my life.
Julia Ann Ferguson
Tags: friendship, kindred spirits, soul mates
Kindred Spirits
If we should touch, hand to heart
You would feel my soul within you.
Knowing not, from where we end
The start of melding flesh and sinew.
Magical and mysterious.
Illogical and curious.
Beyond the present state of mind
A kindred spirit can’t be defined.
But gentle as the morning air
And consistent as the setting sun.
A kindred love is always there
Predestined to the other ones.
We know no space or time constraints
We see and feel internally
We somehow sense the others thoughts
We share these bonds permanently.
Once touched by a kindred’s love
You’ll recognize them everywhere.
They have no gender, age or race
Or length of time set for you to share.
The purpose of this special bond
Has yet to reveal itself to me
But kindred’s have helped to free my soul
Teach me love, guide and protect me.
Found a kindred in your life?
Cherish your luck, offer your time
No deeper moment will you know
No greater blessing will you find.
August through October, 1997
Written in an attempt to define the spiritual and intense friendships and acquaintances I have had over the years that happen without effort but seem to have great purpose.
Julia Ann Ferguson
Tags: friendship, kindred spirits, love, soul mates, spiritual
One World, One Peace
Peace begins within
Like a simple silent prayer
To want quiet for the world
To wish release from despair
And food for the many
Requires nurturing your soul
To give to others
In spite of what you know
Religion is division
Let your “one” god go
Acceptance above all others
Is a holy valuable
Reach out to the masses
By loving you and yours
A simple act of kindness
Can spread to foreign shores
~ Wednesday, August 06, 2008 ~
Written because I believe peace is more about shifting the human compassion meter up quite a few notches and less about waiting for governments to do what’s right. You may not be able to change how government reacts but you CAN change how you act.
Julia Ann Ferguson
Tags: acceptance, foreign compassion, kindness, love, multicultural, peace, religion, soul, spirituality, world citizen
Hairy Showers
It’s my hair.
Right there. On the shower wall.
And I don’t care.
As it is my hair.
Not the couples from down the hall.
The thick haired guys from up above.
The girlfriends from the night before.
My hair that is on the floor
Clogging up the drain.
And I can shower all day long
From night to dawn.
On and on.
Let the hot water run down the pipes.
It’s all the same to me.
As it washes away my hair.
Not yours, not his, not theirs
But mine.
And sometimes Maartens too.
Oh what to do
With all this newfound clean time?
Why I think I shall go wash my hair
And let it sit there for awhile.
Marking its territory.
Making a home for itself.
Casually clinging to the shower curtain.
Stating…I belong.
I can move freely about the shower
Without care…no squeamish thoughts
Oh my gosh, what is that…
Who’s is that?
Why now…it’s ok.
It’s just my hair!
August 5, 1999
Written in the shower today while realizing that I no longer had to freak out over the fact that I was the only one who washed away all remnants of “me” while the other 5 tenants who shared our previous shower never did. Today I am showering in my own private shower that Maarten and I share with no one else.
Julia Ann Ferguson (3 months before adding Andriessen to my name!)
An American Foreigner trapped in a Windmill
Who is this woman?
Unrecognizable, boring, quiet
Foreign tongues engage in lively gibberish
Yet she is the foreigner here
In her distant home
She feels homeless isolation
Animated conversation bounces around her brain
And is lost to translation
Who she is, is hidden behind her silent expressions
Her inner truths imprisoned unto her singular vocabulary
Her intelligence minimized down to small
Childish phrases and words
Limited to a language spoken by a culture that dominates the world
Who is this woman?
Uninteresting, calm, solemn
The word weaver, the verb dancer
Silenced by unknown words
May 15th, 1998
Written to express my frustration on knowing very little Dutch after living in the Netherlands as a Love Immigrant© for about 3 weeks and feeling like my very essence was vanishing.
Julia Ann Ferguson
Tags: acculturation, Dutch language, expat, frustration, love immigrant, the Netherlands
There’s moments in the sun
When the worlds truths become undone
When magic reigns and folly dances
When the glint on the ocean floor is mystic madness
And in these moments I spread my wings
I fly to places in my dreams
Here the possibility of all is true
Including my undying love for you
~ February 15, 2011 ~
Written about the joy I feel when I am at the beach and how the sun on my skin removes pain and has the illusion of returning me to a moment in time when life was all possible and I could love my husband (my adorable Dutchie Maarten Andriessen) the way I wanted vs. what I must accept due to my physical challenges.
Julia Ann Ferguson
Tags: Arthritis, beach, chronic pain, fibromyalgia, healing, maarten andriessen, poetry, sun, sunshine, Ulcerative Colitis
And so it begins. An “official” place on the web, in the world for my poetry and musings. Over the years and my past websites I have always included a section for my poems. And a few weeks ago I found a website with a guy using one of my poems as a description of a song he wrote. Well cool tune but how about giving the girl here a little credit eh?
And geez, this isn’t the only time, lately it seems to be happening more and more so I sorta snapped, ranted a bit and found this URL was available.
So the official, stupendous, most excellent, totally true, authorized and all that jazz real words rhyming and otherwise of me, one Julia Ann Ferguson Andriessen often referred to as JAFA website for my poetry was born.
Poems coming soon. Hope you feel me.
Tags: ferguson, jafa, julia, musings, official, poems, poetry
