no ordinary feeling ~

21 Sunday Aug 2016

Tags

becoming, grace, light, love, old maps, passion, spirit, truth, understanding, wandering, wisdom

before the night
is scattered
by the first embrace of dawn
for moments then
I float in half awake
with thought to more
than earthly care
visions passed between
– nothing
I’m prepared
to give away

(if evermore)
a moment come
and always at my will
no ordinary feeling
wraps me sweet
within the still

embraced by this
surrender
more than breath –
or hands to hold
love that has no measure
brings a solace
to my soul

sun that begs
these buds to tremble
my sleepy eyes to sight
awakened by a
promise –
writ in messages
of light

lest I wander
past the leaving
and will my spirit
home –
to the heart
that keeps my pillow –
the kiss that is
my own

. . .

let the night ~

10 Wednesday Aug 2016

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

blessing, life, love, old maps, quiet, remembering, sacred intimacy, seasons, stutter, time, touch, truth

sweetly

within the shy
of noonday shade
how many more
were memories left
untended for the keeping
unashamed the letting go
words content
to let another know
of moments
not so distant
perhaps some other life
roads for crossing
over
let the night
free us yet
from tangled dreams
transgressions of before
let me sleep
within your
wanting arms
listen
there the speaking
of night birds
to the moon
– of trembling hearts
resolved to touch
the dawn

. . .

when the sky fell away ~

24 Sunday Jul 2016

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

becoming, destiny, divine, grace, life, love, old maps, one, sacred intimacy, spirit, truth

as breath
was I ever much more
than a wish
given a star
when the sky
fell away
a memory formed
by the coming
back round
to begin
were we then
just beginning again
a soul recalled
to a moment divine
a flicker of flame
made light
out of this –
heaven we swore
to remember

returning

dreams we’ve forgotten ~

27 Sunday Dec 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

acceptance, becoming, breath, conscious consciousness, destiny, divine, fearless, like this, moments, old maps, returning, sacred intimacy, story, unremembered

winter was ne’er
for the fragile of heart
and yet I remember
so clearly the day
clouds were laid over
a hole in the sky
blackbirds were telling
of lovers by name
a destiny curs’ed
and frayed
unknown to believers
weaved into faith
when last I was here
– as time
without place
as touch unrepented
warmed by the still –
a blossom untested
til now
november
was never the story untold
repeated in
chorus ten thousand
tongues old
played for the one
without memory of less
truth held in check
by the coming back
round
to dreams we’ve
forgotten
somehow

. . .

the same you loved ~

09 Saturday May 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

becoming, cherokee, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, faith, fearless, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, living, love, old maps, passion, reason, spirit, truth, understanding, value, wandering

what winters
have you worn away
with rosary and cotton
beneath the fold
where all your secrets lay
of heaven come
one night to find you
standing by my gate
caught between the first to leave
and coming back
to stay

with stories
of your wanderings
beyond the reach of light
with questions of your knowing
where to go
moonlight casts a shadow
on every present tense
would show the way
you knew
to find me home

wrapped in yellow flowers
once the same you loved –
grew along the pasture
a moment
passing through –
remember how
the cedars ached
to block the view of morning
of praying eyes
before the skies
were blue

how many times
have I heard tell
of blossoms in December
beyond the reach
of reason
asleep beneath the snow
flickers bloom
a sweet perfume
of mystery and madness
secrets of all colors
awaiting you
to know

. . .

all souls ~

04 Monday May 2015

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

becoming, breath, connection, conscious consciousness, death, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, life, love, old maps, postmark, reason, restless, resurrection, spirit, strength, value, wandering

names
by some forsaken
the fondest memories
a slight of hand
a slower fate than most
whispers sworn
to secret
reserved for us the same
reminders of another
love I knew –
will I
remain

a silent praise
along the path
for someone no one knows
hands are folded
quilts are wearing through
who of me
I wonder
will there be
when I am gone –
will one return
to speak my name
aloud

. . .

I moved back to Tennessee in 1991. Three days after the
first on the porch, I noticed something along the back fence line – an edge
amid the briar. It was a portion of cemetery marker, apparently from
the time when many civil war battles were fought nearby.

There is no name…only dates. When days are hot, it is a place of retreat,
and many poems have found word there. Yesterday morning, it seemed
the only place to be – held by one without a name, as witness to my tears.
(I shall give).

Image: 1998 somewhere between here and the place where I was born. Souls
sleep where solace grows deepest. “Ask not for whom the bell tolls….”

. . .

buttons ~

05 Sunday Apr 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

becoming, connection, destiny, faith, grace, gravel roads, life, living, love, old maps, passion, reason, spirit, truth, understanding, wandering, woman

was it for this
a silence surrendered
– nights
when I can’t buy a dream
mornings find me
out on the porch
rocking alone –
eyes facing north
fussing with buttons
and cursing
sometimes –
to wonder
(and how I must do that
a lot)
haunted by traces
places untouched
fingers burnt
by beginning

. . .

habits ~

02 Thursday Apr 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, Storytelling

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

bliss, conscious consciousness, destiny, dreams, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, life, love, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, self, southern, spirit, truth, understanding, value, wisdom

someone made mention
of rings on the table
habits worn clean
to the bone
a rusted out latch
keeps no one from leaving
a whispered reminder
of reasons
to stay
where the fences
need mending
and water runs cool
sprung from a river
two miles ‘neath the porch
we watched the sun rise
another
one day
when spoke of intention
promise undone
by a change in the
weather
warm cotton gowns
I dared not replace
with the pretense of love
the essence of summer
left on the line
and a glass
of the best I knew how

. . .

the last get me back ~

01 Wednesday Apr 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

becoming, cherokee, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, faith, family, fearless, grace, gravel roads, life, love, old maps, passion, poetry, postmark, spirit, truth, understanding, value, wisdom

once was
a man
I never did know
my daddy
before
he fell into love
whiskey
and fifty two cards
more than most
a heart split apart
by the last
get me back
to a place
not for keeping
returned me
to find
forever had never
been lost
all that was mattered
to the ways
I had come
without need
for a map
or a star
wished upon

. . .

listen ~

29 Sunday Mar 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Rambling

≈ 25 Comments

Tags

becoming, conscious consciousness, death, faith, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, grief, healing, knowledge, life, memory, old maps, passion, poetry, restless, sorrow, star crossed, strength, truth, understanding, wandering

on this sweltering dawn
I stand barefoot on a narrow step
looking out through eyes
blurred by emotion
seeking an unknown part of my past
a place I must have known
would find me here
with no one yet to answer
but for me
the purple buds are tempted
another week to stay

sorrow comes easily
as in the counting still –
of friends he seems
more willing than the rest
to listen as my heart concedes
I knew not when to break
or what of verses now
would yesterday
forsake

silent
raindrops
will comfort me now
a hundred times – of listening
volumes unconfessed
across a missing
separated –
mourning
words of love

how long this day
in coming
was there time before this loss
I can finally begin to recite
in an almost whisper
ten thousand volumes
of verse I never shared
and let my heart beat steadily
the celestial rhythms
of mourning
and show you the depths –

sentiment
hidden for the lifetime
that has separated us

. . .