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tornadoday

~ …might I be found in words I leave behind

tornadoday

Tag Archives: knowledge

best ever ~

04 Tuesday Dec 2018

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

bliss, connection, faith, family, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, living, love, memory, old maps, postmark, reason, relationship, spirit, strength, truth, wealth, wonder

Just this week, a friend told me of the start of a new tradition within her family wherein each member shared their best Christmas memory. Even in recounting the experience, tears filled her eyes as she spoke of her own, and those shared by others. There were moments of sorrow and others sweeterstillof pure joy, but eventually, they all became the best memory ever.

How is it that we’ve forgotten that? To know that every sorrow wears a coat of joy, and every bliss is but a warning of grief – a missing of the sweetest part? And yet, when measured into the same overflowing cup, they become the best – again and again.

She asked to my best memory ever and I think (partially) it was dislodged from my heart by her telling, but it is one of joy and family……….the best ever still.

Tho we didn’t know it at the time, we weren’t rich. My family of six lived in a two bedroom trailer until I was twelve. Then we moved into a castle of three bedrooms….. 🙂 The memory recalled is from the ‘castle’. Every Saturday was the same. One by one, my brother and sisters would wake for some reason and make our way to my parent’s room, my parent’s bed. Until we were all there, telling our dreams, torturing and tickling, and eventually deciding on breakfast.

But Christmas was another such time. My brother (who by virtue of the fact that he was the only son, had his own bedroom) would sleep in the girl’s room. We’d all pile into one big bed (or it seemed big at the time – tho I suspect it was no more than a full-size). I’m not sure we slept at all, but during the night, with every little squeak or bending of board, we’d speculate that Santa had come around. My brother was the designated outlook for us, and he would sneak down the hall to spy on the living room………and then run back to the safety of us to report. There was no understanding that it had to be five o’clock before we could get up. The only restriction was that we couldn’t get up before Santa had arrived.

closerYears later, I have heard stories of how long it took to get all the presents under the tree*. Between wrapping, assembling, and playing with all the toys – it was their joy we were most anticipating I think. Even now, at Christmas, I imagine the sound of little boy feet running down the hall…….. ‘he’s here, he’s here’………..

Let us keep Christmas forever in our tiny hearts, remembering things little as big. Let us keep love through the sharing of stories – creating anew every best memory.

* My Chatty Cathy doll was almost worn out before Christmas, and a promise to get a kitten for my sister resulted in an unexpected run to the country – and a cat that nearly brought my dad to stitches.  In the telling, even more sweet beautiful tears.  My dad comments, ‘we didn’t know just how good we had it’….  Then he winks, ‘yeah, we knew’……..

wake me home
some other year –
beyond this life surrendered
fall to me the places
I have known –
save for me
a little room
with not much more
for leaving –
arms to fill
wake me now
to home

. . .

Author’s Note:  One of my favorite reposted as a reminder.

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between the dust and day ~

04 Wednesday Apr 2018

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

choice, death, dreams, home, hope, knowledge, life, love, nature, seeing in the dark, spirit, time

inlove

I’m not afraid
of falling –
that’s never been my style
though often I have sensed a willing pull
into the great
of all unknown –
a mystery becoming
at once my flight
my death –
my open arms
filled with something
more than life
more that time and tease
a wealth I knew
do you recall the way
my breath was lost in moments there –
between the dust and day
between the will
of falling
unafraid

. . .

best ever ~

21 Thursday Dec 2017

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

bliss, connection, faith, family, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, living, love, memory, old maps, postmark, reason, relationship, spirit, strength, truth, wealth, wonder

Just this week, a friend told me of the start of a new tradition within her family wherein each member shared their best Christmas memory. Even in recounting the experience, tears filled her eyes as she spoke of her own, and those shared by others. There were moments of sorrow and others sweeterstillof pure joy, but eventually, they all became the best memory ever.

How is it that we’ve forgotten that? To know that every sorrow wears a coat of joy, and every bliss is but a warning of grief – a missing of the sweetest part? And yet, when measured into the same overflowing cup, they become the best – again and again.

She asked to my best memory ever and I think (partially) it was dislodged from my heart by her telling, but it is one of joy and family……….the best ever still.

Tho we didn’t know it at the time, we weren’t rich. My family of six lived in a two bedroom trailer until I was twelve. Then we moved into a castle of three bedrooms….. 🙂 The memory recalled is from the ‘castle’. Every Saturday was the same. One by one, my brother and sisters would wake for some reason and make our way to my parent’s room, my parent’s bed. Until we were all there, telling our dreams, torturing and tickling, and eventually deciding on breakfast.

But Christmas was another such time. My brother (who by virtue of the fact that he was the only son, had his own bedroom) would sleep in the girl’s room. We’d all pile into one big bed (or it seemed big at the time – tho I suspect it was no more than a full-size). I’m not sure we slept at all, but during the night, with every little squeak or bending of board, we’d speculate that Santa had come around. My brother was the designated outlook for us, and he would sneak down the hall to spy on the living room………and then run back to the safety of us to report. There was no understanding that it had to be five o’clock before we could get up. The only restriction was that we couldn’t get up before Santa had arrived.

closerYears later, I have heard stories of how long it took to get all the presents under the tree*. Between wrapping, assembling, and playing with all the toys – it was their joy we were most anticipating I think. Even now, at Christmas, I imagine the sound of little boy feet running down the hall…….. ‘he’s here, he’s here’………..

Let us keep Christmas forever in our tiny hearts, remembering things little as big. Let us keep love through the sharing of stories – creating anew every best memory.

