Creative Energy is Currency

Writing saved me in my childhood and continues to save me but more than that, it propels me forward into beautiful spaces, wonder-filled places and uncovers a gratitude that brings life to the simple joys in each day. The propulsion that creative energies offer are the prescription for healing, resilience and forward movement. Let us  shine the light withn ourselve that is brighter from the legacy of those who have gone before us. ♡

Unplug the Circuit

My heart, like a flashing neon sign
From birth, calling to those, far and wide
They take their places in line
To freely take what is mine.

Line up, line up, I proclaim!
Whether out of pain or learned behavior
I forsake myself to the brink of shame
Forgetting that only I can be my savior.

Unplug the circuit, dim the lights
Darkness to guide the way
Shadows fuel the fire inside
Teaching the heart  to stow away.

Be a student,  with silence as the teacher
Allow it to do all the talking
An avid motivational speaker
For those with the patience to listen.

Allow the peace to flow in and around
All that my heart is anxiously awaiting
Harness the reticence that flows down
Funnel it into my potential for greatness

By Kyra Faith Jackman
5/15/2014

Invisibility

Oh, invisible me
Could I slip through the cracks
Even disappear into the atmosphere

Or could I slip inside
Your beautiful mind
And reside there

But, for the fear of not being accepted
Or the scalding truth of being rejected

No map to lead the way
For your voice reverberates
The music my heart wants to play
If only I could scale these prison gates

If only I could tear down the walls
And escape from inside
These sterile, vacant halls
I could be visible and alive

By Kyra Faith Jackman
4/15/2014 @ 2:20pm

Uninhibited Beauty

There sits a pine tree
Off in the distance
It doesn't experience
Loneliness,  heartache or hopelessness.

It grows and breaks
In the wind, it shakes
It lies dormant for a time, cheating death
Storing nutrients, in preparation for a strong comeback.

It does not strive for perfection
No boundaries, limitations or expectations
It simply reaches for the sky without abandon
Water, Earth and Sun, a recipe to dazzle the imagination.

By Kyra Faith

April 8, 2014 2:45pm

When Silence Calls

Darkness falls
Closed in walls
Can you hear it
When quiet calls?

Thunder rumbles, lightning cracks
Stops the world in its' tracks
Rain pours down
Drowning out the sound

No one would hear it
No one is around
It remains, leaves a stain
World of pain
Rained down
On this one horse town
Sun and dry air surround
The perimeter of this hollowed, solo ground.

Destitute in an Alternate Reality

Propelled forward 
Within the confines of my mind
By stretching the truth from
A vacancy left there by my youth
Stretch it until it bends into some alternate reality
Because the light of day exposes
Infinite possibility.
The limitless energy flow drives fear right through your skull
Like a stake into the heart of your dreams,
fear pierces the boundless energy and paralyzes your soul
Whisking away what lies within and
Leaving it cold on the floor in front of you,
lifeless and destitute, 
framing the burdens of a life left in chains wrapped up in shame.

By Kyra Jackman
April 13, 2011

A Limitless Divine

With intensity in our eyes
Our hearts dancing through
A limitless divine,
Power and passion seep out
Beyond the confines
Of our minds
Into the gift of tomorrow
So that we may lift ourselves up
Into the deepest blue,
Into the richest bounty,
The boundless beauty
That we can touch with our minds.
All of that and more
Surrounds us here and everywhere.
We can borrow that which is within sight,
Absorb with our souls and
Every inch of our being
As much as we can,
Short of drowning ourselves.

By Kyra Faith August 2005 revised March 31,2011

Disconnected Connection

We run to convenience
Losing the personal touch
That as humans,
We crave so much.
We become so disconnected
All the while
Convincing ourselves
We are more connected, more in touch.
We are less in tune with reality,
becoming more and more disjointed.

If we cannot hear
The emotions behind the words
If we cannot experience
All that is revealed in body language.
Can we really engage?
Can we really connect?
We can read the words
Or hear the voices,
All is left up to our interpretation.
Still, it is like watching
A performance from backstage.


Written by Kyra Faith 8/12/2005 and revised 3/28/2011

Peace Out, Peace In

Dive deep into
waters, wind,
life and the living.
Breathe deep, exhale,
take it in.
Wonder, beauty,
fire and ice,
swallow it whole.
Peace, fill your soul.
In the air
that fills the lungs,
Peace, flowing into
veins giving life,
a gift, a treasure,
Peace.

