delivered from rust ~

17 Thursday Apr 2014

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

Tags

breath, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, love, memory, old maps, passion, postmark, remembered to home, restless, spirit, strength, the way back to you, truth, understanding, value, wandering

were there more
than one season
a flood before draught
a whisper of knowing
lines never
crossed

in the telling
compelling me
backwards to place
recorded my will –
on wallpaper scrolls

history layered
by news of goodbye
to welcome
the best of me
home
delivered from rust
the remains of a sigh
a moment denied
the pulling apart –
is worn by my soul
into dust

as longing recalls me
– remember
these steps
in returning
of time to the shelf
as lies from the meaning
of all we had learned –
blessings
to follow us
back through the dark

candles warmed
as smoke rings to glass
the pull of the moon
looking in

were ever another
a reason to die –
seeds I was planting
somewhere
before spring

fashioning shadow
from passionate bud
beholding in me –
their purpose became –
blackberry
thistle
and where have you gone
crushed in the leaving
by sweet
muscadine –

awakened to fall
by a dream

. . .

https://tornadoday.wordpress.com/2012/09/24/4862/

https://tornadoday.wordpress.com/2013/12/06/a-way-becoming/

https://tornadoday.wordpress.com/2013/01/09/last-i-was/

hands to watch ~

11 Friday Apr 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, Storytelling

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

bliss, breath, connection, destiny, dreams, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, living, love, memory, my way back to you, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, relationship, spirit, spirituality, strength, understanding, wonder

how sweet
where springs immortal
some provision for the light
an extra sheet
with blankets down the hall
a book of story
read to me –
one night
when morning came
listening
was I
so sure to fall

in wonder unexpected
a corner
dusted bare –
else distance will
my soul to disappear
how many times
were hands
to watch –
a sweeping into day
love is left a promise
– silence I can
hear

. . .

wishes and string ~

03 Thursday Apr 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, Rambling, verse

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

becoming, breath, connection, conscious consciousness, death, destiny, divine this, dreams, faith, fearless, feelings, grace, knowledge, living, love, meaning, memory, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, relationship, resurrection, spirit, strength, thought, truth, understanding

started from nothing
wishes and string
were tied to my branches
and weaved
into light
a memory set
as a whisper to kiss
was carried somewhere
by the wind

cleave from these veins
a destiny lost
to long ago summers
a girl of nineteen
was dreamed into waking
one night by the stars
as love unremembered
to breathing
again

. . .

a light we never knew ~

31 Monday Mar 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling

≈ 18 Comments

Tags

breath, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, dreams, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, life, living, love, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, restless, returning home, sacred intimacy, soul touch, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, value, woman

shall I break
as thunderclouds
above the place you dream
or pull my winter shawl
across your grave
forgiven all
but just the one
betrayal to my love
a dawning unencumbered
by my name
shares the fate
of children
as light we never knew
was come of breath
an early death
to save
as hunger from
our last embrace
reclaimed to wilderness
remembers us
to silence
we became

. . .

just beyond ~

24 Monday Mar 2014

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

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

breath, connection, conscious consciousness, dreams, faith, familiar unfamiliar, fearless, grace, gravel roads, home, knowledge, life, living, love, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, restless, spirit, spirituality, undefined wilderness, understanding, value, wandering, wisdom

end of day, end of time
both have now arrived
we must believe
love will outlast us
somehow, mysteriously
cast beyond what we have always
understood, in the ethereal
spheres, in the chaos
of a million heartbeats
rhyming here and now
with a splash of eternity’s wish
and in the single moment
everything stops to change
irrevocably, will you stifle a tear
as my hand grows cold
and my fears fade into
your solitude?

we cannot speculate
about dreams between the sun and moon
starlight’s secrets or the depths
of a single human soul
life is a tiny frozen fragment of an iceberg
what remains invisible coerces our faith
into a destiny called beyond
we hear our heartbeat articulate
its incessant pumping red emotion
recalling the flush of today’s triumph
or yesterday’s merciless failure
we puff our lungs with stale air, and mask
a fleeting wish for a hermit’s habitation
a place where dreams stimulate us,
and spin desire into a worldly orbit
like a crazy laughing merry-go-round —
will we never learn to calculate
the distance between two words of love?

unremembering ~

17 Monday Mar 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, Storytelling

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

aligned, bliss, breath, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, dreams, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, home, knowledge, living, love, nature, old maps, passion, poetry, relationship, restless, sacred intimacy, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, wandering

was said
there’ll be another time
I wonder if that’s true
when I will find you waiting here
when I shall come to you
when I will read
and you will write
our words will spill the same
how many lives may pass as none
to wonder why we came

you feel it now
I know it’s real –
this longing in my soul
was made for words and words will come
how is that you know
I read it once (you taught me well)
how could that ever be
another time (of all we know)
a place of destiny
there are words
and there are words
that’s how I’m bound to you
as breath to breath
as earth to sun
I know this much is true
I’ll find you when
we touch
we love
we dream

