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tornadoday

~ …might I be found in words I leave behind

tornadoday

Category Archives: Soapbox

into the sweet ~

22 Friday Jun 2018

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Soapbox, Storytelling

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

blessings, confession, eternity now, faith, life, love, nature, sacrifice, tales, time

cc5

someone thought
they heard my sigh
above the songbirds streaming
– felt my tears
e’en when
I couldn’t cry

for such as love –
I died one day
in arms
the same embrace as mine
fields of green –
a place where still I lay

some believe
my faith is kept
apart from this confession
– dancing round
an ancient flame
amid the wingeds
burning

a story told
of lifetimes missed –
an evening sun where I remain –
a promise pressed
into the sweet
of moments
without name

. . .

freed ~

13 Wednesday Dec 2017

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Soapbox, Storytelling

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

family, immortality, life, love, reward, riches, soul, story, treasure, truth, what is left when there is nothing left

thepresent

Maybe it’s the rush that is the season, but lately, I’m more and more reminded of the present that is the present.

A friend recently commented that her goal for 2018 was to be wherever her feet were – to be grounded in the now – looking nither forward or back but only to this ‘perfect’ moment – free from the boundaries and ultimate limitations inherent with the others.

As expected, it got me thinking about the present and how wisely (or not) we spend our moments. I’ll readily admit that I love talking about the past. Not in the sense that I speak of it with regret or sorrow, but as part of the larger story – perhaps the place we began, though it might not have appeared so at the time.

The stories are what define us, help us to grow, and in sharing those, we allow others a part of us that exists (like the present) beyond the grasp of past or future.  In my humble opinion, there is no relationship nor circumstance that cannot be made better by four simple words – tell me a story.  In the sharing, the present becomes greater than the depth of a moment, a season, a lifetime.

Of times I spent with my daddy, the gift of being present rewarded me with amazing treasures – parts of him. There were stories I had heard before, but others, I had not. The same is true of my visits with mama. From an ordinary conversation about fishing comes a story I didn’t know.

When she was pregnant with me, she couldn’t work in her daddy’s cafe. Yet, there were days when he needed fish for the restaurant and he took her with him. That part of the story is sweet enough, but there is another part. Because she was expecting, there were times when she grew nauseous or tired. He carried a blanket with him so that she could nap in the bottom of the boat while he fished.

I love that story……a piece of my grandfather who died a month before I was born. A piece of my mother, and a piece of me.

And now, in another way, perhaps a piece of you too.

I never tire the revelation, of the insight into all that matters. When faced with a grieving friend, the simple words, ‘tell me a story about her’ (or him) is enough to alter perspective, allowing us a shared place of memory, intimacy, solace and connection.

In our stories, we are at once a hero and immortal. Where the story remains, so our name, repeated long past the expanse of either past or future.

So, tell me………

when last I dreamed
I lay awake
and wandered unto home
the safe and sweet
embrace
once was you
tell me now
some other time
of who you are
and why
you knew my name
before I thought
to love

. . .

in my dream ~

27 Thursday Jul 2017

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Soapbox

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

almost always, breath, close, life, love, memory, seasons, sometimes, time

sunday find me

in my dream
I sit in a coffee shop
composing haiku –
counting syllables
on caramel fingers
a reactionary in flip-flops
aging white linens
and faded parasols
tourists burning red –
alive in dime store
novels

sunlight see saws
across muddled
pink rimmed skies
whispers fill the street
I order another cappucine
swirling with foam regalia
– my collected sea of
memory

in my dream I am
a mere student of words
stealing minutes
from your sunset
before the moon smiles
o’er nights well remembered
from light years ago
when the stars
were our children

. . .

back again ~

17 Tuesday Dec 2013

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Soapbox

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

cherokee, connection, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, karma, life, passion, reason, relationship, resurrection, spirit, understanding, wandering, wisdom


would for the worst
the rest betray –
the coming back
to wander
would trade for none
the imprint won
by promise torn assunder

reborn again
a lifetime more –
and cast them out
as vile
removed the burden
judgement made
for every firm denial

a dime or so
would three or four
be wealth to one of these
or kindness fit
as words so soft –
each sorrow to release

into this lowly circle
was drawn for us
in time –
forgotten not the reasons
– every coming back
to find

the one to wait
with arms held wide –
eyes are blazing bright
remembered for
another day
beyond this chance
delight

were not for them
or for the clouds
who passed
the way with you –
were angels watching ever
come to know the world
you knew

