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tornadoday

~ …might I be found in words I leave behind

tornadoday

Tag Archives: it’s what I do

whene’er you sleep ~

01 Monday Mar 2021

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, spirituality

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

choice, do you remember, ghosts, it's what I do, life, love, memory, need, poetry, silence, sometimes, time, when I close my eyes, whispers

in the mellow
afternoon
where you sit
the day alone
fumbling with your papers
with your keys
images replay
every time you close
your eyes
she waits you know
in dreams
whene’er you sleep
just beyond
the memory
of just beyond the trees
music plays
how much louder must
it be
to obscure the loss
erase the cost
how much
before you answer
the silence
of your need

. . .

faraway ~

05 Friday Feb 2021

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, spirituality

≈ 2 Comments

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

. . .

the way ~

10 Tuesday Nov 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

blessing, easy, grace, home, it's what I do, life, love, nature, smile, something here, the way, truth, without words

how many times
I’ve cursed
the slamming of the door
a backward glance
with nothing more to say
I’ve left my fears behind me
praying you might find me
some other time
you’d steal my breath
away

stay
that I might learn you
from all the things
you love
– the way you feel
the way you laugh –
the way you speak my name
sometimes I can’t but wonder
of another life
we made

morning spreads
her golden wings
as I lean upon the gate –
anchored to a life so undefined
tho not for this you tarry
something here won’t wait –
I love your smile
as sunlight
through the pines

. . .

ways I cursed ~

06 Tuesday Oct 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, spirituality

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

blessing, hope, it's what I do, life, love, seasons, spoken aloud, time, truth, wonder

when at last
the wind is gone
and all the seeds dispersed
when comes a night
so cold it fills
my bones
will then
I cease to wonder –
do you understand
me now –
the ways I cursed
when first you came
and I was found
somehow

burst as bloom
returned of spring –
one april day I woke
found you there
with ne’er a word to say
who knows
how long
forever takes –
where and when I’ll find
the seed I let
to go
just yesterday

. . .

crush ~

21 Friday Aug 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

age, blessings, brave enough to die, courage, faith, home, it's what I do, love, seasons, time, truth

are there roses
where you planted winter wheat
I had that happen
once
when you were here
it came as no surprise
that the frost
had nearly gone
when briars pushed their way
despite the fear
I recognized
when first was held
at mercy to the pain
but couldn’t bear
the thought of letting go
ashes fall in autumn
just when the weeds turn brown
tis there I grieve
for love as none –
as tears within the snow

. . .

letting ~

09 Thursday Jul 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, spirituality

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

almost always, breath, destiny, it's what I do, life, love, sometimes, soul speak, truth, willing me home

repented

she worried
o’er his story –
wept most every night
heard his songs
long after
he had played

she made her bed
but dared not rest
she woke within a dream –
was there she found him sleeping
peacefully

her destiny
a reason meant
for letting go
for letting in –

she came for but one touch
and he was saved

. . .

getting on ~

09 Thursday Jul 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

destiny, get me back, heart, home, it's what I do, life, love, memory, redirection, seasons, time, truth

morning come

I’m getting on
with redbud
and whiskey –
somebody told me
a tale
just today
somebody mentioned
a path you’ve been taking –
and I’ve gone
out of my way

to find you
uncertain
on my way here –
a life just beyond
somewhere I knew

I’m getting back
to a time
of beginnings –
to a season held captive

moments
too few

I’ve no regrets
no bitterness wanting –
no plans for another
some other
to find

I’m getting on
with sure redirection –
missing myself
– your heartbeat
with mine

. . .

pretty liars ~

04 Thursday Jun 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

confession, forgiveness, it's what I do, just like this, letting go, lies, life, love, lovers, truth becoming, wait, words, writing without rhyme

holythis

I’ve been a saint
been a sinner –
a fury raged
against the page
I’ve found love
and sure forgiveness
suffered me
the will to wait

of all the others
come before you –
count me blind
I’ve known my share
of pretty liars
so familiar –
enough to bury
deep somewhere

. . .

than e’er I thought to lead ~

11 Wednesday Mar 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, Storytelling

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

honor, it's what I do, life, love, pages, purpose, rambling, stars, story, submission, time, truth, wonder

saved me

what mirror mine
as daylight breaks
with pencils
once I wrote the sky
forgiving of a moment
I was lost
I was freed –
of ink I never thought
to care
assurance never mine
a stronger hand
than e’er
I thought to lead

pages
lined with story
let them change
as I have changed –
retelling of the past
another me
somewhere
this remembrance
though not for fate
to let
papers split the light
as falling
leaves

. . .

I am forever grateful that my life be told with pencil rather than pen, with moments still undecided by the stars.

 

found ~

13 Friday Oct 2017

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, Storytelling

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

been found, grace, gratitude, home, it's what I do, life, love, memory, prayers, sorrow, tears, time, truth

homeofI

A couple of days ago, I was tempted by one of those Facebook confession postings. You know the type, where you input information relative to you and post it on your timeline so that others will learn more about you, but also be inspired to do the same on their timeline.

Sort of a chain letter for Facebook fans.

It started innocent enough –

Names you go by: Bobbie, Bob, Aunt Bob
Beer or Wine: Coffee

But the next point for input was ‘When’s the last time you cried?’

Now that’s a bit tricky. You see, I don’t truly view myself as much of a crier.  Though I feel things deeply, the tears I shed are pretty private and I am not sure that either (a) they would be perceived as such, or (b) the fact that my answer isn’t ‘yesterday’ would lead anyone to believe that I have no feelings.

That I would care about either of those last items is an entirely separate matter, and one worth pursuing at another writing.

However, it got me to thinking about the tears I do shed.

You see, I can’t start down my list of reasons to be sad without bumping into reasons for thankfulness and gratitude. I can’t think about how much I miss my daddy without thinking of all the wonderful moments we shared. One gets in the way of the other in a way I am not sure most would understand.

I can shed tears of gratitude, but not for my own personal loss because my loss is far outbalanced by my gain.

And such as it with most everything I might grieve. My tears aren’t of sorrow, and may not even be seen as tears of joy.

They are instead tears of having been found.

Yes, that’s it….. And the answer, ‘all the time’.

. . .

cleave not to December
the reminder of spring
~ a sparrow returned
to the nest
with faded remembrance
of faraway sighs
futures ~
the color of snow

grieve not the leaving
but the coming around
to place
unaffected
by time
tears of reflection
are falling around
~ far from the living
we’ve known

. . .

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