i worried not
that grace
would follow –
as ashes fell
to hide the sun
a day of discontent
to cleave
the rite of bliss
would let to be
the memory of
kisses I have kept
– the taste of
one more promise
haunts these
lips
. . .
13 Friday May 2022
Posted Poetry
in06 Tuesday Jul 2021
Posted Poetry, spirituality, Storytelling
inTags
adventure, bliss, daring, dreams, fearless, find me, flight, kiss, mystery, release, remembering, travel
once I prayed
my gypsy ways
would find me in a tent
sweating rhyme-
civility betrayed
swirling madly
laughter bending
with every pulse of light
magic come to steal
my breath
away
fortunes writ
in charcoal –
signed my fate somewhere
gathered up my leaving
blew away
to find you there
dancing neath the timbers
a gypsy firefly
willing me
your company –
as wings recalled
to flight
. . .
03 Monday May 2021
Posted Poetry, spirituality, verse
inTags
age, blessings of the heart, bliss, divine intimacy, life, love, memory, moments of eternity, time, value, worth
when my days are swept
golden –
into all I have left
when moments
are counted for more
I shall look at these hands
and remember the ways
they warmed to your longing
as never before
when my ears have misplaced
the sound of your voice –
a melody penned
long ago
as my eyes
fill with tears –
once reflected by yours
ocean deep pools
of your soul
tho my arms be denied
the reaching around –
I will rest in the memory
of bliss
when my tongue has forgotten
the taste of your name
my lips will remember
your kiss
. . .
23 Tuesday Mar 2021
Posted home, Poetry, spirituality
inTags
acceptance, all I really know, bliss, love, nothing more than this, poetry, soul memory, time, touch, trust
however lost
are moments past
now folded into days
and pushed against
the places I can’t reach
lessened by my leaving
a memory returns
of another life –
a place
I’ve sworn to be
when choosing comes
take my hand
lest we lose our way
imagine us a moment without end
welcomed recognition
of each eternity –
where love awaits
the choice to love
again
. . .
09 Tuesday Feb 2021
Posted Poetry, spirituality, verse
init’s my fated returning
of bark unto vine –
where cedars embrace the maple
lucious blackberry
and muscadine blue
are weaved together a rhyme
no sweeter could be
of places not far
miracles hid in plain view
sworn as allegiance
our wonders to bring –
holy most holy
of all we are due
washed by the rivers
of stormclouds to spring –
rush me til breath falls away
stand with me currents
made dear by returning
cypress and hickory
sunlight and shade
lie with me now –
in words without meaning
or mention by name
til less they might be
taste of these tears
as seasons
pass over – one
love becoming
a forever I knew
. . .
02 Tuesday Feb 2021
Posted Poetry, spirituality
inTags
bliss, connection, dreams, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, life, love, poetry, reason, relationship, spirit, truth, understanding, wisdom
in darkest days
we seek the light
which shines eternally
our prayers for grace are answered then
as those I lift for thee
as ageless as the pen to trust
the truth grows ever clearer
returning love to all who love –
and seek to draw it nearer
pages tempted from the past
become my destiny –
each step one closer to the light
where others wait for me
should e’er my name your heart recall
in blood or ink confess –
then I shall love you still the more
and never love you less
. . .
23 Thursday Apr 2020
Posted Poetry, spirituality
inTags
bliss, death, essence, eternal life, eternal soul, faith, grief, light, love, spirit memory, surrender, truth
what soul
would I surrender
for another life to lose
– breath
when there is nothing left
what kiss
would I
refuse
what sorrows
meant to suffer –
for joy when others fail
a spark beyond
the dark –
beyond the veil
when asked
what would I give
what might I take if only one –
what dream of mine
will linger
will linger
when I’m gone
. . .
14 Monday Jan 2019
Posted Rambling, spirituality, Storytelling, Uncategorized
inTags
ascension, beginnings, belonging, bliss, choice, home, life, love, mystery, remembrance, seasons, truth
It was a long weekend. Or, should I say it was a long Sunday. Due to some changes with our healthcare provider, we had a large group of individuals who were reflected as being terminated when they weren’t. To be honest, I am still in shock at the number of individuals who apparently visit the pharmacy every weekend.
But I also took my baby sister to the ER with anxiety, breathing, dizziness symptoms. I’m sure it’s not unusual to spend two hours just waiting in the ER, but eventually she was seen and sent home. We still aren’t sure what was wrong, and we may never know. It can be chalked up to ‘just one of those things’ or even a fine blend of Zyrtec, Flonase and mid-age weariness.
Regardless, Monday morning was busy before I left home with checking in, giving updates and juggling emails. I was so very grateful that I draw a line when it comes to driving and refuse to answer emails when stopped at traffic lights.
