in my dream ~

27 Thursday Jul 2017

Tags

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

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

. . .

bloomed ~

19 Wednesday Jul 2017

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

beginning here, breath, close, journey, learning, life, love, path, somewhere still, time, truth

more
and for a future made
pieces blue and bright
a vision –
all I held
within my sight
a road no longer
walked along
trees
and branches
talked
of ancient times
and once I thought
to stay
wrapped in you
listening –
to silence
just as mine
gathered near
where secret whispers
bloomed
keep me here
stay the end
hold
and let me hold
to where I knew
you held
the way
to home

. . .

eternity us ~

23 Saturday Jul 2016

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

blessing, close, destiny, dreams, home, light, love, nature, seasons, spirit, stars, story, time

from birth –
the river
was bound to the trees
rocked neath their
branches
each night
sharing the story
tell me again
of weaving together
as stars into light
pattern reflected
in slivers of green
chasing a path
of song to the sea
warmed by the rocks
and swept by the tides
versing the winds
of shared destiny
of a night not so distant
– dreams just the same
as the taste
of forever –
tears without name

. . .

almost still ~

10 Monday Feb 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

bliss, breath, close, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, fearless, grace, knowledge, life, love, nature, old maps, passion, poetry, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, wisdom, wonder, woodsmoke

how soft
to lay
the blossoms down –
as anchors
for the weed
a carpet spread
beyond the dusty wood
sings to me of
summer –
another day as this
we shared a breath
in silence
and wondered if
we should

of all
we’ve known
how many there
remember us by name
an essence
swirling hue
of cedar smoke
gathered into leaving
holds us here
sometimes –
a universe for every
secret spoke

tell me
of another –
of ancient will removed
dreams are curled
against the window pane
where yesterday
the thistle
sprouted from our words
reached to catch
a taste
of summer rain

. . .