In the beginning,
In the end,
In between
Peace.
Drink it all in
and cry out for it,
Peace.

Written and published work by Kyra Faith.

Nurture & Feed Your Soul

Nurture and feed your soul
Each day
As it hungers
To grow strong
and soar
and it will.


This drawing was completed by me on May 16, 2010 and accompanies the poem to express the notion that all souls need constant fuel and nurturing to experience growth which causes evolution in the heart and mind.

Fragile: Handle With Care

People run when my lips speak the truth.
Running from the shame,
The burden of my youth.

So, I will walk awhile
Into the wilderness,
Ignore the pain inside.

Walk amongst the crowd
That clings to
Only what is allowed.

Stories told of happy times
To hide the pain
Behind classy rhymes,

Those that tell of
Sugar plums
Or ancient tales of love.

It is acceptable to dream
Of sweet and treasured
Souls that gleam.

Do not speak of the night
Where danger and demons
Fill us with fright.

By Kyra Faith
December 30, 1993

Sunflower Fields Shall Reveal

Is it even real
Telling you only half of what I feel?
Holding back for your gain,
Burying the sadness and the pain.

Are we really friends
If I don't know where to begin?
Do you really care
That I am gasping for air?

I am standing in the shadows
Of those sunflowers in the meadow,
Dreaming that you will look for me there.
I am cold and lonely, lost and bare.

I am desperately searching my mind for a place
That isn't filled with longing or disgrace.
How did I get here in a flash,
If it was not built to last?

Why should it have to be discarded?
Only fools take the role of the broken hearted.
Why did you lead me to the sunflower fields
Only for the empty truth to be revealed?

By Kyra Faith
November 21,2006

Over Consumption

Over consumption is
The poison in our veins
Slowing us down in many ways
Stealing away valuable space
In our minds
In our hearts
It is undefined
It is broken apart
In our souls
Keeping us halfway
From being whole
We have, we hold
The anecdote
That goes against
All that we have known
It contradicts
What is comfortable
It's lush and green
Spacious and clean
Home to no material things

Hall Of Wonder

Energy strung
So high above
The bricks that built
A world so small.

Life that left
Before it was done.
A soul so hollow
It was bound to all.

The mind collapsed
In it's shell
So shaken
By the ground once moved.

When the eyes
Came into view,
The girl had to ask
What had been proved.

INTO

Here is a poem I completed on September 14, 1989.

INTO
Grasping tight
Into this
Moment of confusion
Stripped of power
I speak,
Time follows,
I repeat.

All is lost into darkness.
Shadows faded,
I found
A strength within
Unknown,
So deep,
Shallow to the cause.
A spark captured
Light of day.

Mountain Home: Whistle Stop Road

Almost twenty years ago, I set out on an endeavor that I had been thinking about for quite some time.  When I first began writing, I had the desire to turn my poetry into song lyrics as I was very passionate about and deeply moved by music.  It was not until my early 20's that I actually set out on this journey.  I started this project with a couple of very influential people in my life who were also talented musicians.  We did work on the lyrics and melodies for some time and nailed down some pretty good material but, unfortunately, it ended there.  I am now at a point in my life where I am going to revisit these songs and hopefully follow through with it this time.  I want to share one of the songs with you today.
This one is called is about a place I call Whistle Stop Road, see what you think.


Mountain Home: Whistle Stop Road


Boarded the 8 am
Headed for the mountains again
Behind me the city fades
As I make my escape
Into as deep inside of me
As I could ever be
Searched far and wide
City to city to mountainside

1st chorus
From the crowded time
Where I was lost
Into this heart of mine
To feel the cause

2nd chorus
This time I'm here to stay
Found my home
I've found my way

Now this Whistle Stop Road
Is a place to call my own

Now I live and love the night
And drink the light of day

Feel as though I might
Shine along the way

(Repeat 1st and 2nd chorus)

Now this Whistle Stop Road
Has Become my mountain home

(Repeat 2nd chorus)

The Gaze

Part One

There it was amidst your gaze
like a starry night
in the country
every twinkle shining
brighter than the one before.
Every time my eyes met yours,
I was carried to some distant shore,
letting go,
seemingly abandoned,
lying in the rising tide.
Shall I be captured
by this tide
only to be cast away
into the cold and dark
alone, searching for your gaze
once again.

Part two


No, the treasure lies
in my ability and desire
to cherish the gaze,
invite the tide to caress me,
welcome the travel to distant shores,
keep my eyes on the tide,
embrace the cold and dark of it
for they too offer warmth and light.