I love that smile
it’s been a while
through times of disbelief
you knew me then
and now again –
the smell of burning leaves
would rivers know
the way to home –
will bring you back to me

. . .

if tomorrow ~

14 Friday Mar 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

bliss, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, fearless, forgiveness, grace, knowledge, life, love, memory, old maps, passion, reason, relationship, spirit, star crossed, strength, truth, understanding, woman

my love, let me become your ghost
a trust more discreet
than your shadow, let me follow you
over pathways deserted by human tears
o, to reach for this solitary happiness
let me grow old agelessly within the lifetime
of your images that steal at my breath every night
there, in your eyes the past spins, forever, hesitant
and in my undesired freedom I will sing
of mourning the borders of love’s embrace
if tomorrow
you stop loving me

. . .

2008

forgotten voices ~

13 Thursday Mar 2014

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

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

becoming, breath, connection, death, destiny, faith, family, fearless, forgiveness, grace, knowledge, life, living, love, memory, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, restless, southern, spirit, spirituality, strength, truth, understanding, value, wandering, woman, words without voice

I have waited. To speak with you again; we have forgotten our voices. Printed words are rare, sterile and devoid of intention.

You have another life beyond our memories. Beyond the years that unite us solemnly like family.

We were once close, like siblings, like lovers, like keepers of secrets. Monks praying, tending to the garden of their Eden, respectful of life’s gifts. We carefully removed the thorns and weeds of the space surrounding us; there were many. We planted borders of flowers to bloom in all seasons. Taking us in each direction we imagined for our lives. Perhaps that garden is still colorful, year round. Even today. Perhaps other people walk on our stones.

I grow older, more silent, wearing the years like a monk’s cloak, although I have left the prayers for others. You never understood. Like an old oak, my limbs grow stiff, waiting for the fatal wind to break down their last vestige of strength. I leaned on you for so many years. Time’s crutches bear me less and less well. Before I die, will we speak again?

Leave me to the ocean breeze, my ashes dusting high cliffs of heather. Will you come for me then?

a forest of time
saluting through dead branches
another full moon

. . .

places I been going ~

02 Sunday Mar 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

becoming, blessings, breath, conscious consciousness, dreams, fearless, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, living, love, more, nature, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, seasons, southern, spirit, spirituality, still, strength, truth, understanding, value, wandering, wonder

been wearing down
and turned around
which way
the way I’m bound
come Sunday
one more place
I lay before

as lace
against the maple
knots along the floor
here I’ll be
tho I won’t be no more

for miles beyond
the edges
years beyond my own
to know
as I been knowing
every road
will take me home

when nights
of blackened cinder
days to burn my skin
beneath your sighs
I touch the skies
o breath
and there again

a song escapes
the rafters
a feather on the breeze
the sweet sashay
of glories
on the rise
coffee warm –
a red tail sails
the trees

a moment
as no other
come into
I find you still
in places I been going
will the knowing
heart reveal

a dream I knew
awakes me new
again

. . .

lessons in the letting ~

27 Monday Jan 2014

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

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, competition, contest, destiny, faith, fearless, grace, knowledge, life, living, old maps, passion, poetry, publishing, reason, restless, reward, spirit, spirituality, strength, truth, understanding, value, wisdom

Over the weekend, I was involved in the setup of a contest for aspiring writers. It’s an association I’ve had for many years, and almost without exception, I find myself speaking to writers about their talents. I’d like to think that I am both kind and encouraging with that obligation, but I also have come to another realization.

Writing is an art, regardless of whether you are the best. There is one (or maybe millions more) who will find worth in your words. There, your reward. As writers, we can be discouraged when measuring ourselves against another. I suspect that’s true for everything, and not just writing. But the truth is we measure ourselves against a very small population of the world – those who write. Instead, might we measure ourselves against the whole of creation, knowing ours is a gift that needs not publication to be.

The contest I am currently judging has about twenty entries. I refuse to give awards for more than first place, for every writer should assume that if they didn’t win, they were second. And yet, even if it were known that someone was in last place, that still places them ahead of the thousands who never thought themselves talented enough to enter.

If you are an honor student in high school and choose to attend Georgetown because you want to be a lawyer, you should be prepared that it will be tough because you’re competing with the best. If you attend another university, you might find you do better because you’re not discouraged by the competition. Does it make you any less? Of course not, and if you become discouraged and opt out, then what have you robbed the universe of? Your talents – your one of a kind, unique wonderful talents.

I will likely never pen a best seller, but I write….and there, my joy, my gift continuing – my life eternal. Regardless of the others who share my obsession, I am uniquely wholly me. My weaknesses are my strengths. When I get discouraged (thinking everything I write sounds the same), I remind myself of the one who has never read a thing I’ve written. There, I am new. There, I am only.

There, I win every single time.

. . .