. . .

weighted ~

02 Thursday May 2013

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Soapbox

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

becoming, connection, dreams, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, life, living, love, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, spirit, strength, truth, understanding, value, wisdom

truth

rumors going
round –
someone noticed love
– but couldn’t say
for sure
it wasn’t less

wearing clothes
that someone chose –
spoke when spoken to
holding yet to reasons
 unconfessed

wrapped in dreams
or so it seemed –
flowers perfumed so
held to names
and places
was thought where love
should go

but somewhere here
are others still
who tell of love’s demise
was rocked
 on planks of cedar
beneath uneven skies

gave a heart
of compass –
would point the ways
to home
forgotten now
the weight of love –
is never waited
long

. . .

another rise ~

22 Friday Mar 2013

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, Soapbox

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

becoming, connection, destiny, fearless, forgiveness, grace, knowledge, life, living, love, memory, old maps, passion, postmark, restless, spirit, truth, understanding, wandering

beginnings

reach into
my waking –
where pages have been stuck
a sleeve of petals
held between my rhyme
guarded as the golden gilt
notes of scribbled
fame –
proof you were
another time I knew

verses
of pretention
seasons folded now –
are stored on shelves
I hardly reach
for more
tho once I thought
to understand
the leaving as you do
longing left
to pages
I can’t lose

hearts were free
to gather these –
graces of permission
time was ne’er to blame
for where we lingered
here a bit
save to flight
the dream of dreams –
another rise to set
burned me into orange
– lay me back
in ruby red

. . .

for wrong the right ~

19 Saturday Jan 2013

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, Soapbox, Storytelling

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

becoming, connection, forgiveness, grace, judgement, life, love, reason, relationship, salvation, spirit, strength, truth, understanding, value, wisdom

our story

what judgements now
the pillow makes –
of those
ten thousand more to break
hush the telling
of what our own –
so busy now the tongue

tary not
on grand design
to make of self the more
by fate
would lay aside the robes
of grace –
and gather yet
the rags of hate

would envy die
or greed consume
the righteous in resounding
how far the victor
falling – was not for wrong
the right

hear this prayer
was only one –
when held a sinner chained
returned to love
by one divine –
let love our truth
reclaim

Author’s Note: In light of this week’s announcements and
headline ‘falls from grace’. We sink no lower than the
moment we bend to pick the stone.  The only story we write is our own.

suspended breathing ~

01 Monday Oct 2012

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, Soapbox

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

connection, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, life, living, love, old maps, open, reason, religion, spirit, spirituality, strength, truth, understanding, wandering, wisdom

I thought much about this before deciding to post. Ultimately, if I am faithful to my own truth, I must to be willing to speak that truth.

As of late, I have hurt others with the mere act of being myself (which I know can be a bit overwhelming at times). If you are among those, then I am truly sorry.  Please know that I would never intentionally hurt anyone.

I realize I am at times too open, and too free and too (too)…. I am quick to disregard love with ten thousand rules as being love at all. I love too much and too deeply and, yes, that means that there are times when I step on toes without meaning to. I sometimes forget that not everyone is the same ~ and certainly most do not see things (especially love) as I do.

I didn’t come to this site to be a part of a political movement or to feed my own ego.  If you don’t like what I write, then tell me or don’t say anything, but please don’t spend your time on words that have no truth. I am not here for praise (not even close).   I’ll only be offended if you go out of your way to be something because you think it’s what I need. If that is what you need, it is here, but I am not that……

I came here to share my words (my ways), and to know others, but if knowing means that either of us cannot speak freely, then what we have earned? What have we gained in the act of trying so hard not offend ~ so hard that, in fact, we never know each other at all?

Whatever you seek, you will find.  If I offended, please forgive.

Take me down
the muddy river ~
wash my sorrows out to sea.
Gather now my words
unsettled ~
for where they live ~
another me.

