DauphineDreams: Writings About the Travels of Life

In 2005, I created this blog as a real time journal of my post-Katrina experience and have continued it to this day. The mini-essays, observations and little bits of "flash nonfiction" published here now span several continents and almost a decade of my life. I hope you enjoy them! Note: The entries are copyrighted and cannot be republished either in print or electronically without the written permission of the author.

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Location: Taos, New Mexico, United States

Friday, February 06, 2015

Early Morning Train Blog

Home

Green green green
Blue blue blue
Brown like skin
Like fresh tilling
Like life

Stuck in the concrete cocoon
Of the city
The eyesight narrows
Until desperation makes
Fake palm trees and weeds
Shooting from cracks in bare sidewalks
A balm really
The only thing the eyes can see

Sparrows poking at cookie crumbs
And old McDonald's boxes
Are welcome strangers

But here
The passing scene
Is one I wish to immerse myself in
Become one with
Breathe in
Join together

And the pines
My oldest friends
Snow
Reminds me that there more
Than just one season
Life from clouds in blue blue sky
Life for my eyes
Surrounded by nature
The only life there is.

So glad to be home!

Nikki Lyn Pugh (c) 2015

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Thursday, February 05, 2015

New Mexico I'm On My Way...

Riding the rails again
Is this a cowgirl poem?
Kinda sounds like one
'Cept my trusty steed
Is a gleaming worm of steel
Gliding thru the industrial complex
Of Lala land.

But still
Does every cowgirls journey
Through God's country
Past sunrises and sunsets
And tumbleweeds and prairie dogs
Start with an early morning coffee
And get - somethin-greasy-and-good-to - go - with - it run
And a friendly smile from a loved one
Who means well and is intrigued by the mystery of what exactly it is
I think I am doing?
And how does a cowgril explain
The lure of mud on the boots
The passing world
The rumble of the steed
And the movement
Of on and on and on.....

Were some folks just born to travel
Live the nomadic life of no home
Just as others, okay most, choose Hoboken
Or San Diego or Detroit
Or ABQ?

Riding flying moving
The contact rocking back and forth
Of the means of transport.

Is like how the ocean
Use to rock me to sleep
On that duck - ship
Bound for the Med
And how I felt
In a visceral way
That I had finally
Found my
Home.

Nikki Lyn Pugh (c) 2015

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