• About
  • Proof

tornadoday

~ …might I be found in words I leave behind

tornadoday

Category Archives: Storytelling

survived the falling ~

01 Thursday Apr 2021

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality, Storytelling

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

blessings, death, life, memory from the fall, patient soul, reminders, soul memory, spirit home, truth

from the coming back
for going ~
for lessons learned between
for lives that never knew
where grace has been

let these
these mortal yearnings –
flow as sand before the grail
as words survived the falling
another soul to tell

will then
the fond aroma
of a meadow fresh with bloom
fill my heart with longing –
my breath with
sweet perfume

lest I plead myself
another ~
or declare a final truce
to come when spring is over
and I’ve forgotten you

. . .

sunday after all ~

26 Friday Mar 2021

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality, Storytelling, verse

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

a light on the porch, carry me home, forgotten path, journey, life, love, memory, time

the path is worn
as if o’er time –
the way might be erased
tho flowers bloom each Sunday
after all
midnight yearns
and I have learned –
tis not for me to squander
the hope for one more
morning –
wherever promise falls

each time
I think I might be gone
I find the door ajar –
locks once held the windows
rusted now
lights I thought would never burn
stream a golden pasture
echoes ring
remember me –
should e’er your heart
allow

. . .

familiar sunrise ~

10 Wednesday Mar 2021

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

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

age, dream, home, life, love, my house, pieces of me, returning to a home we never left, spirit memory, story, time

what share would I give
of a life fully lived
another life to recall
arms reaching out
from the shadows –
words cut short
by the fall

a house settled back
on the edge of a wood
smoke in the air
in my eyes
steps from my watch
at the window –
dawns a familiar
sunrise

would e’er creation
remember me whole
to places I loved long ago
memories tease
at the edge of my reaching
of something
I already know

Author’s Note: Of those who know me well, a few know me better. They know of the house that has been a part of my dreams since I was a child. As of late, they come less frequent (I have a theory on that) but still. I’ve never been there, and yet I know it, and could find it if chance put me within a mile or two. I know the steps from the porch to the fence, the soft old rose print of wallpaper in the smallest bedroom, the way the wind howls through the trees at night. A dear friend who I shared my stories with once commented that she and I should take a trip in search of ‘the house’. “I’m sure it’s near here, and we could find out who actually lives there.” I froze. She didn’t understand at all. “I live there.”

In another life. I am in the kitchen as morning climbs the steps.  I dance beneath a faded bulb, and worry not for sleepless nights in which I am lost (I am found).  I love.

But in this life, in those moments that reach my soul, I pause. I place my hand against a window, upon someone’s heart. I close my eyes (a snapshot) and whisper “remember this”. ❤

. . .

better than most ~

18 Thursday Feb 2021

Posted by tornadoday in Rambling, spirituality, Storytelling

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

family, forgiveness, knowing, love, remembrance, truth, understanding, wealth

At the recent passing of my aunt, I am reminded of all the things I love and loved about her – how she enjoyed blueberry syrup, her love for coffee, the sound of her laughter.  I also reflect on the things I’ve surely gathered from her – my backbone, my stature, my love for pepper on cantaloupe, and the way I hold my hand over my heart when something touches me.

I’m humbled in the blessing of our lives clipped together, these ‘things’ that we share (we carry, we keep).   But, I am also grateful to know about them – to know what she loved as well as how she loved.

We should want for nothing more than to have someone truly know us – what we dream, what we grieve, what we love (when the dark is night and the ground so very cold).

I am reminded of an instance some years ago. My husband and I had a pretty deep discussion about my assertion that he might not know me as well as he thought. To prove my point I asked, ‘what’s my favorite color’.

Let me say here that I’m painfully aware that I am far more observant than most people. I listen for every hint of the story. If you mention some author to me over coffee in January, don’t be surprised when you receive a signed edition for Christmas. It’s what I do, and yet, I like to think myself forgiving of those who aren’t made the same.

But I also want to believe that those who love us most should be inclined to know us better than most.

Anyway back to the story. This ‘conversation’ occurred during a time when my brother-in-law traveled quite a bit and as a result, my sister and her little ones stayed with us a few nights each week. It so happened that they arrived just as the above discussion was ending.

Cameron, her two year-old son, was beaming as he came through the door, declaring he had a present for me (sure payment for the fact that I always had one for him). His little hand was clutched tight in front of him as I knelt down, excited for sure, and asked what it might be. As he slowly uncurled his fingers, I could see that a red M&M had melted all over his hand. O wow, I said.  Then he looked straight at me (through me) and said ‘I got it for you because it’s your favorite color.’ ❤️

Even now, I’m smiling just as I did in that moment………….

