here on earth ~

30 Saturday Jun 2012

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I wonder if they’ve noticed
there’s a hole in paradise –
and all that choose
to walk across
shall tread immortal skies.

I wonder if they’ve noticed
the golden
turning green –
where grass uprooted pavement
and oceans pushed between.

I wonder if they’ve noticed
angels are come
to earth
and all we’ve wanted lingers
within this chosen birth.

I wonder if they’ve noticed
the freedoms in letting go –
how loving arms
shall bring us in
beyond the world we know.

I wonder if they’ve noticed ~
always is growing
still –
to strain against
the seams of time –
the essence of our will.

I wonder – how I wonder
whether heaven is here or there –
how much
of all we long to touch ~
is found in love we share.

gypsy to yellow ~

30 Saturday Jun 2012

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I walked down the bed
was yesterday’s rising –
the creek sits in stillness
ten feet below
and waits for redemption
a sky filled with shudders –
tears bringing heaven
to save us again
falling the sorrows
stained in the passing –
burning my feet
with the pangs of goodbye

thirst keeps me begging
dreamed of an ocean
and seas without ceasing
I go there each night
as the paper is peeling
and windows sweat demons
crickets come in
by the way of the floor
nightbirds are crying
faith to willows
don’t fall (I will catch you)
before the moon rise

slow now the dancer
of gypsy to yellow –
as petals are folded
in prayer to the day –
deliver us whole
from the heat of your passing
drown us in loving
tears to our pain

Author’s Note: Yesterday, Nashville was the hottest place in the United
States, breaking a previous record from 1952. It was 109. When I left out
for lunch (even though I parked in the shade), my car was reading a temp
of 122. The earth cracks beneath the stare of the sun.

make you someday ~

29 Friday Jun 2012

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I knew you on Monday
loved you on Tuesday –
by Wednesday
you’d taken ahold of my heart
Thursday was pancakes
and warm maple syrup
By Friday – we planned
for the pulling apart

Saturday came
with the crushing of thunders –
erasing my fears
with your charms
Sunday I swore
you were nothing worth keeping
but laughed
as you rolled in my arms

A week of forever –
a lifetime made over
to fit in the place where the lies
used to be
Smelling of cedar
I kept every treasure
and wondered if ever –
you’d happen to me

Splinters and sweetgum
stars for the taking
Wrap me in Monday –
the first I dreamed of
Tell me you’re leaving
but stay for the morning –
lest night make you someday
the Tuesday I loved

breezeway ~

29 Friday Jun 2012

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to come along
as I was called
(sometimes before the sunrise)
and working then
for ways to understand

confessions of another sin
of wanting more
than lifetimes –
with reason to remember
where I’ve been

as quiet stirs
the midnight ’round
I wait up with the wonder
as sure will come
the dream where (still) I live

the house
the yard
the leaning porch
chickens never aging
(I wonder to the places they belong)

who’s to say
and what of me
could tell (and not sound foolish)
to know each step
and where the stone is gone

my hammer weighs
against my breast –
the barn door needs repairing
(and once or twice
the gate’s come off the hinge)

breezes blow me north and south
most nights –
right through the middle
roosters sit in rusty trees
and curse the early sun

splintered rails
and knee-deep weeds –
fruit jars filled with wishes
dancing rooms
(no need for shoes)
the rent has all been paid

I can’t be sure
the neighbors watch
my coming back for going –
were not for grace
I’d leave the night
for home

waiting for when ~

29 Friday Jun 2012

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wherever I was
I knew you were here –
illusion made sweeter
by longing and wind
breathed into being by places imagined
my soul was just waiting for when –

a change in the weather
a storm on the morning –
lights sworn to meet
somewhere down the road
forgotten the nothing
was there before heaven
something worth having
– was just past the sun

for only a moment
(tho nobody noticed)
making our way to eternity’s shore
but lost to the route
we had taken (together) –
the tides we were moving
to oceans below
the dream of returning
to know you again

for another –
a glimpse
of a far-away comet
moving much slower in search of a star
would never be lost
or sworn to remembrance
when the reasons
were come –
the night fell away

discovered as stones
smoothed by the waters
how natural their love for the sand –
surrounded by diamonds
coral and snowflakes
daydreams
of warm afternoons
and another time painted
in shades of forever
ripples of purple
turned green by the light

