pages turn
as truth pursued
words to dance
beyond the clear
where once I soared ~
where nothing mattered
was everything
all but mine
reason chides
an ancient passion
of sweet perfume
and loyal
pines
. . .
06 Tuesday Dec 2016
Posted Poetry, Uncategorized
in29 Tuesday Nov 2016
Posted Poetry
inin the still
where once the spirits played ~
softer my becoming
a bed beneath
the aging evergreens
memories
of mornings there
whispered into verse
a line or so
threatened not by word
light undone as yearning spread
beyond the reach
of time
somewhere I am told
they speak of mine
. . .
17 Thursday Nov 2016
Posted Poetry, Storytelling
inTags
beauty, gain, grace, knowing, life, loss, love, path of understanding, sacred divine, scars, sharing, truth, wisdom
As of late, I’ve thought of how much I wanted to share a story, but then the same thing happened – time (or rather a lack of it) got between me and the page.
But yesterday, something happened that moved me to make the time. As I was entering the parking garage near my office after work, I heard something – a low moan. It was so sad, and in retrospect, I should have known what it was before I got there. A month or so back, a lady I work with lost her husband, quite tragically. Since then, I’ve talked with her a number of times and provided books, a full body hug, and assurance that we don’t grieve what we don’t love, yet surely love is worth the price.
She was sitting in her car with the window down and, quite literally, howling. I’m certain a number of people had come that way and been immobilized by the sight of such anguish.
It would have been easy for me to do the same. She hadn’t seen me and traffic lately has been horrendous. She would have understood. I, on the other hand, might not have. I would have reflected long after I began my drive home, on what I could have done differently.
Why am I here?
It’s such an easy question, but rarely is it easily answered. However, more and more, I find that simply posing the question can lead me to choices with little room for regret.
Regardless our place of arriving, there are truths, actions and consequences that directed our path. What I’ve come to understand that even false actions, half-truths and unexpected consequences can bring us to a place of healing, gratitude, and wisdom. Perhaps it’s a fool who believes all things happen for a reason, but I don’t mind saying that some of my greatest lessons were the result of bad decisions. In many a darkness, I have realized the light I held within – that couldn’t be lost. What I view as my real beauty are my scars, the places made stronger by the breaking.
And it is those same things that allow me the willingness to move out of the ‘receiving line’ and into the ‘giving line’. In that line, I’ve come to understand that receiving is most abundant to those unafraid to give. The measure of what I’ve lost to what I’ve gained is unparalleled. Just when I think I couldn’t possibly love more, another day comes – and I do.
Why am I here?
I’m here to make the world a little better. Even in my brokenness, I can do that. I can listen with something other than my ears and feel with something other than my checkbook. I can fill a night up with gratefulness for a moment offered only to me.
The garage was growing dark as I held her, allowing her to cry into me, the sound somehow made less by the sharing. She looked at me, smiled as tears flowed, and asked, ‘why are you here?’
‘I’m here for you. Tell me a story.’
for days before
I found you here
years without your name
to warm my lips
a prayer I couldn’t raise
was mine to speak
of pain I knew
was never mine to keep
a darker night
where once I passed
miles before you came
. . .
10 Thursday Nov 2016
Tags
grace, light, love, mystery, questions, realization, reflection, seeing in the dark, truth, understanding, wisdom
was awakened
by a dream
(pieces falling into place)
a promise
given clarity
as evermore to grace
from birth
a quest for wisdom
came questions still to ask
such pleasure
with the seeking
each mystery surpassed
and tho the house
was empty
but for birds
along the wall
they couldn’t sing
(they wouldn’t sing)
were frightened by it all
so taken by insanity
at last I knew the rest
what pages had been missing
returned as consequence
when someone chose for others
what each should choose alone
would take you there
if mine to do
would gladly bare you home
I couldn’t sleep
the hours passed
as shadows rearranged
what longing knew
his away around
(truth I wouldn’t change)
always here
I see that now
I’d looked for
somewhere else
was sleeping on my pillow
searching for myself
was always here
(I wonder)
of moments
now recalled
did I share this fate
with breakfast
what nightbird strained
to call
who watched me
from a distance
storied arms
too weak to fight
taken down
forsaken paths
in shadows of the night
approaching dawn
was tennessee
out beyond my fears
papered birds now gather
these sacred psalms
to hear
. . .
27 Thursday Oct 2016
Posted Poetry, Storytelling
inbittersweet
a lovely word
speaks to ways I’ve known
a path or two
grown heavy to the briar
biscuits sometimes
much too hard
jelly to the jar
places I was going
faded now
not much left
for writing –
too much truth to tell
years
where silver grey
the earth grows hard
when for a while
I walk beneath
stars to shine
the same
as once I knew them
every one
bittersweet
they burn
. . .
