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tornadoday

~ …might I be found in words I leave behind

tornadoday

Tag Archives: country

get me ~

13 Wednesday Jan 2021

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality, verse

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

assurance, country, faith, home, life, love, remember, seasons, time, truth

get me to singing
like some old guitar
a bit of boards straining
for tune –
the one you played
remember that time –
chords and crescendos
of me wanting you

get me
to forever
we swore there would be
feather beds
wrapped
with cotton sheets
long nights passed
with but a whisper between –
summer smiles
and kisses –
an old porch swing

get me
to sunrise
without worry for sleep –
questions
for all this love means
move me
to make you –
these lips to beg you
stay
silent reminders
to breathe

. . .

save for one ~

01 Friday Jan 2021

Posted by tornadoday in home, Poetry, spirituality

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

blessing, country, dreams, enough, home, kiss, life, longing, love, rural, stars, time, truth

a simple life
is all I ask –
a leaning barn
on a strip of land
was once my fathers will
for mine
riches for the keeping

could never want
for more than this
save for one
your morning kiss
save for one
as hope allows –
to be the one
you dream about

a broken fence
a weathered porch
life beyond
the reach of wars
beyond the lights
that grieve our stars
and curse the moon
for rising

. . .

clementine and ash –

04 Friday Sep 2020

Posted by tornadoday in home, Poetry, spirituality, Storytelling, verse

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

carry me sweetly, country, easy, grace, home, life, love, nature, simple

there’s a cloud
above the meadow
where ancient starlings spin
twelve across
as one
their feathers glide
slicing through my morning
a reflection of the sun
as cedars press around
on every side

clementine and ash
are twisted by the barn
a piece of lace
left over from the spring
crickets come alive
for a pleasure
born of shade
and I still lie awake
to hear them sing

. . .

witness ~

23 Tuesday Jun 2020

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, spirituality

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

blindness, country, courage, divine, evil, faith, honor, liberty, love, riots, scripture, truth, witness

hands

I have no words
no sympathies –
for that which undermines
the heart that sings
of liberty –
of destinies divine

what purpose this
that evil rise –
so madness become right
– what faith I bear
as witness to the light

. . .

lonesome none can bear ~

29 Thursday Aug 2019

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

acceptance, country, grief, life, lonesome, love, memory, rural, space, spirit, time, trust

wherestillIknow

when crickets moan
their soulful song –
without regard for light
denied the proof
dying might ignite
mystery of wire and rim
violins somewhere
bend against the stillness –
a lonesome none can bear
I knew you then
you heard my smile
across the night’s embrace
while crickets
kept reminders –
a melody of grace

. . .

made easy by the night ~

08 Wednesday Aug 2018

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality, Storytelling

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

age, assurance, blessing, country, distance, forgiveness, gifts, home, in my bones, life, love, spirit, time, truth

come now

lean against the longing
of one more moment here
a place to stay
without the need
for waiting –
the need for some forgiveness
(dare we ask again)
the want for home
(another me)
come in

lean against this promise –
made easy by the night
a candle glowing
ash upon the lawn
whene’er it comes
where’re it lays
(on sheets) the scent
of summer sun

the dawn will bring
assurance
of ten thousand yesterdays
we talked of this
returning
lest you find me
(just this way)

leaned against the kitchen sink
staring down the road
(forgotten every reason
not to stay)

. . .

hightide and redbud ~

28 Friday Aug 2015

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

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

angels, assurance, beauty, blessings, connection, conscious consciousness, country, family, flowers, grace, home, knowing, life, love, nature, oneness, sorrow, story, together, trees, truth

Friday. Another sweet surrender.

Whenever I need re-centering, I know where to go. With every return to nature, I am strengthened. I am remembered to myself time and again.redbudhome

Just this morning, before heading off to work, I sat for a moment and pulled myself into the now, focused not on the two places where nothing is – the past, the future. The breeze was soft and even in the present, there were scatterings of other times at the edges of my memory. So, I focused on the trees that push against the fence line.

They are without rule, without the strict reinforcement of man. They grow, and I let them. But in them, I was again reminded back to a lesson, one which I needed their help to re-find.

Every country girl moved to the big city knows one thing for certain. Regardless where you are, there is a part of you that grows deeper than concrete. You also know that while it’s a wonderful thought to dig up some of those baby trees for transplanting to city yards, it rarely works.

That’s because nature is without the limits of man’s wisdom. She grows untended, dogwood pressed against oak; redbud blossoming between pine and sweet gum; lady slipper and sumac in the same patch of moss. If you dig one up, expecting to see thick strong roots, you’ll be surprised. They aren’t that way at all. They are fragile and sprawling and weaved into each other. It is an environment that teaches them both to fight and to bend. So, if you relocate that pretty little redbud to the wide open space of a city yard, she will likely die.

And there, the lesson. We not only belong together; we are meant to be together. Our roots are made stronger when bound with another, reminding us to each other (to home) again and again.

savemenextAs some of you know, my father was diagnosed with Parkinson disease some years ago. It is a blessing and a curse. Like any other disease, it is a lover that only ever wants more of that which we hold dear. But the blessing is in the lessons learned – in the weaving together of joys, memories, and challenges. Even sorrow is a gift for it surely never leaves us where it found us. I reflect on my interaction with my daddy, mama, my brother and sisters. Where one is lacking, another picks up. Even in the tight space of a hospital room or a kitchen, we are remembered back to the dance of being one, together, the same. One leans in as another sways. Weaving never is finished. Knots are tied and re-tied to remind us of moments fragile and perfect, but only always of love – the divine water that allows us to bloom, to grow, to strengthen, to pray, to heal.

So, back to the woods (the now). If you dared to dig up that little redbud, and tried to unravel her roots, you might be amazed. Not only would you find them intertwined with the neighboring pine and dogwood, but you’d find traces of roots from trees and flowers long since gone.

Her real beauty (her strength) lies not in the blush that decorates a forest, but in that which reaches deeper than dirt. As with all of us, the real story is the one written to her soul.

. . .

what story
mine
beginning here
from traces of hello
resounds within
the echoes of goodbye
last we loved
might I have known
the way
would lead me back
where we are new –
made one
within the light

. . .

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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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Flared and prepared.

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Just a cup of poetry and cookies

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Motivate | Inspire | Uplift

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

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