Maura Isles

M      my endless yearning for

A       an answer, signs and wonder to

U       understand, comprehend

R        reality, revealation received

A         always and forever


I         illusive, illusion, illuding me till

S        suddenly,  she appeared

L        lovely  as an idea

E        entering  hearts and minds

S       searching for love, love, love she brings.

Poem babs motee

Picture Rizzoli & Isles TNT


Notes On Dreamtime: Rebirthing

By the end of 1990, I moved to the newly developed, gated  and  affluent neighborhood Aventura, near Miami Florida. Wholefoods was not quite the supermarket at the time, so it was very community oriented and there was one in our strip mall. I went there every day, for coffee, tea, special breads and the heavenly pastry, they cooked for me and just about the whole neighborhood, everyone went to wholefoods all day until late at night after the gym, beach, little league baseball, on the way home. You had coffee and broke bread with the kindest of strangers, everyone talked to each other. I loved it.

The community board and news papers were  full of groups for this and groups for that, it was a gold mine for anyone seeking enlightenment, and I was. So, someone wrote an article about Rebirthing and included a local practitioner who lived a few minutes away from me. I kept the article for many months but finally my curiosity got the better of me and I called her and went to explore this “sign” from the “other world” I was now connecting with since talking to “Jimmys’ God”.

Harriet was sent to me from somewhere and Someone, I have absolutely no doubt about it. Rebirthing as I experienced it is a deep continuous breathing exercise, with no pause between breaths so the act of breathing itself becomes a meditation and you enter a state of calm and then drift away to somewhere other than here. While you are there, you get insights, images, memories and a very real experience of peace, comfort, NOT aloneness, but   you are awake, you know that you are not sleeping. Harriets’ job is to make sure you don’t fall asleep so from time to time she will ask you what is going on and you can answer or not but you do not come out of it. After an hour or more as she senses, she will bring you out of  it gently, telling you to come back, so  you change the rhythm of your breath and “come back”.

I did one session a week for about six weeks. I also joined her meditation group on sundays with a few of her friends who were a riot. Dottie was psychic and did readings for fun. Audrey came for the company, I think and I cannot recall any of the others now since they were not regulars like the four of us. They were all sweet and most kind and we met up at wholefoods a lot to eat cake, carrot cake mostly, because it was the best.

During one of my meditation at home by myself, my hands began moving uncontrollably and I got up and reached for  my pen and notebook as if I was told to and so began the infamous automatic writing which lasted for years and years and faskinated me to no end. Dottie the psychic , said I was communicating with my higher self and it was normal to do so once you cleared blocks to the subconscious so I just kept asking questions and receiving answers, some of which I did not understand. It was my new hobby and I had a good time until I got bored and frustrated with not hearing what I wanted to hear. I wrote some poetry and received messages about past lives and the connections with present day relations which made perfect sense to me.

I can honestly say it was a healing experience on many levels. I think the period when I thought I was communicating with my sixteen year old niece who drowned one day when I took her and the others to the beach was most profound. It healed my pain in a way I can’t explain even now. Whether I was talking to myself or spirit does not matter. I found peace and felt love and stopped hurting from that unbearable, constant pain of loss and my anger at God. For this I am eternally grateful.


Notes on Dreamtime: This Road I’m On

My friend Jimmy said to me one time,

” babsie, you  can borrow my God. Just say, Jimmys’ God and start talking. You don’ t like your God so borrow mine. My God is good and really nice all the time, try and see.” So I reconsidered the matter of God for some time after that offer and realized that my idea of God was wrong to begin with. My anger was not justified, my faith misplaced and while I was busy  living in oblivion and proclaiming my righteousness  and passing judgement upon God and all  good things; Love, good —  God was waiting, calling to me in and through all that I was cursing and damning to hell along with my Self.

I met Jimmy at a book group meeting, my friend Alan was joining the group and invited me to visit, since I had nothing else to do that night I went and met some very nice people who welcomed me warmly . I bought the book and joined my first group , we met once a week for six or eight weeks, I think. So that is how I came upon this road I’m on. I kept a journal, began automatic writing, and joined many other groups since then. I did a lot of breath work , spirit writing, spirit dancing, full moon circles, and ended with A Course In Miracles, which is the spiritual practice I follow now. Thank God  I chose peace instead of pain and suffering and dismounted that, “high horse”, I sat upon so uncomfortably for so long, proclaiming my righteousness and damning everyone and everything.

Peace of mind is the only goal worthy of my efforts now. I’ve experienced enough pain, so unbearable at times, that I’ve  cursed heaven and hell and demanded whoever, whatever was in charge make haste and put an end to all of it. But Love is  kind all the time and always. Jimmy loaning me his God was one in many instances of Grace, Love and Help, I received over these many, many years.Thank you dear  friends and strangers all, for guiding me to a God that I am absolutely certain is LOVE and only LOVE.