I pray that I never have cantaloupe and pepper without thinking of my aunt Lillian. And when I die, God help the poor soul who dares to bury me in blue…

might that you remember
the color of my eyes –
the way my fingers
warmed against your skin
how I take my coffee
and where my weakness lies
what I love –
for who I’ll come
again

. . .

stories unremembered ~

05 Friday Feb 2021

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality, Storytelling

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

death, discontent, forgiveness, lies, love, peace, places we were loved, sorrow, story, trouble, truth, war

from these pieces
will they ever
understand the way we were
all this fighting over nothing
will they wonder –
what was for
of the buried
of the broken
will the weary
be misled
when moss is
grown around us –
will they deem our savior dead
will they shake their heads
in questioning
of when and why we came –
and gather near our remnants
to worry o’er each name
rewritten there
committed every discontent
to stone
for stories unremembered
but to these who weep alone
will our beauty
be forgotten
by a world who never knew
the ways we came
to understand
the mystery of truth

. . .

bound to story –

04 Thursday Feb 2021

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality, Storytelling

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

a jealous moon, a name upon my lips, acceptance, all I know, and still, becoming me, life, love, seeing in the dark, wisdom

when from our dreams
wisdom comes
life to empty shelves
a blessing to the seeker
with want
for something else

leather cords
and parchment sleeves
are poor disguise for truth
when given place –
a willing page or two

purpose bound to story
has suffered long the pen
as lifetimes passed
with will to wake
again

who for this
was meaning sought
line by precious line
what sweet desire
awaited us
this time

. . .

breath before rising ~

18 Monday Jan 2021

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality, Storytelling, verse

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

grace, lessons, life, love, memory, nature, seasons, soul speak, time

in the swell of the tide
a breath before rising –
in the roll of the sands
neath the shore
I’ve noticed the rivers
run deeper than blood –
and the trees
taller still than before

I’ve reckoned the sun
how she leans to the right
when no one is watching
but me
how she warms to my skin
as home she remembers –
a lantern set high
on the sea

sometimes morning
awakens the night –
with whispers of promise undone
prickled by weeds
berries and blossom –
fireflies skimming
the pond

bitterly sweet
scattered transgressions –
as who for another
moment would trade
dust from a memory
of life as we knew –
to wait for a night
in the shade

. . .

to my soul ~

13 Wednesday Jan 2021

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality, Storytelling

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

friends, grace, knowing, life, love, memory, morning, seeing in the dark, stars, time, truth, universe, wisdom

It’s true that I have nearly 175 items in my WordPress draft folder, and on days when I need to, those provide a comfort or a kick-start to other words. I considered them first thing today, while I searched for the warmest socks in an over-stuffed basket. But when I got to my desk, I found something else, and there…..other words that needed no push in becoming.

I’m convinced that it’s not indigestion or a storm or anything quite so mundane that wakes me in the night. When it happens, I roll over, look at the clock and typically go right back to sleep. But not without smiling at the reassurance that I take in this simple (though some might call infuriating) occurrence.

While there are vast numbers of people who understand the complexity (and simplicity) of the universe, few put absolute faith in the fact that it is constantly working for us (almost like a personal assistant type of universe). That’s my ‘belief’ – that the universe is up all night trying to figure out just what I need and when I need it in order to make sure that I get it.

So, when I wake up at 4:08 and can’t be sure why, I am confident that someone somewhere has spoken my name. It’s also why sometimes at 2:03 a.m., I wake and speak other names. Yeah, I know you’re shaking your head (or some of you are). And that’s well enough, but you’re surely missing out on an amazing part of this life (your life).

But back to today. What you know so far involves socks and waking up at 4:08 a.m. Not too exciting even to a boring story.

But once I arrived at my desk, I had a message through messenger from a dear friend, who, in the midst of his two o’clock run from Houston to Dallas, was stopping for breakfast at some ‘hole in the wall’ diner just outside of Austin. And over eggs and coffee, he thought of me and wondered what my day held in store. His note came in at 4:12 a.m.

Think what you want. That crazy girl in Tennessee couldn’t possibly be onto something. But be advised that the crazy girl in Tennessee is definitely onto something, and likely has more help with life before she opens her eyes than you get all day from your not so ‘weebie-weebie’ sources.

In the meantime, my expectations for the day ahead just shot up, and I smile now, grateful for the universe, for Hank, and for places that serve hot coffee and fresh eggs when needed most. Somehow, even in the midst of crazy, the universe remembers what we prayed for and what we need most (even when we don’t realize how strong the need).