21 Sunday Aug 2016
Posted Poetry
inTags
becoming, grace, light, love, old maps, passion, spirit, truth, understanding, wandering, wisdom
before the night
is scattered
by the first embrace of dawn
for moments then
I float in half awake
with thought to more
than earthly care
visions passed between
– nothing
I’m prepared
to give away
(if evermore)
a moment come
and always at my will
no ordinary feeling
wraps me sweet
within the still
embraced by this
surrender
more than breath –
or hands to hold
love that has no measure
brings a solace
to my soul
sun that begs
these buds to tremble
my sleepy eyes to sight
awakened by a
promise –
writ in messages
of light
lest I wander
past the leaving
and will my spirit
home –
to the heart
that keeps my pillow –
the kiss that is
my own
. . .
19 Friday Aug 2016
Posted Poetry
inTags
age, home another way, knowing, life, love, north, seeing in the dark, spirit, time, truth, wisdom
cooler now
the eastern wind
has come to blow me home –
with memory of forever
I was born
returning
as the falling snow
sticking to the branches –
winter white remembered me
from where I laid to rest
another time –
a sweeter soul
no different for the dying
let me sleep
and seal these words within
the place I was
committed as a softer glow
of setting –
dream me there
of circumstance
and bring my winds
to sing
. . .
21 Thursday Jul 2016
Posted Poetry, Storytelling
inOne of my favorite people passed last fall, and yet it feels no different than when he was here.
I believe George was one of the most engaging people I’ve ever known, and he thought I, one of the wisest.
I must note that’s not a part of the reason for his being one of my favorite.
Our relationship was built on the simple notion that it was allowed to be. When we talked, there was no room for agenda, responsibility, or ego. We loved one another, but the words need never be spoken. We knew – in our souls, in our hearts, in our bones.
Funny how it happens that when you rid your relationships of competition, jealousy, expectation, rules – you make more room for the thing that matters most – LOVE.
I once commented to my daddy that it was amazing how love worked. You could love as much as you thought possible, but if you allowed it, each and every day you’d not be surprised to find that you loved even more.
Even the poet has no perception of just how much the heart can hold.
. . .
beyond the reach
of worry
beyond each new
regret
the heart remembers
how the soul
can sing
. . .
08 Friday Jul 2016
Posted a time for telling, Poetry
inTags
home, life, love, nature, nothing is ever lost, remembering, seeing in the dark, solace, truth, wisdom
who worries
for a winter lost
to memory of bloom
star crossed nights
beneath an ageless moon
when spread our secrets
blankets made
in fields of evermore
clover sprang
as pillows –
did we grieve
for yesterday
tomorrow rests
as seed – a shallow grave
warmed by seasons
just beyond our dreams
. . .
09 Thursday Jun 2016
Posted a time for telling, Poetry
inTags
faith, habits, hope, learning, life, love, nature, seeing in the dark, truth, understanding, wisdom, worth
This morning, as I arrived for work and exited my car, I heard something – an almost silent droning – like a distant lawn mower, but closer.
It was sweetly familiar and before I found the source, I knew already what I would find. In the bushes to the front of my car, I saw a discarded coffee cup sitting upright in the mulch, obviously left behind by landscapers.
Inside the cup, a bumblebee.
The cup was probably about ten inches tall, and I knew instinctively what would happen if I did nothing. The bumblebee would die in the cup. He would swarm and swarm in circles, the excessive flutter of his tiny wings echoing off the cardboard, filling the summer air with the sound of jet engines on idle. He would never think to look up. It’s their nature – to search frantically in circles for a way out where none exists.
To be honest, I used to think it was the same way with tiny birds trapped in my garage, until quite by accident, I discovered a perfect little nest inside the plastic armor that protected the garage door opener.
But back to the bumblebee. I was immediately reminded that sometimes we are the same way. We can wear ourselves out looking for something (a way out) that doesn’t exist and never think to reach beyond our habits, beyond our preconceived notion of how things should work. It may just be a different way of frying cornbread or it could be in the way we look at love. Perhaps our clearest vision exists beyond the reach of our understanding.
“The world is full of magical things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”
reach beyond
this dusty view
into the heart
of all I am –
where mountains
stretch
to meet the clouds
where wings
unspoken soar
NOTE: For those who might be wondering, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I hadn’t knocked the cup over. Some things are worth the risk of being stung (ahhh, and there another story)…….
. . .
Faithful Believers, Are There Any Left?
Just a little poetry...
View my worlds
The fears of a girl, the heart of a woman, and everything inbetween...
Creating helps your soul take a breath and gives your mind a rest
Just Tea poetry and cookies
A Discovery of Enlightening Insights, Information, Humor, Writings and Musings
Psychology to Motivate | Inspire | Uplift
“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.” — Maya Angelou
Thoughts and feelings made into words about the world and times in which we live ...
making a connection when everything is connected
"Someone's sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago." Les Brown
This blog is where I post love poems and inspirational posts.
Independent audiovideo artist
My simple journey
Messages from Within