A psychiatrist suggests ways in which confronting and resolving problems, a painful process most people try to avoid, can lead to greater self-understanding and spiritual growth.

poems from long long ago



babs #14

how long till my tomorrow 

Anxiety –

like a whirlwind in my chest

leaves me breathless

I know the path I must take though

seemingly straight and narrow

 am on the winding turns

which leave me always at the head

of a dark tunnel

peering through to darkness


my spirit is weary

weary of the turmoil within itself

my thoughts cry out

from the depths of the hollow

 my soul now empty

existence should not befall any man

but this is how I am

how or why I could not tell

I wandered one thought

too far away

babs#23 – l2:30am

how is it I see through

 your mask and not others

this too is love

you are so sure of your smile

 it breaks my heart to tell you

 I think you are hurting so

I do know  you’Il never say

and if you did would I

know what to say

will love come to my rescue

keep smiling

I too am a fool


  babs #34

run toward a light

you think it shines for you

tis only an illusion

leading always nowhere




I will write a happy song

and sing it too

but not today

I can only think ofyou



I wait at the stop

bus named living passed me by

life is dead

I did not sleep nor closed my eyes

I did not miss it

did  not look away

behind nor sideways

pass the life please

I will wait



 tonight you called to say

you love me

and I must wonder who

it is you love

for I am like a pond

transformed by every ripple

you must suffer so for loving me

but I cannot divine the instance

of the stones cast in

my dear

 so riipple by ripple

I move on to be a surface unto myself

love me however you see me

our love will abide for a time and a day



 bar room brawls

choreographed dances

love in darkness and night



her spirit dances within

smiles break out like bomb blasts

 eyes twinkle like sun beams

happy in the moment she writes

pen slithers across the sheets 

words  like smoke curling in the air

put  ends of  curls together

and poetry is born



rust coloured corduroy

cussioned and tucked 

stainless steel bars

how comfortable is a chair



play us again

turn the volume loud

I’11 not hear the part

where I broke your heart

but enjoy how love painted the stars

and gave us a sunset to remember

the sky is such a beautiful

backdrop for drama

let’s look at it and  not  see the people

playng all the sad parts

smile it is a pretty shade of blue

you and I cast shadows so

we matter not in this show of bedazzlement


babs#43 stream of consciousness

 I swear these walls are closing in

I see the autumn leaves upon a tree

but the window is too smalll

even if I break it

There’s a highway running through my head

The turns are all dangerous

Can’t see three feet ahead

And the asphalt is slippery

Hold tight on the steering

Reach a clearing

But the road’s winding along

Always the same dangerous turnings



 see the leaves of autumn

and know there is a fall to be taken

that beautiful array of colour comes

only out of and before

a final death

so too are the ecstasies

and joys of life

preen your feathers spread your wings

fly across the open sky

feel the air upon your breast as you

head towards the sun

take joy in all of these and

you’lI seem the colours

of the leaves in fall



 Ten years or more we spent

You and I

Dreaming of a life we can share

But only in that realm

 We never should have married

Our dreams were so much more than

Both our lives were worth

How sad we played the fool

 And dared to challenge

 phantoms and night

We struggled like  dragon flies

inside a spider  web

 Our frantic gymnastics and

choreographed dances

Only entangled  our own wings

and left us broken and spent

 But wings shall grow again

next time do better than

Tangle  with  phantoms and night

learn to tango instead


 babs,  jan,  25th 1995  Through automatic writing

 Your time my dear has not yet come

You walk in darkness like the moonless night

When you behold the eyes you seek

The day of sleep you find will cease

The morn will dawn to rise you weak in less

My dear you weep in want for nought

Lesser man than you have loved

In pleasure God created you

In pleasure you must dwell

You make your dream to God you tell

And it will take you there

You dream the life you lead not lead the life you dream

My time on earth was yet well spent if you could be my end

Like inner beauty seen in love you walk in light no sun has shone

When love remembers you to me

My days will number one

The light of love your eyes have seen the years are but a few

You walk alone right now

Your eyes cannot behold the love surrounding you

My love is guiding your path which leads to joy untold

When you behold the eyes you seek the love you want will be.


~ copyright-all rights reserved~


poems from long ago


flowers 007

jan 20th 1981

 I’d like to go back

to yesterday when days were short and

nights were blessed by the angels

life was not an endurance test and

beauty was all around

where is that point around the sun

called yesterday

did it really exist?

I must have dreamed it

Those who peopled that world are no more

where have they gone

are they looking back or

did they get a grasp on things

why did they leave me here

Stranded am I



Before your smile

I never saw fire in the sky

A sunset ends the day



What is it that torments me so

I could’t tell

I just know this must be hell


Fly away little bluebird

Your songs are

wasted on me

I hear your melody


it will not sooth me

I need

arms to hold me

And eyes

so bright

they’ll lift the darkness

of my soul

I must be lifted

and carried

I have not the will

to follow agai n


what pictures do you see

when you hear me say

I love you

I see mountains and the sea

yet here am I

looking back at you

 always looking back at you

when will stand beside me?


No ever !


when you see me walking down the street

you see me walking all alone

when you see me walking down the street

you do not see the lovers at my feet

they hold my hand

they stair into my eyes and

dance me across the street

they show me off to passers by

and help me laugh or cry

they speak of love so sweet

they speak of life and

dreams in sleep

we speak of you and beet

we laugh at you on the street

when you see me on the street

you do not see

the lovers at my feet





my about page is lost

Well this might just be it for an ABOUT page for this blog. It simply disappeared and am done looking for now !!!!!!


So I will share instead jottings from a long time ago, so the voice bears no resemblance to me now. Hope you read and say something too.

On Turning Forty

 yesterday when I was wild and wise

I could not know that loving you was what I most wanted to do

I could not know the stifled breath inside of me

tonight my demons will not be appeased

are restless in the wind

storms upon my weary breast

dark clouds that hide a moon

silent rage overflows and drowns the peace

a quiet rumble rises and my heart begins to moan

no one to talk to no one to hold

no one to see into my soul

as I call to the lazy moon

tears won’t come but my cry rises high and I wait

for the storm my eternal spring and God

babs, apr.94