once –
31 Saturday Mar 2012
31 Saturday Mar 2012
30 Friday Mar 2012
Posted Poetry
inplease listen
there’s no use denying
your heart
I’ve stopped every ounce of pretense
and succumb to the truth
was waiting me now
in the soft velvet folds
of what I was hearing
and what it was –
you never said
weren’t the same and I know that
I’m fine with embracing the blame
if it makes you feel better
when living gets lonesome
I’ve lost all the sleep
I care to afford
some mornings
forgotten to dawn
do what you must
take what you will
scatter the pieces elsewhere
but tell not a soul
what has come to your thinking
dare not to rest
lest you dream
and return to a place
you’ve forgotten to miss
breath taken shape as a sigh
graces and faces
for a while interlaced
and now only you
bear their shame
I’ve given up –
given in
traded my longing
for a sack filled with promise
and a box full of rain
a place I was keeping
of sweet satisfaction
e’en now I repeat them (insane)
the truth has a way
of coming back
as a memory
years come to mark the lies
laid between –
please listen
there’s only a moment more waiting
twilight lays claim
to these echoes of you
long since decided
the worth of surrender
thoughts have no say
of forever to spend
whatever you’ve taken
must be something unspoken
though it seems
all the verses are mine
how is it
I fell for a shimmering notion
thought was a star –
burning holes through the night
where are you now
does your faith ever falter
or do words drift in silence
e’er they remember
my name
30 Friday Mar 2012
Posted Poetry
inI wake again
as dawn’s first train
runs screaming
through the darkness –
here I am
remember me
again
I lie awake
for moments then
as echoes of returning –
stretched to fill the distance
caught between
The morning air
much sweeter here –
not much is left of winter
already there are whispers
take me home
Twig and tail
of wing-ed gods –
tiptoe to the timbers
longing come of spring –
apprentice song
Trailing light
betrays the night –
dew in silence glistens
where fell the stars
remember me
as wishes
on the lawn
30 Friday Mar 2012
Posted Poetry
inOf times before
I let them pass
burning sun into the night.
Told myself another lie –
hurts would heal in morning light.
Seems I’ve turned myself
around –
found the message in the wind
found the blossom in the snow
Into these eyes
I look again…
beyond the scars I cannot change
but for their right –
the want to bleed
hurts that made me
(this I am)
and not for less would I concede.
Ashes scatter
raised to wing –
sunset warm upon my face.
Destiny is mine to choose
for love is never far
from grace.
Another dawn
from this of dreams
comes without the need to grieve.
Faceless name
no looking back
for what I am (is what I keep).
Today awakes another sun
born of love
I give away –
becomes the beauty in my scars
burning bright another day.
29 Thursday Mar 2012
Posted Poetry
inwhatever road becomes of this
beaten path or country lane
wherever I might find
my home
sunlit skies or pouring rain
come to stories
left aside and couldn’t tell
spilled as flame into the mist
compass swirls
without a star within a breath
from every mouth
a (welcome) kiss
returns again in flight
to lines that I can see
curved to blue and fading now
places gone
another life I lived (to love)
finds the way to me somehow
back and forth
the search for one more word
a way to say what’s on my mind
a gift of song
some other me (you know)
needs more than ink
and quiet time
caught between the rise
to set
my thought to heaven
(I have known)
shores so white
and streets of gold
have naught to earn the feel of home
was here I heard my name
aloud
tumbled from a lover’s sigh
sparrows flood the morning air
as night and day are
pulled apart
traces lent to wandering
across and back
these ink stained hands
truths retraced
though now they’re gone
til only silence listens
whatever road becomes of this
beaten path or country lane
wherever I might find
my home –
sunlit skies
of pouring rain
29 Thursday Mar 2012
Posted Poetry
inThe last time
I held you –
the train was just leaving.
A pink piece
of twilight
was burned
soft as coal.
A whistle of promise –
came sweet
down the canyon –
for a moment
(forever)
was a hand
we could hold.
The last time
I saw you –
was just around morning.
We rolled into Beaumont
and stopped for a bite…
I remember that look –
how distant
(how dreamy)
reflecting on something
we’d lost
to the light.
The last time
I kissed you –
was two o’clock Sunday…
bent over journals –
some place
never been.
A dark stretch of highway
(and no place
for turning) –
back to beginning
we wandered
again.
The last time
I called you –
I suffered my longing
how deep (the missing)
a place
you once knew.
How dear
the memory
of roads left to travel –
ere time give me
mercy –
another
last time
with you.
29 Thursday Mar 2012
Posted a time for telling, Soapbox, Storytelling
inTags
connection, destiny, grace, living, love, passion, relationship, self, spirit, truth, wisdom, woman
“My mornings typically start with a period of devotion. Since I had already ‘jumped ahead’ and read today’s devotion (on Monday), I flipped to the center of book…confident in finding the right place!
Anyway, the article was written by Mary Lou Ritten and related to four leaf clovers – the analogy that you have to train your eyes to see the four leaf variety among all the rest – just as you have to train your heart to see the good in others instinctively (over the bad). Far too often, we never see beyond ourselves. We’re so involved in getting to the next place that we forget to live in this one (in a place and time we will never be again).