The universe remembers us home.

had I laid awake
a moment more –
to wish upon a star
called his name
aloud into the dark
gathered soft as morning
as light across
my room
surrendered to remembrance
these pieces of a dream
where I am still made humble
by the moon

had I drifted
as nightbirds
sang of trees so far away
of lifetimes
I have no excuse to know
to waltz
along the shoreline
in strands of blue and gold
to wake with sand
pressed sweetly
to my soul

. . .

fell together ~

26 Thursday Nov 2020

Posted by tornadoday in perfect country song, Poetry, Rambling, Storytelling, verse

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

breath, fate, history, let me, morning, remembering, seasons, stars, story, time, truth

we fell together
one night in march
when winds still warned
of an aching heart
you went home
and I pretending
of another day
we’d fall again

last night I slept
in a field of sand –
eighteen miles
of forgotten land
married you somewhere
in between
our first goodbye
and a place of dreams

you made plans
of a life beyond
the getting over –
the getting on
I sewed stars
from last night’s sleep
never worried long
for one to keep
faceless names
and ageless babies –
years between
the time we made
beneath the dark
of winter sky
another day
one more goodbye

one more hello
and a field remembers
seeds put down
one late September
for every dawn
there’s another sun
never meant to cheat
the road we’re on

faceless names
and ageless babies –
years between
the time we made
you make breakfast
and I’ll sleep in –
wrapped in stories
we fall again

. . .

evermore to spend ~

04 Wednesday Nov 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality, Storytelling, verse

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

beginnings, birth, death, destiny, life, love, memory, seasons, spirit home, story, time, truth

longing
paints a picture
with colors still I bleed
crimson red raspberry
melon sweet
harbingers
of stories rent
lessons yet to learn
lives are reconstructed
over tea

promise
I was sworn to keep
with words
forgotten now
whispers of a truth
I put away
are breathed anew each morning
and folded into rhyme –
evermore to spend
another day

moments
gather silent
in dust beneath my bed
circles to the table
souvenirs
of seasons
unremembered
before I knew your name –
lives I traded
just to find you here

. . .

← Older posts

Recent Posts

  • sworn to find ~
  • no me without you ~
  • mourned by the tides ~
  • memory of me ~
  • survived the falling ~
tai game ve dien thoai Để Tai Game Ve Dien Thoai – Tải Game Về Điện Thoại các bạn chỉ cần truy cập vào trang Game4m.Net – Đây là trang web game Tai Game Ve Dien Thoai – Tải Game Về Điện Thoại cực lớn với nhiều thể loại game dành cho mọi dòng điện thoại : Android , Java , IOS ,BB các dòng máy Trung Quốc Các game được Tai Game Ve Dien Thoai – Tải Game Về Điện Thoại bao gồm các thể loại : Nhập vai , chiến thuật , game trí tuệ , Game đánh bài , Online , Offline được cập nhật rất đầy đủ và phong phú . tai game game dien thoai game dien thoai Tải Game Dien Thoai – Game Điện Thoại cực hay tại Game4m.Net thế giới của Game Dien Thoai – Game Điện Thoại di động Tại đây các bạn có thể tải Game Dien Thoai – Game Điện Thoại miễn phí với những phiên bản mới nhất , sự kiện liên tục được cập nhật

Archives

  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012
  • July 2012
  • June 2012
  • May 2012
  • April 2012
  • March 2012

Blog Stats

  • 103,835 hits

Direction

a time for telling Awards folklore Haiku home perfect country song Poetry Rambling Soapbox spirituality Storytelling Uncategorized verse

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Blogroll

  • Discuss
  • Get Inspired
  • Get Polling
  • Get Support
  • Learn WordPress.com
  • Theme Showcase
  • WordPress Planet
  • WordPress.com News

Blog Stats

  • 103,835 hits

Blogs I Follow

  • Benjamin Grossman
  • Discover
  • Walt's Writings
  • Silent Fingers
  • House of Heart
  • vimal samuel
  • Whosoever Will, May Come
  • Exploring the epiphany
  • Seasonings
  • Revelation
  • MyWorldsInWords
  • yelena's poetry
  • Now & Then
  • Blonde in Flares
  • Ziyaad poetry
  • The Reluctant Poet
  • Dr. Eric Perry
  • Broken roads of Destiny
  • grandfathersky
  • Randomreasoning

Blog at WordPress.com.

Benjamin Grossman

Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic

Discover

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

Walt's Writings

Poetry about Life, Love, Music by Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet

Silent Fingers

~ journey of a rose scented ink ~

House of Heart

vimal samuel

Whosoever Will, May Come

Faithful Believers, Are There Any Left?

Exploring the epiphany

Seasonings

Just a little poetry...

Revelation

MyWorldsInWords

View my worlds

yelena's poetry

Now & Then

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

Blonde in Flares

Flared and prepared.

Ziyaad poetry

Just a cup of poetry and cookies

The Reluctant Poet

A Discovery of Enlightening Insights, Information, Humor, Writings and Musings

Dr. Eric Perry

Psychology to Motivate | Inspire | Uplift

Broken roads of Destiny

“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.” — Maya Angelou

grandfathersky

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

Randomreasoning

Making a connection when everything is connected

Cancel

 
Loading Comments...
Comment
    ×