* My Chatty Cathy doll was almost worn out before Christmas, and a promise to get a kitten for my sister resulted in an unexpected run to the country – and a cat that nearly brought my dad to stitches.  In the telling, even more sweet beautiful tears.  My dad comments, ‘we didn’t know just how good we had it’….  Then he winks, ‘yeah, we knew’……..

wake me home
some other year –
beyond this life surrendered
fall to me the places
I have known –
save for me
a little room
with not much more
for leaving –
arms to fill
wake me now
to home

. . .

Author’s Note:  One of my favorite reposted as a reminder.

stilled ~

12 Thursday Oct 2017

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, breath, connection, destiny, grace, knowledge, life, living, love, old maps, passion, poetry, spirit, strength, understanding

closerhome

heaven
is never
as close as was then
warmth
to my cold
fingertips

somebody wrote
themselves into story
e’en now
I remember
the way –

the essence
of light
when stilled
by surrender

purpose made sweeter
by the giving
away

a shimmering
promise
of love yet
becoming

the same as was
morning –
found new
on the day

. . .

 

the curse of ways ~

09 Monday Oct 2017

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

age, direction, distant now, dreams, home, hope, knowledge, life, love, memory, reflection, time, years

closetothis

the trees
were praying
as the sun slipped low
to shadows cast
much longer

this
threadbare soul
these brittle bones –
a verse or so
becoming

aged hopes
of a seasoned heart
a path where none
remember

time is bent
to the shape of life
to the curse of ways
uncharted

. . .

spared ~

22 Tuesday Aug 2017

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

birth, death, destiny, goddess, grace, knowledge, light, love, sacred intimacy, shared soul, touch

almostday

forgive of life
the best of me
a sweeter sun returning
to fill the darkest
deepness –
with memory of burning
another path –
from ancient psalm
has found its way
to verse
becomes as one
death we dared embrace
when distance
spared us nothing
– a journey home
to grace

. . .

again ~

20 Sunday Sep 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

allowance, beginning again, blessings, bliss, knowledge, life, love, searching, truth

lightme

of lives
I keep no memory
but the seed
that once was love
and the need
to know
what touched me so
I’d fall
again

again

. . .

the same you loved ~

09 Saturday May 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

becoming, cherokee, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, faith, fearless, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, living, love, old maps, passion, reason, spirit, truth, understanding, value, wandering

wildflowers

what winters
have you worn away
with rosary and cotton
beneath the fold
where all your secrets lay
of heaven come
one night to find you
standing by my gate
caught between the first to leave
and coming back
to stay

with stories
of your wanderings
beyond the reach of light
with questions of your knowing
where to go
moonlight casts a shadow
on every present tense
would show the way
you knew
to find me home

wrapped in yellow flowers
once the same you loved –
grew along the pasture
a moment
passing through –
remember how
the cedars ached
to block the view of morning
of praying eyes
before the skies
were blue

how many times
have I heard tell
of blossoms in December
beyond the reach
of reason
asleep beneath the snow
flickers bloom
a sweet perfume
of mystery and madness
secrets of all colors
awaiting you
to know

. . .

no harm ~

02 Thursday Apr 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

connection, destiny, grace, knowledge, life, love, nature, passion, reason, spirit, understanding, value

I left my car behind in the parking lot, strolling in the mid-morning wonder that is April in Tennessee. The flowers are stretching and all around, blossoms adorn the trees where just a month ago, ice formed and birds fought for glistening red berries.

I juggled a cup of a coffee, my purse, and a book bag. But then I saw it – an almost perfect nest balanced upon a limb at the edge of the lot. I smiled and took two more steps before I stopped, put all my stuff on the ground, and dug my phone from the side pocket. I stepped a little closer and noticed there was a silent vigil on the nest, a sweet bird but an arm’s length away.

I took a couple of pictures, and another step. As I did, the bird moved a bit closer to the nest, as if to say, “be careful there, you crazy woman; these be the babies of wing’ed dreams”…..

It is indeed a sweet sweet life we are privileged to share. ❤

Oggl_0012

listen ~

29 Sunday Mar 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Rambling

≈ 25 Comments

Tags

becoming, conscious consciousness, death, faith, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, grief, healing, knowledge, life, memory, old maps, passion, poetry, restless, sorrow, star crossed, strength, truth, understanding, wandering

rememberedhere

on this sweltering dawn
I stand barefoot on a narrow step
looking out through eyes
blurred by emotion
seeking an unknown part of my past
a place I must have known
would find me here
with no one yet to answer
but for me
the purple buds are tempted
another week to stay

sorrow comes easily
as in the counting still –
of friends he seems
more willing than the rest
to listen as my heart concedes
I knew not when to break
or what of verses now
would yesterday
forsake

silent
raindrops
will comfort me now
a hundred times – of listening
volumes unconfessed
across a missing
separated –
mourning
words of love

how long this day
in coming
was there time before this loss
I can finally begin to recite
in an almost whisper
ten thousand volumes
of verse I never shared
and let my heart beat steadily
the celestial rhythms
of mourning
and show you the depths –

sentiment
hidden for the lifetime
that has separated us

. . .

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Writings on Life, Love, Music & Whatever Comes To Mind

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~ journey of a rose scented ink ~

House of Heart

vimal samuel

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Exploring the epiphany

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Just a little poetry...

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MyWorldsInWords

View my worlds

yelena's poetry

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The fears of a girl, the heart of a woman, and everything inbetween...

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Flared and prepared.

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Just Tea poetry and cookies

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Muck, Line and Thinker

"Someone's sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago." Les Brown

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This blog is where I post love poems and inspirational posts.

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