Lydia Mae Cooley – Medium

Lydia Mae Cooley

Lydia Mae Cooley

Cypress Mother and the Child

I am asleep in Cypress den “You may dance on my limbs and trust yourself not to fall”

2 min readApr 3, 2022

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Cypress Mother and the Child

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Lydia Mae Cooley

Life of the Deadlands

Heart veins drape themselves

2 min readMar 27, 2022

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Life of the Deadlands

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Lydia Mae Cooley

A Moment Becomes a Lifetime

The length of time decides itself short today In a full way, like the lifetime inside of a bedtime story

1 min readMar 9, 2022

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A Moment Becomes a Lifetime

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Lydia Mae Cooley

Story of Old-New Books

I found myself on the side of the road picking at a pile of used books and rugs

6 min readFeb 28, 2022

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Story of Old-New Books

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Lydia Mae Cooley

The Lovely Apocalypse- a poem/message/story

Poem is under image, this is my preface-I write to all fellow humans in my full truth. As we communally experience an epic turning point in…

5 min readFeb 25, 2022

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The Lovely Apocalypse- a poem/message/story

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Lydia Mae Cooley

Womb

I felt the full stomach of a pregnant woman today letting love wrap my hand perfectly over the curve of life Underneath our smiles the…

2 min readFeb 22, 2022

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Womb

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Lydia Mae Cooley

Ancient Ice

Suppose my poise is not really mine Held up by ancient ice Un-sculpted and un-frail

1 min readFeb 18, 2022

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Ancient Ice

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Lydia Mae Cooley

War in the Rain

The other day my heart dreamt of rain A dream unabided by my stern mind who knows better then to get let down

3 min readFeb 16, 2022

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War in the Rain

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Lydia Mae Cooley

Love Dips Its Tongue

Valentines Day-Observations in their transference to wisdom-A Poem

2 min readFeb 15, 2022

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Love Dips Its Tongue

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Lydia Mae Cooley

I Do Not Mean to be Rude

Is it rude of me to imagine painting faces and flowers on walls with you watering ourselves with plants finding the underside of songs

1 min readFeb 12, 2022

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I Do Not Mean to be Rude

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Lydia Mae Cooley

Lydia Mae Cooley

A poet with a home inside of herself. Life loves me through touch of word, lives me by my own observation; I am but the wind, pervading through stories.

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