Yeah, I know – perhaps a little weebie-weebie! Anyway! I thought of those drawings that were popular years ago….the ones where you had to ‘train’ your eyes to see the hidden picture. But once you “saw” it, you couldn’t look at the picture again without seeing what you had missed initially.
I like to think that I always look for the good, but sometimes it’s more difficult than others. Do you remember the gratitude journals that were popular several years ago? Each evening, you would list five things you were grateful for. I have a miracle journal (some days – the miracle is that I didn’t kill anyone). The ideas are much the same – to help us to ‘refocus’ our attention.”
I wrote that almost two years ago, as part of a challenge to those within my circle to retrain our eyesight to see the best.
I’ve been accused of many things – a dreamer, a hopeless romantic, one who just won’t let go. I suppose I’m guilty but until yesterday, I didn’t quite understand how the two fit together. During the course of a job fair, it was noticed that there were substantially more people in my line even though the other lines might have resulted in a shorter wait. Some joke was made about it, and I commented that it was probably because I could type faster.
But at the end of the day, a guy who worked alongside me brought up again. He wouldn’t let me ‘laugh it off’ this time, commenting that people were attracted to me because in my eyes, they saw hope. They didn’t see pity or judgment – they saw themselves – the best of themselves. At that moment, I realized a lot of things about the path I’ve taken to ‘here’ and the ‘home’ I’ve found in the now. It is my reward to work with the broken, to see something more – to help them see something more than circumstance and consequence. Maybe if they see that I haven’t given up, they’ll choose not to.
Am I guilty? I certainly am. I’ll spend half a day looking for a four-leaf clover in a patch of weeds or a week involved in work that someone else might see as a total waste of time. I’ve held on to milk, eggs, and relationships (at times) way past their expiration dates, believing in a ‘good’ that no one else could see. When the tough get going, I get comfortable. I’m not giving up, especially when it comes to people. If that makes me a fool, then I’m a fool. A hopeless romantic? Could be. I’ve decided to make no more excuses for holding on, even if it means being accused of being blind. It’s what I do, and I believe it’s what I’m meant to do.
I’ve known darkness. I’ve lived it and I’ve looked into eyes where there was nothing more, convincing myself of a flame. I will always believe that good trumps evil (every single time), and that tinfoil, in the right light, is surely a diamond.
29 Thursday Mar 2012
Tags
connection, grace, homelessness, life, love, passion, reason, spirit, truth, wisdom
where are you now
I’ve forgotten the way
and how far the fall from believing
how tender the heart
how deep run the blues –
and eyes to surrender a soul
with no thought to pain
no thought to hurting –
you’ll take what you need
when you do
the light that you leave
fills the sky of your parting
and I am come home
when I remember
your smile
Richard 2009
By its very nature, homelessness is impossible to measure with 100% accuracy.
More important than knowing the precise number of people who
experience homelessness (or who we can blame)
is our progress in ending it. Recent studies
suggest that the United States generates homelessness at a much higher rate
than previously thought.
Our task in ending homelessness is thus more important
now than ever.
28 Wednesday Mar 2012
cooler now the eastern wind
has come to blow me homeward –
with pieces of remember
I was born
returning as the falling snow
sticking to the branches –
winter white surrendered 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
~
along these shores
forever waits
a sailor not forgotten –
strands beneath a winter sail
to make his passing true
stories of deliverance
tales of wealth and sorrow
dreams to sink beneath the waves
the rest to float away
but on another bank there stands
a maiden with a promise
words worn through by happenstance –
I swore I’d never cry
life is passing slowly
the waves of time are falling –
and he still sails
come home remember this –
remember me
the keeping of your compass
grains of sand to pour upon the sea
come again leave her arms –
returning to the river
the ocean cries –
but please return to me
cast aside your tired oars
and step out on forever
I’ll watch the tide –
and walk the shores for you
~
time has left a letter here –
poscript of surrender
and silver weaves as wonder
through my braid
lights are dimmed as all the others –
laugh at my insistence
the day will come
the sun will rise in me
the mirror sighs an awkward course –
for where the foolish tary
the strength to bare (so unaware)
of where you are tonight
the night grows cool to memories –
the coming back (so worth it)
a moment then
I’d die again for this
27 Tuesday Mar 2012
Posted Poetry
inin the place
where I was started
before the first amen
was grace
while eyes were closed
against the sun
was moon to trace
his lazy limbs
of winter to the waters
saw himself and wading in
he sailed –
across the tides
a million miles
to those who never knew him
a place consumed by shadows
fell to dark –
became the night – a virgin veil
an imprint too eternal
fulfilling every promise –
a way beyond the way
placed of stones
to mark the passing hours
as moments (still)
when all the rest
are gone
blindness
bears the truth
we’ve come to tell
come
on silver slippers
come as trailing vine –
mark the way with purpose
leaving ignorance
behind – to see anew
with softer eyes
the place
where yesterday
the moon was playing
hide and seek
against a failing light
– whispered then
I’ve found you
to himself
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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