Instead, it was filled with reflection and introspection – about what I’m doing and what I’m not (or not doing enough).
I thought of how much I would prefer (even at this later time in my life) the things I rejected earlier in my life. I was filled with longing – for the little town with the bigger heart, people who I knew the same as my own hand, worry for the few things worth worrying about. I contemplated what it would be like to work at the hometown grocery store, or restocking cards at the only card shop in town. I fantasized about evening bond fires and weekend card games; fishing lines and flannel shirts; feather beds and catfish fries; weekends at the lake; pancake breakfasts and quilting circles.
I imagined a breadth of friends that would know everything about me, and love me (still). Friends who share their best recipes and spare bedrooms; who know the real difference between listening and hearing; friends eager to spend a Saturday morning picking blackberries, shopping at the nearest second-hand store, laughing as we gobble down a second serving of french toast, or crying over a movie we’ve seen twenty times.
Late nights with no make-up; mornings with no schedule to keep.
There’s another life out there; one with a smaller price tag. Sure – I won’t make as much, but it will cost me less – less of what matters; less of my years; less of whatever time I have left to spend.
I may be a long way from that leap, but I’m much closer to realizing there is one to be made – and of a life that surely exists beyond the fall.
in spite of time
my aching rests
with want for one last summer
one late July
you wanted me
I lived beyond the fire
dancing
when the party ended
backward to your arms
forward into all
the grace
you are
. . .
25 Tuesday Dec 2018
Posted Poetry, spirituality, Uncategorized
inA woman waited in line just a few people ahead of me. She carried three packages for mailing.
The clerk said it would cost $53 to guarantee their delivery by Christmas. The cost was too high so she inquired the price to guarantee delivery on only one of them.
She explained that December 25th was her father’s birthday.
The clerk sighed ‘what a bummer’. ‘What a bummer to have a birthday on Christmas. You’d only have one gift.’
As the customer dug for her wallet the clerk commented, ‘I don’t think I know anyone who was born on Christmas day.’
My voice echoed through the crowded space –
‘Thank God I do.’
. . .
04 Tuesday Dec 2018
Posted a time for telling, Poetry, Storytelling
inTags
bliss, connection, faith, family, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, living, love, memory, old maps, postmark, reason, relationship, spirit, strength, truth, wealth, wonder
Just this week, a friend told me of the start of a new tradition within her family wherein each member shared their best Christmas memory. Even in recounting the experience, tears filled her eyes as she spoke of her own, and those shared by others. There were moments of sorrow and others of pure joy, but eventually, they all became the best memory ever.
How is it that we’ve forgotten that? To know that every sorrow wears a coat of joy, and every bliss is but a warning of grief – a missing of the sweetest part? And yet, when measured into the same overflowing cup, they become the best – again and again.
She asked to my best memory ever and I think (partially) it was dislodged from my heart by her telling, but it is one of joy and family……….the best ever still.
Tho we didn’t know it at the time, we weren’t rich. My family of six lived in a two bedroom trailer until I was twelve. Then we moved into a castle of three bedrooms….. 🙂 The memory recalled is from the ‘castle’. Every Saturday was the same. One by one, my brother and sisters would wake for some reason and make our way to my parent’s room, my parent’s bed. Until we were all there, telling our dreams, torturing and tickling, and eventually deciding on breakfast.
But Christmas was another such time. My brother (who by virtue of the fact that he was the only son, had his own bedroom) would sleep in the girl’s room. We’d all pile into one big bed (or it seemed big at the time – tho I suspect it was no more than a full-size). I’m not sure we slept at all, but during the night, with every little squeak or bending of board, we’d speculate that Santa had come around. My brother was the designated outlook for us, and he would sneak down the hall to spy on the living room………and then run back to the safety of us to report. There was no understanding that it had to be five o’clock before we could get up. The only restriction was that we couldn’t get up before Santa had arrived.
Years later, I have heard stories of how long it took to get all the presents under the tree*. Between wrapping, assembling, and playing with all the toys – it was their joy we were most anticipating I think. Even now, at Christmas, I imagine the sound of little boy feet running down the hall…….. ‘he’s here, he’s here’………..
Let us keep Christmas forever in our tiny hearts, remembering things little as big. Let us keep love through the sharing of stories – creating anew every best memory.
* My Chatty Cathy doll was almost worn out before Christmas, and a promise to get a kitten for my sister resulted in an unexpected run to the country – and a cat that nearly brought my dad to stitches. In the telling, even more sweet beautiful tears. My dad comments, ‘we didn’t know just how good we had it’…. Then he winks, ‘yeah, we knew’……..
wake me home
some other year –
beyond this life surrendered
fall to me the places
I have known –
save for me
a little room
with not much more
for leaving –
arms to fill
wake me now
to home
. . .
Author’s Note: One of my favorite reposted as a reminder.
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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