sweeter ~
12 Sunday May 2013
12 Sunday May 2013
12 Sunday May 2013
Posted in Storytelling
Tags
angels, breath, connection, courage, faith, fearless, grace, liberty, life, living, love, reason, restless, soldier, spirit, spirituality, strength, understanding, war
The Final Inspection
It’s the Marine, Sailor, Soldier and Airmen not the reporter
Who has given us the Freedom of the Press.
It’s the Marine, Sailor, Soldier and Airmen not the poet,
Who has given us the Freedom of Speech.
It’s the Marine, Sailor, Soldier and Airmen not the politicians
That ensures our right to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness..
It’s the Marine, Sailor, Soldier and Airmen who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag,
And whose coffin is draped by the flag.
– – –
When a friend sent me these pictures and the above “The Final Inspection”,
I knew I would share it, even if it took up all the space I had
such that I could never speak again.
Regardless our views, it can never be thought that the best of life
does not come without a cost. I am thankful to those willing to
pay. For some, it is the choice to believe in something
better than self – more than one man or one
voice can keep.
Some stories should be told; some tell themselves.
. . .
before the last sun
winks into the memory of the sea
will tides return me home
into your arms
12 Sunday May 2013
Posted in Poetry, Storytelling, verse
Tags
becoming, breath, connection, destiny, dreams, fearless, grace, knowledge, life, living, love, old maps, passion, poetry, postmark, reason, spirit, strength, travel, truth, understanding
hope was born on a windy day
at seven p.m.
your sudden smile
illuminated the fog
of my ailing soul
heartache was an ever darkening bruise
that starlight could never heal…
your hands still try to work miracles
but you disappear as often
as moonlight on a stormy night
and through the ebb and tide of my need
you ride the waves of my salvation
like a pirate
caught between lust for rich horizons
and a part-time philosopher
in love with ideals
. . .
12 Sunday May 2013
Tags
bliss, connection, death, destiny, dreams, grace, life, living, love, old maps, passion, reason, spirit, strength, truth, understanding, wandering
my love
let me become your ghost
a trace more discreet
than your warm shadow
let me follow you
over continents
deserted by human tears
shorelines beyond this solitary happiness
let me grow old agelessly
within the lifetime
of your images
that decorate my favored dreams
there in your eyes
the past looms forever hesitant
and in my undesired freedom
I will sing
of mourning the borders
of love’s embrace
if tomorrow
you stop loving me
. . .
11 Saturday May 2013
Tags
becoming, connection, destiny, dreams, faith, grace, gravel roads, life, living, love, passion, relationship, restless, southern, spirit, strength, understanding, wandering
If heaven I returned
for this –
and gave of longing
just one kiss –
Of lives before I traded in –
my silence for a song.
A rhapsody
so fleetingly –
became the best –
a part of me.
Else love be left
to haunt
the place you keep –
wherein the past
is new again –
the sweetest times (remember when)
I knew that you were going
yet you stayed –
to share with me
an endless dream
of moments (past)
as breath between.
Stories we’ve forgotten
now to tell.
Sunlight served
to melt away
words of love – I couldn’t say.
Faith to find –
direction in the dark.
Let’s just sit here
for a while –
I’ll trade the rest
for one more smile.
Dance with me –
I saved your song
for now.
. . .
10 Friday May 2013
Posted in Poetry, Storytelling
Tags
becoming, connection, destiny, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, love, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, woman
when now
the stars are clouded
by wonder
what is gone –
ships to sail
and other lives moved on
shadows spun
to silken web –
one more
might have been –
was left behind
and waiting for us
then
mysteries
decided by the setting
of our sun –
names were never spoke
above a sigh
touch beyond
the reach of hands –
secrets whispered still
– longing soars
beyond familiar skies
pages yet
unwritten –
await another start
spilled as sacred ink
where none can know
what of worlds
returning
where once a shadow fell
light before the first
we came to hold
. . .
