Mdkcreativismz's Blog

{January 2, 2013}   Andalusia

Sweet caramel in a gold foiled box is just
A mellow tongue tease
Masked with bitter chocolate and orange zest.
It was hidden for the taking.
There’s too much time on a back porch swing.

Four stop lights on Andalusia main and
A turn left for ten more miles
Leaves a memory of
Ivory magnolia blossoms leading to
Giant oaks netted in Spanish moss.

Ten miles more leads to white cotton clad flatlands.
Another ten past the marsh is where you will find
Sugar white sandbars
Soaked in warm emerald waters ready for the taking.



{January 1, 2013}   Happy 2013!

I realized tonight that it has been almost exactly one year since I wrote my last post. Bad me. But not really. I write almost every night. Love it, as well as other things. So, I love this year and I love my life. And, I love …well let me say…just about everybody. Good thing, considering how bad the economy is. This too shall pass.

I love my dogs…Scotty and Johnny. I’m willing to share that. Make a donation to your local Humane Society and make the world a better place. Take a bag of rice to your local food kitchen, pitch in, if you can, lend someone a helping hand if you have the ability. Soup kitchens lead to victory gardens and roaming puppies make the best pets. Lots of joy to all. Keep on writing…and relish the power of an open mind!

Michelle K.

{January 1, 2013}  


An obsidian stone thrust upward from a silver sea and
Cast a shadow on a gold splashed sky.

Radiation often burns unnoticed but the slightest rustling of the force always snares my attention.
Magnetism forewarns me of the gaze that will capture my spirit.

And I run.
At first I always run as fast as gazelles ran when Ibiza opened her granite gates.
The shadow disappears.
My regrets call you back.

Have you come to recall me, Ibiza, one more time?
Did you remember you left promises on sugary shores?
Tell Es Vedra we spun miel in green forests.
Our fingers were splintered from felling trees.
Our hands were roughened and torn from splitting boulders.
We planted our own vines.
We followed gold western sunsets and found more turquoise waters.
Tell Es Vedra maybe the ships were lost in all the violent storms and our voice was muted by thundering angry clouds.

Time softens dolor.
Are you her ombudsman or a missionary of the heart?

You climbed the cliffs of Es Vedra, didn’t you, and stood on the mark?
Do you have the other half of the stone?
Her tides pounding against the cliff walls echo across the ocean in a melody I can hear
But I do not know the words to answer her back.
The broken cliff’s dust never leaves our feet but forever stays with us.
Her power penetrates our soul even beyond the eleventh generation.

You’ve gone too far she says.
And her magic pulls you back.
Slowly back…
While the magma boils just below the waters of Ibiza.

The vents freed spirits that raced across the miles.
We thought it just another fog.
Warm muggy mists in the night deceived us.
The blue vapors of Ibiza doused our skin renewing her bonds.

Then Es Vedra cast her net.

MichelleK. All rights reserved. (November 2012)

et cetera