were curled
as a ribbon
and kept ‘neath the bed

moonlight
and mystery –
ten thousand legions
lives separated by promise
to come
across this abyss
to the place we were started
another sun burning –
two flames into one

spare me ~

29 Friday Jun 2012

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spare these hands
the writer’s cramp – retracing
broken promise
spare these eyes
the hurt that they have seen
spare this heart
an emptiness (for reasons I can’t say)
that I might tell of autumn skies
and stars that burned away

spare these words a lack of rhyme
curs’ed for a reason
as destinies retold
of lives gone by
spare this soul the winter’s cold –
without a time of touching
a kinder place
to lay me down –
and will to wonder why

hands (now to hold) ~

28 Thursday Jun 2012

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of all that I’ve known
and places passed over
on the way to become
who I am –
there are moments (so sweet)
I can barely remember
without breaking down
o’er their beauty

and the truth reconciling
to seasons of light
writing my verse to the dark
speaking in whispers
as hands (now to hold)
where others were passed
by the wind to the sun

days counting more
than a measure of breaths
words spilled to pages
we kept
dreams came around
to remember my name
as moments were stretched
‘cross forever (one day)

no less for the wanting
eternity seemed
but a start on the way to begin

lines trace the edges
of some not forsaken
of all I have loved
to the map of my soul
no matter the distance
a thought bears me still
to the places I am
bound to thee

28 Thursday Jun 2012

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Friends, I hope you’ll welcome a friend of mine to the site. Three years ago, he was given a new heart. Every day, we’re given chances to use ours. Is that not the meaning of the words, ‘well done, my good and faithful servant’? Thank you. ~ My love, Bobbie

PapaBear's avatarCéad Míle Fáilte

A rose dropped into the water

drifts southward in the current

to a place of dreams and memories

*************************************************

A Rose and Lace

There’s always something here

Holding you to me,

Nothing I can touch or hear

Nothing I can see.

It comes from somewhere deep inside

From where tender memories start

Where feelings such as these abide

And bridge the mind and heart.

It’s like you’ve always been there,

Your love will never leave,

A scent of rose in salty air

And lace upon your sleeve.

*****************************************************************

In description, I am an anachronism, a dreamer of dreams based in reality, a skeptical optimist, impractically practical.

I love the world around me, but despise what certain groups of people are doing to it.

I am a writer, a poet, a painter who enjoys photography, a hobbyist of many facets, gardening, making jewelry, fishing,

building furniture, or anything out of wood, and anything that will…

View original post 151 more words

family ~

27 Wednesday Jun 2012

Posted by in a time for telling, Poetry, Storytelling

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Almost three years ago, I decided it was warm enough to cook outside on the grill. When I opened the lid, however, I found that birds had started a nest beneath the lower grate.

No problem. I got my gloves from the garage and carefully removed the top grate and then the nest, relocating it to the lower branches of a nearby Evergreen.

Two days later, I went to use the grill again and discovered that the eager couple had been at it again, although they hadn’t gotten very far in two days. I was able to just clean what bit of straw and paper they had out without much trouble. That was Wednesday.

The following Sunday, I tried again and surprised the happy couple in the midst of putting the finishing touches on their nest. They froze in mid-activity when I opened the lid. I quickly shut it, and stood for several moments with my hand on top – listening for signs of distress.

That was three years ago. I haven’t used the grill since, and instead, each Spring I sit in my kitchen and watch the growing family of wrens making multiple trips to and from the fields, the trees, and the yard. They have quite successfully traded in their simple nest for a two story townhouse with loft.

When I am lounging on the patio in the summer, they are continuously in and out, and I occasionally catch them peeking out from one of the side air holes. While lying in the sun, there always a wonderful chatter coming from inside the grill. I convince myself that I am the topic of many a discussion – “she’s the one.”

Last Sunday after a stressful morning, I carried lemonade to the back patio and watched as the parents made trip after trip to the yard, the trees, the field (anywhere there were treats to be found) – listening to the eager chatter each time they returned, to go again. In no time at all, I’d forgotten the reason for my distress.

I love them and hardly miss the grill at all!

who are you
with feathers proud
come spread your home
to mine
as brothers
sisters
all the same –
within this one
divine