The treasures are not in the gaze alone
and therefor, I should not be searching for it.
Instead, uncovering all the jewels
now buried deep within,
my rewards aplenty.
The work ahead appears
both painstaking and fruitful.
The focus must be on the truth,
the facts, the spoken,
overpowering the unknown,
the speculation, and
the unspoken.

Part Three


How easily the unknown,
the unspoken could draw me
into a variety of arenas,
questioning all the possibilities.
Could it have meant?
Could it mean?
Could it someday be?
Could it become
something more to me
just by focusing on the unknown,
the unspoken?

It is possible to be drawn into
a world of disillusionment,
betrayal of self,
completely out of touch with reality
if the focus is shifted.

Part Four

It is then, that I ask the question.
Why had I allowed the focus to stray at all?
Was it out of desperation?
Loneliness? Emptiness?
Drawn to the life streaming from your gaze.
Drawn to it by power, time and place.
The answers are many.
The questions, too, are many.
The confusion remains in the shadows.
Still, I must embrace, even that which
I cannot fully comprehend
as part of the joy and wonder of it all.

The Dust

I had lost my focus for too long.
A thick layer of dust gathered,
it seemed as a wool blanket
covering my hopes and dreams.
Why had I allowed myself to slip away so?
How had one experience and one person
helped me to uncover and discover?
The dust buried my soul,
my true self, for so long.

Was I so afraid to be?
That I had allowed myself to . . .
not be, feel, think or create
from the inside as I know I can.

How much different the world looks to me now.
How I feel with so much more intensity.
Still, in doing so,
I am aware of the possibilities
that the strength of what I feel will increase,
be enlightened with every turn, with every glance
and with each introduction that follows.

The colors are so bold and bright.
The variables in between are so rich and plentiful.
So full of wonder and excitement
is the path ahead.
Still, I feel fear tugging at my back.
Struggling, the fear tries to keep my steps forward
to a tiptoe, a mere shuffle.
I must push ahead,
fear at my back, possibility in my sights,
follow the path until . . .
I meet another path, until . . .

Standing Still . . . Awakened!

A follow up to my last post, this is another composition of mine from that same period in November of 2002 when I was experiencing some serious changes in myself, in my perspective from the inside out.

Standing Still . . . Awakened!

Time passed and I stood still,
waiting for the world to offer itself,
waiting for the fruits of my labor to be offered up
as reward for hardships,
as payment overdue
for pain and suffering,
for years, for tears, for heartache
as if it was owed to me,
as if it was written in some contract
of life, of parent to child,
of friend to friend, of sibling to sibling . . .
a contract, written by me for myself.

No other is responsible
for bringing the fruits to the table,
for bringing the fruits to me,
for bringing me to the fruits
that are offered by the world,
waiting to be selected and tasted,
devoured, enjoyed, savored
for each and every bite offers
a sample of sweet, sour, bitter,
rough in texture,
filling me whole and leaving behind
a taste of sweet, a bit of sour,
bitterness on the tongue
that lingers awhile
offering gifts
for my senses
to be awakened,
awakened day after day.

Clearing Away The Clutter

Here is a piece that I completed in November of 2002. After some life changing experiences during a trip to California that month, I did a lot of writing. I will certainly share more of this writing in the future as it reflects the evolution that took place in me during that time.

Clearing Away The Clutter

Clearing away the clutter
who imagined it could have such an effect?
To be able to think more clearly,
feel more deeply,
be reunited with your senses, as if,
having met them for the first time.
Breathing much more easily,
seeing much further than before,
observing so many little details
of which I had not even been aware.
The details shine brightly.
It amazes me
that I could have lived without
the depth of feeling.
The details seem to be as necessary as
the air in my lungs
in allowing the blood
to continue to flow.

The world is grand,
the variables are many.
It is an ocean great and fierce,
so beautiful and scary,
so deep and wide,
so full and so lonely,
so blue with many shades of grey,
so vast and yet boxed in.
Turning each way to face yet another wall
to break through.
Oh, what splendor, to break through.
For something new, fresh and awesome awaits
to bring life to something inside
waiting to awaken
with splendor, with awe, full of wonder.

No matter the timing,
there is no preparation to be made.
For, these wonders come and surprise
even the most skilled seekers of life.
It is not in breath that we live,
not in a day or a moment that we live.
It is in wonder that we dance, that we live
full, whole and in awe of the dance, the life, the gift.