Tags
becoming, cherokee, connection, dreams, fearless, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, love, memory, passion, postmark, reason, spirit, spirituality, strength, truth, wandering, wisdom
lifetimes becoming
the only way how –
I could know
all I know
in the presence
of now
melodies played
on the strings of my heart
music I lost long ago
purple wallpaper
and who ever sleeps
in blankets the color
of snow
mercy and mayflies
failed me before –
but somewhere they wait
up the night
cause for no worry
and work with no pay –
dreaming
becoming
a winter in flight
signs on the road
are covered with vine
poison –
and something less sweet
berries and beautiful
go now their way –
split by the path of before
we could meet
paradise deals
in permissions to love –
moments when all becomes clear
names burned away
by the warm glow of life
fingers worn down
by the tracing of years
pieces forgotten
stitched into one –
mornings grown close
to the little white lie
told when nothing makes sense
time leaves a scar
on the coming back safe
lifetimes lived o’er –
our lowly defense
tiny gold teaspoons
blossomed to light –
are home to the songs
(without words)
I recite
…
tornadoday 
Some very beautiful images. But the melodies on the strings of your heart are playing beautiful music.
Thank you, dearest Stephen. I am certain you know me well. ~ Much love, Bobbie
Wonderful poetry, Bobbie! I especially loved these two lines:
paradise deals
in permissions to love –
sooooo gorgeous!! x
Thank you so much, Angela. It’s so ironic that I was thinking of you just this morning. A friend brought me some beautiful notecards designed by a photographer friend of hers – the friend’s name was Angela. For a moment, I wondered if it might be you…. And here you are. Thank you so much. ~ Love, Bobbie
Ahhh…. we are always spiritually connected, no matter where in the universe we are :-). x
absolutely……..lucky us………:-D
“fingers worn down by the tracing of years” O’ Bobbie were they actually worn down tracing Years or Colors lies take each time!!
Love & Light
….actually, in my head at the time, I was thinking of someone tracing fingers over dates chiseled to stone…. but your thought is just as real……ink rubbed away in the searching for voice…… Thank you, Mira. ~ My love always, Bobbie
‘are home to the songs, without words i recite’. This line sums up your poem so beautifully bringing the whole together! The notes of your heart’s words are the songs we all love to hear…for they deliver such insight into ourselves…leaving us to all know we are all the same, feeling equally the hurts and pains of love over the course of our lives. We of creative hearts are still really blessed, because we always have each other to love and embrace though far away…the moments we share always bring us closer together in spirit and heart. Much love to you always…and smile! God bless!
If my simple efforts give you that, dear Wendell, then surely it was their purpose from the start. Regardless of what I am reading, it is the words that inspire me to think (to dig deeper) that move me the most….for certainly, they were left for me. Thank you, my dear friend. Much love to you as well ~ Bobbie