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Lisa O'Neil Guerci

@word_wings

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author, poet, photojournalist, cult survivor, advocate, ally, personal assistant, audhd misfit

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3 days ago

the still-dark morning
is when I wake

already worried about past
even future mistakes

I rise slowly
as the mist
about to disappear

into the sameness
the mundaneness
of another day

follow the rythym
of robotic routine
a tedious refrain

don't forget to don the shiny mask!
Okay.

For God's sake do
what's expected

Just show up
shut up
and perform the task

it's no wonder
my soul feels neglected

Lisa O'Neil-Guerci
<feeling like a fallen leaf>
10/12/2025

photo by author by @word_wings

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4 days ago

Here's to the poets who feel unseen.
Here's to their words, unread.

Here's to the songs which long to be written and sung, yet remain unheard.
Unhummed.

Here's to the jars yet to be filled..
Here's to goblets, thirsty for wine,
eager to be spilled.

Here's to the patterns of atmosphere
which resolve on their own accord,
and the heaviness of night
which longs to become light.

Here's to the darkness, its arms already outstretched to morning.

Here's to the seasons, unquestioningly accepting the changes.

Here's to the leaves,
awaiting footsteps to rustle them, joyfully.

Here's to the wind which takes them,
gracefully.

Here's to each tender moment,
gently leaning into the next,
in rapt anticipation,
holding its breath.

Here's to these;
my own two hands,
held out, awaiting
the welcome
of yours.

Lisa O'Neil-Guerci
10/12/2022

photo by author by @word_wings

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6 days ago

This wonderful guy, whom I'm lucky enough to call Son, is 29 today. Happy Birthday, Andy!! Love you so much! by @word_wings

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8 days ago

by @word_wings

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9 days ago

written 9 years ago:

Does autumn,
even as she explodes
with spicy colors
ever make you
just a little sad?

Does she induce
the sweet, wistful ache
of summer
before it gave up the ghost?

Do you tramp
through piles of
crunchy leaves,

waxing nostalgic
for childhoods
magic?

Are your nostrils tickled
by the burning tendrils
of melancholy
and bittersweet reflection?

Doesn't the air smell like
gingersnaps..
and richly steeped
turmeric tea?

Does it move you
to linger your gaze
upon an Indian blanket sky
mirrored upon the lake

where a few leaves,
some gold,
some still green,
cling to the calm surface
like memories?

Lisa O'Neil-Guerci
<autumn ache>
10/15/2017

photo by author by @word_wings

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9 days ago

<3 years ago>

Every passing day
contains keys,
secret codes,
pieces of the great cosmic puzzle
of rebirth and yes,
death.

Yesterday is already a memory
even as I drag my toes through it-
feeling the grit
of painful reality.

This is not
as morbid a thought
as might appear
on the face of it.

There can be
a kind of comfort found
in the acceptance of mortality;

each moment brief,
a relief,
a bird of thought
aligned with my beliefs,
landing with the lightest touch
upon my shoulder,
to just as quickly fly away
as I grow inevitably older.

I think now
of that which stays~
the things time insists on changing
yet never takes away

various loves that come and go
in different iterations and shapes
as I dodge the days latest blows
and learn from my mistakes.

Then the fresh newness
of morning arrives,
and I again welcome the continuum
and endeavor
despite obstacles,
to do more than merely survive.

A new day invites me in
to sit and reflect from within
on what it means to let go,
to move on-

to rest and reflect,
to take a deep breath,
and continue to explore
the unknown mysteries
embedded in life's
strange ongoing journey-

a gracious invitation
to embrace the blessings
those both seen
and still hidden

while there is still time left yet.

Lisa O'Neil-Guerci
<to shake off yesterday>
10/8/2023

art by Catherine Hyde by @word_wings

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10 days ago

I aspire to be
as this wild rose...
which lives free of worry.

In this transition of season,
she continues to bloom~
though the night temperature dips
and mornings are brisk.

She remains steadfastly lovely,
unaware of any near
or distant trouble.

How I envy this;
the gentle,
beautiful way
she simply exists.

Soon enough,
she will fold up
her browning petals
so closely to the original bud
of her body~

then permit their graceful descent
without question or care,

as she submits
to inevitable winter
with its kiss of cold air.

She does not see this as failure,
or even death,
for come next summer,
she'll resurrect.

Is it so far-fetched
to think that I,
a mere human,
might emulate the tender rose...

this sweetly-scented blessing
of nature that knows
to obey what is innate;

the ancient wisdom
of its inner rythyms.

Perhaps it is possible.
I may never know~
but will continue
this endeavor, however~

with the belief
it can be so.

Lisa O'Neil-Guerci
<what the rose knows>
10/8/2024

photo by author by @word_wings

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10 days ago

"something wicked this way comes". nah...just shy little Ava, who finally emerged after a few days of hiding, following the vet ordeal. She is lying next to me now...just purring away. 🧡💛 by @word_wings

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11 days ago

baked monkfish~my first time! by @word_wings

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11 days ago

by @word_wings

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11 days ago

The dark morning begins
and bestows her blessings
in soft spaces
where silence nestles.

A still slumbering sun
sleepily arises behind sheer curtains
and my mind's eye~

a kind of warming inspiration...
preparing to slowly unfold
the map of a new day to me.

Candle flames undulate,
hissing occasionally,
casting shadows on the wall
as they dance
to the subtle hum
of dawn.

I move in slow motion,
preparing coffee
as cats prick and pivot
their velveteen ears,
prowling into a kitchen
dimly lit by only
a few strings of fairy lights-
like daytime fireflies.

There is scant sound.

Only purring,
and the muffled rustling
of the pages of my book,
fill this small, spice-scented space.

Even that sound
seems almost too loud,

but they don't dare
disturb the dawn.

Lisa O'Neil-Guerci
<undisturbed dawn>
10/3/2022 by @word_wings

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12 days ago