unremembering ~

17 Monday Mar 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, Storytelling

Tags

aligned, bliss, breath, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, dreams, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, home, knowledge, living, love, nature, old maps, passion, poetry, relationship, restless, sacred intimacy, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, wandering

was said
there’ll be another time
I wonder if that’s true
when I will find you waiting here
when I shall come to you
when I will read
and you will write
our words will spill the same
how many lives may pass as none
to wonder why we came

you feel it now
I know it’s real –
this longing in my soul
was made for words and words will come
how is that you know
I read it once (you taught me well)
how could that ever be
another time (of all we know)
a place of destiny
there are words
and there are words
that’s how I’m bound to you
as breath to breath
as earth to sun
I know this much is true
I’ll find you when
we touch
we love
we dream

I love that smile
it’s been a while
through times of disbelief
you knew me then
and now again –
the smell of burning leaves
would rivers know
the way to home –
will bring you back to me

. . .

places I been going ~

02 Sunday Mar 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

becoming, blessings, breath, conscious consciousness, dreams, fearless, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, living, love, more, nature, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, seasons, southern, spirit, spirituality, still, strength, truth, understanding, value, wandering, wonder

been wearing down
and turned around
which way
the way I’m bound
come Sunday
one more place
I lay before

as lace
against the maple
knots along the floor
here I’ll be
tho I won’t be no more

for miles beyond
the edges
years beyond my own
to know
as I been knowing
every road
will take me home

when nights
of blackened cinder
days to burn my skin
beneath your sighs
I touch the skies
o breath
and there again

a song escapes
the rafters
a feather on the breeze
the sweet sashay
of glories
on the rise
coffee warm –
a red tail sails
the trees

a moment
as no other
come into
I find you still
in places I been going
will the knowing
heart reveal

a dream I knew
awakes me new
again

. . .

until ~

26 Wednesday Feb 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

becoming, breath, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, everything I know, fearless, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, love, nature, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, resurrection, spirit, strength, truth, understanding, wandering

the moon awaits
the close of day
a melting of the sun
wings are lifted softly
by the breeze

forever wills
a turning back –
another way we knew
when words were graced by silence
moonlight kissed
the trees

. . .

a wish before you’re gone ~

23 Sunday Feb 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

bliss, breath, connection, conscious consciousness, death, destiny, dreams, fearless, forgiveness, grace, knowledge, love, nature, old maps, passion, postmark, restless, self, spirit, understanding, wandering, wonder

silence strains
this fitful heart –
as red
the noonday blush
above the pines
where yesterday
the chill

remained
to slow the longing
snowflakes
into leaves
nights no longer
seek
my company

broken cups
and I still I raise
a favored
to the stars –
remember me
a wish
before you’re gone

counted
by the taking
for love
a moment more –
lights have filled
the places
we belong

. . .

miles before your dream ~

14 Friday Feb 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

becoming, conscious consciousness, dreams, faith, grace, life, love, nature, poetry, spirit, spirituality, still, understanding, unfurling, woman, wonder

bend these tired graces
to the measure
of your hand
the lengths to go –
miles before your dream
stay
where holy keeps you
wrapped in paper clouds
sealed within the words
I love you said

into the shifting silence
as chill
beneath the pines
light beyond the crest
where woods erase
the present
from the always –
the almost from the dead
I lay my head
and listen you
again

. . .

allegiances ~

11 Tuesday Feb 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

bliss, connection, conscious consciousness, death, faith, forgiveness, grace, knowledge, lessons, life, love, nature, old maps, passion, reason, relationship, seasons, spirit, time, touch without touching, truth, understanding, wandering, wisdom

will ever this
the cold reveal –
a plan
for early spring
buds are sleeping
safely
by the gate
dreams have been
forsaken
to seasons
come and gone –
morning swears
allegiances
to fate

to years behind
steps unknown –
for all I have another
remembered now
in silent lullabies
as echoes falling
tender –
curses none can hear
timbers weep
with every sweet
goodbye

. . .

stained ~

11 Tuesday Feb 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, cherokee, connection, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, love, memory, nature, of little things, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, seeing in the dark, spirit, truth, wonder

sweet the skin
forever stained –
with hint of evergreen
where want
became of ivy
mystified
a patch of purple clover
the lull of widow’s moss
is pulled into
the places
we are loved

twilight burns
above the boughs –
whispers roost
between
a shake of falling wishes
feathers wake
in memorizing
lives before –
these lessons to reveal
clouds apart
with all night long
to climb

. . .

almost still ~

10 Monday Feb 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 3 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

. . .