Gone Fishin’



Hundreds of friends on social sites but the sight-seeing I do is always alone.

Scenic routes to nowhere.

Breath taking views that always prelude
breath taking falls.

Pride is a faulty fence that won’t hold under your weight.

Especially mine.

I leaned in to rest and got too comfortable.

And I have been trying to dig myself out since.

I hate myself for it.

Because questions only give birth to more questions.

Conversations turn into more conversations.

Everyone is SURE of everything, which is really nothing.

Daring to dig deep but deep thinking doesn’t pay the bills.


Talk really IS cheap.


I prefer writing poems lately instead.

I like the indirect way it guts my soul.

It  holds me  under the  faucet, like a  fish.

Spilling cold water, blood and secrets.

Baited and hooked.

Filet of fresh foolishness.

Piercing the knife through my belly and up toward that trouble making throat where my voice always escapes me.

Running thumbs up my spine to clear all the waste, (just like you taught me) because no one else is gonna do it.

The sharp blade of reality will scrape the scales and dirt that burden you,

but it never really clears it all.

It only accumulates to add character and flavor.

Wrapped in garlic butter and foil and thrown to the fire to become something worthy of the fight.








I will not live in fear


“To live with fear and not be afraid is the final test of maturity.”
― Edward Weeks

“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.”
-1 John 4:18

I want to unzip this heavy coat of fear,
and run as fast as I can through the trees.

Forever in my way.
So full and looming.
Tall enough to cast shades of doubt.
Shadows and cold memories threatening me to obey their call.
They spread all across my heart with snarled clutches.
Persuading me to stay;
take shelter here, where it’s familiar.

Today is different.

A beam of bright summer sun shines through.
Perfect, radiant love is here.
Casting out all fear.
Sunrise in my soul.
Draws me in and I stand,
soaking it up.
Greedy with warmth,
I soak in as much as I can-
into each pore of my face.
Sweet and wild;
hope intoxicating.
Brilliant and bright,
despite this frozen ground.
Oh, Lord you are thawing this frozen ground…

Branches snapping under my feet,
surprised as I am by my speed.
Quiet interrupted only by my breathing.
Deep and measured.

No time to stop and survey.
No time to stop and question.
No time to stop and be afraid.

I know where I’m going.


Wind Chime

“There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” – Albert Einstein

“Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems.”
-Walt Whitman


Plastic porch throne,
enjoying moonlight and chamomile tea.
Quiet night moments earned in the chaos of the day.
A brief pause for breathtaking, chilled and fresh.
Blowing off the stink of hassles and worries,
even if I pick them right back up to go inside.

Imagining what each house holds.
Winding down, sleeping, loving.

The frogs are singing loudly.
Cars are swooshing faintly.
But I’m struck by my old wind chime.

A gift from my dad when we were newly weds.
Not for any special reason, a just because gift.
It hangs from a hook, rusted and used.
A little tattered from moves and weather.
Making the soft and familiar sounds that we have become ignorant of.

I catch myself giving it credit for all of the torrents it has sustained.
The winds, the rain, the snow.
Yet here it remains.
Loyal and strong.
A guardian of each home my husband and I have ever shared.
The family and friends that have passed underneath it.
Neighbors that have been welcomed and enjoyed its song.
The many nights it was a steady companion on my porch throne sessions.

Instantly important.
Suddenly a treasure.
A tiny miracle, I almost missed it.


May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing to you, O Lord , my rock and my redeemer.
(Psalms 19:14 NLT)

The words of my mouth are formed out of my heart.
Gotta sort through what’s pooling there…
A river gushing and flowing.
A current.
Strong and forceful.
Held for so long by the damn, fear.

Mediations can sometimes be shaky-
not be trusted but I am learning to unclench the grip a bit.
So tightly to the walls
that have held me back, happy to shed the skin of excess.

Knowing your hand guides me through these currents.
Water clear, fast and smooth. Running.
Ripened leaves bouncing in the breeze.
A perfect afternoon.
A deliciously lazy moment.
Sweet shining sun cooking my skin.
Aches in my belly from laughing
Smile on my face.
Feels good to be in a season of change.
My joy found in all you’ve given me.
May my life be pleasing,
an offering.

A little something

I find myself sometimes being overwhelmed with so many things that I’m sorting through in my brain.
Aren’t we all?
So much I am learning about myself, God, beauty, resilience , writing, my family. It’s hard to figure out where to roll my sleeves and dig in this morning.
So I wrote a poem instead.

My Perfect Sentence

If I could write the perfect sentence,
it would be about love.

Family and memories.
It would be about sunsets at the Lake and the sounds that lie in that faraway place in your mind.
When you’re half asleep on the beach.
Kids playing.
Water waving.
Seagulls chirping.
Lusciously relaxed.
Busy quiet.

I would write a sentence about the sweet and unexpected love of my dog.
Little creature that loves back.
Has soul.
It softens you.

My perfect sentence would be about a warm, delicious meal shared with friends.
Glasses of wine.
Breaking bread, and laughing.
Growing full with age and experience together.

If I could write the perfect sentence it would be about justice and overcoming.
It would be about laying down my sword of revenge.
My defense.
Surrendering the fight, and loving outside of my capabilities.
God, bigger than I ever could have imagined!
Yet refined to be present in the smallest cell of the smallest things.


I would write about the magic of my children.
The secret that is they,
molding and shaping me,
instead of the other way around.
These, who are beauty and have given me beauty.
The pain of unconditional love.
It actually hurts sometimes.

I would write of the man of my dreams who sleeps next to me.
Unwavering love,
weaving us tightly together.
Surviving storms,
tornadoes of wants.
Stronger and sweeter.
My friend.

If I could write the perfect sentence it would be about love.

Mandi Holden

Believe. Begin. Persist

>>New adventure<<



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