26 Friday Mar 2021
Posted in Poetry, spirituality
was never ours
the fault to keep
for stars once realigned
as others claimed
by wishes
before the dawn could rise
when for a moment
I was rocked
beneath a stand of firs –
braced against your song
against your heart
slower still
the move of hands
to capture everything
a string of lights
across the night –
as fates were
broken free
. . .
23 Tuesday Mar 2021
Posted in Poetry, spirituality, verse
of moments shared
the count too few –
a route for getting back
runs east to west
and north beyond my view
pages torn
and photos faded
where am I to go
when every shred of evidence
is nothing I can hold
no souvenirs
or passion cleft –
no path we walked along
no proof exists beyond my heart
of love we must have known
can’t change the rules
to resurrect
a life before you came
the girl I was before I learned
the taste that was your name
if e’er a means were garnered
and I with time to prove
how long the waste in seeking
all I know as truth
of stars where darkness
used to be
solace for days between
truth I held when no one knew
how it was
to dream
. . .
10 Wednesday Mar 2021
Posted in a time for telling, home, Poetry, Storytelling
Tags
age, dream, home, life, love, my house, pieces of me, returning to a home we never left, spirit memory, story, time
what share would I give
of a life fully lived
another life to recall
arms reaching out
from the shadows –
words cut short
by the fall
a house settled back
on the edge of a wood
smoke in the air
in my eyes
steps from my watch
at the window –
dawns a familiar
sunrise
would e’er creation
remember me whole
to places I loved long ago
memories tease
at the edge of my reaching
of something
I already know
Author’s Note: Of those who know me well, a few know me better. They know of the house that has been a part of my dreams since I was a child. As of late, they come less frequent (I have a theory on that) but still. I’ve never been there, and yet I know it, and could find it if chance put me within a mile or two. I know the steps from the porch to the fence, the soft old rose print of wallpaper in the smallest bedroom, the way the wind howls through the trees at night. A dear friend who I shared my stories with once commented that she and I should take a trip in search of ‘the house’. “I’m sure it’s near here, and we could find out who actually lives there.” I froze. She didn’t understand at all. “I live there.”
In another life. I am in the kitchen as morning climbs the steps. I dance beneath a faded bulb, and worry not for sleepless nights in which I am lost (I am found). I love.
But in this life, in those moments that reach my soul, I pause. I place my hand against a window, upon someone’s heart. I close my eyes (a snapshot) and whisper “remember this”. ❤
. . .
05 Friday Mar 2021
Posted in Poetry, spirituality, verse
she takes her poison
after tea –
before her evening shows
she spins around
the kitchen
and wonders
if he knows
how much of her
remains with him
despite the miles between
how much of her
is captive
to his dreams
once she starred
in color
almost every night
he whispered
while the coffee brewed
for he loved to see her smile
she knows the way
she counts the ways –
every stone by heart
as steps beyond the barn
into the dark
naked feet on hardwood
face against the door –
staring down the darkness
with faith in something more
how much of life is taken
by the breath
that bears us home
a name that tastes the same
is ours alone
. . .
03 Wednesday Mar 2021
Posted in Poetry, spirituality, verse
take of these lines
the story of me –
some I won’t tell to a stranger
break every rhyme
on the sharp edge of truth –
as witness am I
to the way love can take
so much longer
give me this day
the first time again –
every moment
a lifetime I waited to know
as breath unto silence
a blush in the night
when you swore you would stay
as I waited
you home
witness my heart
and I will remember –
the way that love feels
your hand reaching mine
when words I’ve been holding
ring through your shadows –
light as a sigh
let loose on the night
. . .
18 Thursday Feb 2021
Posted in a time for telling, Poetry, spirituality
what of time
was ever ours
eternity to claim
when roses bloom in winter –
will one recall
our name
tis there we live
immortal beat –
for years beyond our years
a photograph
of a photograph –
as love we reappear
as blessings
where we left them be
a smile remembers when –
love was all we knew of life
– is there we touch
again
until the night
is drawn
across the memory of us
would that another
speak aloud –
a name
the same as love
. . .
Lillian Rebecca Smith George
grace in a cotton dress
1923 – 2021
09 Tuesday Feb 2021
Posted in Poetry, spirituality, verse
it’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
. . .
05 Friday Feb 2021
Posted in Poetry, Rambling, spirituality
Tags
broken fences, easy as I, enough, faith, gravel roads, home, it's what I do, life, love, memory, time, writing in the dark
come the morning
of redemption –
city lights
to fade your doubt
for every time
another came
and I was left without
breath no longer easy
was a plead for me
to stay
tho I couldn’t hear
I wouldn’t hear
words you’d never say
for every life
you promised
another perfect place –
an empty barn
a broken fence
memories retraced
to kiss this ground
and cleave my heart in two
been buried
more than once –
beside the river
next to you
shadows slide
on maple floors
while someone that I knew
remembers me
from other times –
a lover passing through
the worst is done
the right made wrong –
and who am I
for asking –
will the crops be gone
before the frost
is come
faraway
so faraway
and where we’ll be
worth telling –
city lights
are faded now
to places faraway
would stay the sun
and block the path
from taking more to pay
the bills tomorrow
bargained for –
with love so far
away
. . .
25 Monday Jan 2021
Posted in Poetry, spirituality
Tags
allowing, courage, grief, home, knowing what I know, memory, time, truth, what might have been
Today’s devotion was one that I needed (tho I find I need almost all of them in some way or another). It was about grief, but not grief in the traditional way you think of it – as grieving over something once had and lost. It was grieving of another kind – grieving for what might have been.
In the devotional, one woman explored her grief for a life that might have been had she not miscarried a child – her life and the child’s. And it made me think to the children I’ve never had, but also to other lives, some lived through word or in memory – but lives I grieve the same.
Take time, wherever you are to think on those things – even if just for today. There’s another life that misses you, other arms that reach out within the silence. Do not dwell in that place for life continues regardless. But it would be a shame to not allow them their space, to allow the tears that you’ve dared to cry alone.
when I’ve forgotten
how it was –
or what of hope allowed
when years have gone
with all I dreamed about
let not my heart
be fractured
along the same sweet lines
where once I loved
my love shall be
in breath –
no longer mine
. . .
13 Wednesday Jan 2021
Posted in Poetry, spirituality, verse
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
. . .
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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