09 Thursday May 2013
Posted in Poetry, Storytelling, verse
Tags
becoming, bliss, breath, dreams, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, life, love, nature, old maps, passion, poetry, postmark, restless, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, wandering
traces
have been noticed
by those who strayed behind
letters wrote –
reminders to the day
laurel spilling over
one more spring
is passed
petals almost bloomed
to fade away
of time
I have no mem’ry
of the coming back to go –
roads I walked
and some I stayed
the night
curved against a highway
warmed against the dark
miles between
the falling down
to dream
. . .
09 Thursday May 2013
Posted in Poetry, Rambling, Storytelling
Tags
becoming, bliss, cherokee, destiny, dreams, faith, fearless, grace, knowledge, life, living, love, memory, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, resurrection, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding
there’s a strangeness
to becoming –
from imprints of the past
a truth made strong
(by little lies)
as destinies recast
in azure blue
reflection
before the moon was lost
shadows split the night
(with memory) –
as stars uncrossed
by the weight
of desperation
were longing (eternal)
come to rest –
hopes are rearranged (by one desire)
and held by less
a fleeting proposition
unremembered by design –
dreams returning
(carried by the soul)
are of one
divine
. . .
09 Thursday May 2013
Posted in Poetry, Storytelling
Tags
becoming, bliss, connection, death, destiny, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, knowledge, life, living, love, old maps, passion, poetry, postmark, reason, relationship, soul signature, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, wandering, woman
Stillness speaks in words
I seldom hear
candles burn – scented yesterday.
The sweetest night was past
from places dear
another time – a place I might have stayed.
But silence knows the song
I sing –
barefoot in the dark,
waltzing past the moon while others doze –
closer to forever than the stars.
Was once confessed but met
with disbelief;
we’ve forgotten what it means to dream.
Caught in papers – there the evening news;
everything (and nothing) as it seems.
But I’ve discovered
hope in discontent,
moments found me lucid (eyelids closed).
Simple prayers I never spoke aloud
are whispered soft –
communion, no one knows.
From silver wings
that flicker on the lawn
past the purple glow of Al Jabba,
I’ve met ten thousand more
that have no names –
history betrayed their moment’s mark.
But for the dreamer,
once had walked alone
another shining moment we forgot –
caught in memory
and written there
time may have forsaken,
but we have not.
Between the ticks of ten and two,
all I am is come for me.
Twilight pulls the mortal world to bed,
and I pretend to let
the veil of slumber fall around
were only I so willing to
be led.
Would pass between the shadows
cast by misery and want
would rest and wake tomorrow —
nothing strange.
Complacency is petals wept
before the blackest swan;
hands are stopped –
eternity is changed.
And there, across the table
a familiar face,
eyes are met with knowledge
of the truth.
Presence finds assurance
in the noonday sun –
coincidence, a world denied the proof.
A fleeting smile, a knowing laugh,
secrets shared by strangers
candles burn – scented yesterday.
The sweetest night was past
from places dear
another time – a place I might have stayed.
Silence knows the song
I sing
barefoot in the dark,
waltzing past the moon while others doze,
closer to forever than the stars.
Closer to forever
than the stars.
. . .
09 Thursday May 2013
Posted in Poetry, Storytelling
Tags
bliss, breath, destiny, faith, fearless, grace, gravel roads, life, love, old maps, passion, reason, restless, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, value, wandering
caught me
from swaying
beneath a new sky
– hemmingway hands
took me home
fell to my musing
the laughter of flutes –
an instrument
tied from still broken
strings
listen
I pleaded –
hear me unsaid
as the passing
of ten thousand birds
thru the still
the tremor of longing
forgotten our ways –
as a path
born of will
to go on
prophet
and heron
crickets made song
of a darkness defined
by the passing
of time –
morning held back
by the leaving
(don’t go)
and music let out
by a sigh
. . .
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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