I will love until they cover
every patch of mortal skin ~
til I’m bound by mossy pages
o’er my verses ~
o’er my sin.

Have I none but this
to offer ~
let me love as unafraid.
What will come of love we garnered
~ what shall be our crown
this day?

somebody’s baby ~

11 Wednesday Jul 2012

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, Soapbox

≈ 19 Comments

Tags

becoming, cherokee, connection, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, life, living, love, memory, nature, old maps, postmark, reason, restless, self, spirit, strength, truth, understanding, value, wandering, wisdom, woman

Denim works better
than satin to soothe me –
t-shirts and bobby socks
shoes I’ve outgrown.
Coffee stirs feelings
of times I spent running –
and I don’t need a sign
to find my way home.

Briar and sassafras –
two kinds of lover.
The one who keeps count
and the one who won’t care –
what’s on for breakfast
of worlds unforgiven.
The roof is still leaking
but it’s warm enough here.

For all that I’ve written
there are pages still waiting –
like the space on the dresser
pearls never laid.
Fruit jars and masons –
tho nothing much matches.
Lacey white linens
I’ve given away.

There are spoons
in the pantry
and uneven tapers –
gates rusted shut
by the way of the bed.
Old maps are kept by the door
in a basket –
and a box full of memory
sleeps neath my head.

Some I can’t touch
for forgetting the reasons –
I kept them at all
of the things that I can’t.

Heaven gets lost
at the mention of leaving –
and there are acres
of promise nobody owns.
Berries grow wild
by the fence (barely standing)
and summer plays hell
with my soul.

Jasmine and lavender
three kinds of daisies –
dried to the line
my blankets to bless.
Hardwood and heartache
are nobody’s business –
as a moment of weakness
to silence confessed.

Life all around
and most barely living –
who I am (someone)
with none to approve.
I’ll sit the night out
as the porch light is fading –
laugh til I cry
and talk til I’m blue.

From the place of my pillow
a view of forever –
and thirty six stars light the ways
I’ve become.

Was a time that I worried
what was thought – what was fated –
and traded (sometimes)
what of me (best) belonged.
But there’s more here
than being (somebody’s baby)
and letting go gave me
a time to hold on.
To what of me mattered
(tadpoles and twilight) –
truths to remember
long after I’m gone.

I rock when I weep
and sing when it’s raining –
I walk when I dream
past the woods (far enough).
Grace never fails
to remind me (of someone)
the girl that I was –
wears the woman I love.

public service announcement ~

01 Friday Jun 2012

Posted by tornadoday in Soapbox

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

knowledge, postmark, reason, resurrection, truth, writing

Just a quick note to my fellow bloggers –
those who follow me and those I follow alike –
The weirdest thing has been happening
the last couple of days –

I will go to great lengths to provide a comment
to various items and click send and *poof* it’s gone –
and not like gone into ‘review for moderation’ but
gone as in GONE (zip).

So I decided to investigate the problem (thinking maybe
it was an XP IE java loop of madness or something)
only to find out that many (seemingly well-adjusted)
people have complained about this very thing in the last
two months –

To verify what I learned, I checked my spam, which
I had emptied just last week, and I had 109 messages –

And you guessed it, quite a few were from you,
my dear friends.

Apparently, if the site believes the comment
is spam, it doesn’t send an email –
it just tosses it in the back of the pantry with the
three year old trail mix and dogfood (for a dog
you don’t even have anymore).

I’m off the recover your comments and reply
to them – and who knows, maybe I’ll end up as a
princess in some far off place like Spamolia!

But if you’re wondering why you aren’t seeing a lot
of comments, you might check to see who’s been
misfiled 😉

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Poetic Thoughts

Benjamin Grossman

Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic

Discover WordPress

A daily selection of the best content published on WordPress, collected for you by humans who love to read.

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Seasonings

Just a little poetry...

Revelation

MyWorldsInWords

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yelena's poetry

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The fears of a girl, the heart of a woman, and everything inbetween...

Blonde in Flares

Flared and prepared.

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Dr. Eric Perry’s Coaching Blog

Motivate | Inspire | Uplift

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grandfathersky

Thoughts and feelings made into words about the world and times in which we live ...

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