Teetering on the Edge

I’m not the

edgy girl.

No tats, no spikes, no dreads.

No piercings, no punk.

I may

on certain


look like the herd animal who


and waits

and watches —

hour by


In truth,

I love to teeter on the edge.

I love the glance.

There are lifetimes in a glance.

I love the sudden moment,

the realization that points me toward a choice.

I love the choosing,

rife with possibility.

I love the release,

the willing trade of certainty for chance.

I love the dance,

the should I? in full blood alliance with the windswept YES.

I love the joy,

the fearless taking of the Yes Yes Yes.

I love the leap,

the secret willingness to fly.

I love the fall to earth,

my home, my love.

Waves may be small, but oh

I love

the splash.

© Pam Goode

The Wild One

In the end,

(and there is always an end),

I will never be




The one who leaps

without looking.

Who says her mind

of a moment

(without weighing




The one who feels so



that she speaks

and Acts

in a fluidity

that escapes me.

My wildness is




and my leaps teeter on the wind like fledgling birds.

And yet I leap.

Because the heart

still rules,

and the wind still lifts.

© Pamela Pardue Goode

(Written while cutting pink circles in a race to finish a mosaic)

What is the Cost of Vulnerability?

What is the cost of vulnerability,
the cost of living
without thought to self ( -protection  or  -deceit ),
to stress and stretch my ego
thin and imperceptible as wire
pulled high above the cloud that crowds
the net until it lays full
burdened, flat upon the ground.

What cost
to loose my soul like yellow kites
unbound by human hands but
simply, gladly,
taking to the sky quite unconcerned                                       
like heat and wet to tea-bag,
grasping nothing more than my
free-willed collision with unknowing.


What cost
to walk the wire and follow free the soul,
to answer yes, to hear, to feel, to know.

c. Pamela Goode


the world is topsy turvy on me now
and i am left to wonder
if my center is askew
or simply old
and hardened,
and seeing these new days with eyes
unable or unwilling
to adjust
from my accustomed way
of watching doing caring.
asking soft if i will need to (want to) (or be able to)
re-right (rewrite)
myself ,
or if the universe
will find her quiet balance
at last.
or maybe
we will both fly off our axes
the twinkly