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becoming, connection, east, faith, fearless, grace, gravel roads, life, love, old maps, passion, postmark, restless, spirit, truth, wandering
a sudden bloom
of autumn brushes –
silver ribbon wrapped
the blue
was pulled atop
my morning stutter –
bled my heart
with thoughts of you
pulled aside
the muddy shoulder
watched as life went streaming by
held for years
the need for saying
let me go –
or let me fly
take of these
these fragile pretties –
something more
beyond the rise
gypsy moon
and blackbird switches –
thorns grown over
sweet goodbyes
prop the window
up with promise –
drifting past
the place once knew
eighteen shades of red
to sunday –
somewhere now
they grieve the truth
bible verses
tattooed scripture –
rings my wrist
reminders still
of where the perfume
crossed my longing –
drunken skin –
impatient will
stolen clovers
luck for nothing –
crushed beneath my naked toes
searching signs
a black horizon –
start the wind
and let me go
…
tornadoday 
Oh my, I feel the pain of stitches pulled apart, and an open wound once again. But it is pain that keeps our awareness of life and love more acute. This is beautiful, Bobbie, and it brought back the memory of a similar pain. The words of this poem are so beautiful. Love, Dee
Oh, Dee. All the way home, I thought of how this didn’t exactly turn out as I wanted, and by the time I reached the keyboard, I knew where the changes had to come. I suppose it’s much like the stitches, time is a tide. One day we look down, and we’re amazed at how much of our hurt is gone. And yes, I am reminded of something my parents said often when I was little ~ if it hurts, it’s getting better. 🙂 I don’t know whether that’s true, but I do know that we don’t miss what we don’t love………. And that which hurts us is the same thing that heals us. Thank you, Dee. I hope you like the changes. ~ Much love to you, Bobbie
Yes, Bobbie, reading again, I do like the changes — with gypsy moon and blackbird switches inserted. Thank you for the thought that “that which hurts us is the same thing that heals us”. How true, even though it is difficult to realize in the midst of the pain…. with lots of love, Dee
….few things are easy in the midst of anything 🙂
…sometimes truth held deep inside is what forces pain to the surface.
xo
Paul
I’d almost bet that you’re right……..sometimes our hurt is merely our soul adjusting to accommodate the pieces that are missing…….. 😉 And that’s not a bad thing! Thank you, Paul. ~ Love, Me
…and I’d almost bet that we’re both right.
xo
What once has witnessed candles melting to breaths racing is now weeping a chosen destiny…O’ Bobbie the way you breathed the pain those times hold, made pain embellish itself to taste it nice…
& by the way your parents were right; remember Mother Teresa’s found Paradox: if you love till it hurts, there’ll be no more hurt but more love”…
Peace & Light
O, yes, Mira, such is the paradox. We must love no matter what. There is no ‘but’ for the only true answer is to love – without thought for more or want for less – to love for the sake of loving. If we stop loving because of hurt, then we are focused on the wrong thing (and surely we’ll attract more of that which we focus on). But if we love, then always love will find us…….always. 🙂 Thank you, my dear one. You always make my spirit smile! ~ Love you, Bobbie
“bled my heart with thoughts of you”, one of the most beautiful lines i have ever read, you captured sweet longing in a single stroke of genius, and yet you always do. As i read your poem i felt like i was being romanced by every word and its individual life’s essence. Love in our lives takes many turns but always returns to its place of origin whether it was in this life or another…we never lose its original DNA footprint. For it will always be a part of our spirit’s essence. Singularly beautiful and sweetly divine!
You say it well. I’ve known many who refuse to even speak a name aloud, spouting evil and bitterness to love that ‘went bad’. In truth, if love doesn’t work, it wasn’t love. For love is always love. It only stops being love when we start giving it rules and thinking of it as a possession. It stops being love when we stop being loving. We should always love and let love go with us, giving us joys and strength long after the moss has grown over the words. ~ Love to you, Wendell, always. ~ Bobbie
romancing the pain is dancing into being of love
for as you say, we cannot miss what we have not known….
I will not miss the pain, but because of it, I have such love gained…
I was stitching on a quilt of shades of blue as you pulled me in once again….
I rode the waves of pain I think we know so well, but as always we see the love that created such pain…how can we not move through pain with a smile, even if its sad sometimes…
I love this Bobbie…as always you move words through me….
Take care…
)0(
love you always
me
And I am fortunate to have done such, dear Maryrose, for always I remind you of the smile rather than the tears…….. Love is worth every cost for without it, what purpose in living? ~ Love you, Bobbie