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~ …might I be found in words I leave behind

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Tag Archives: old maps

gathered ~

23 Tuesday Oct 2012

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

bliss, breath, cherokee, connection, dreams, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, love, memory, nature, old maps, passion, restless, spirit, strength, wandering, wisdom

in warmth
where the last of the sunlight
was gathered –
smothering snippets
lay fast by the door
and watched as permission
was given the rose –
fell as a shadow
of breath to the floor

as grace to seclusion
the running around –
as locks almost rusted in two
tasked as a hinge
fell away from the rest
and all that we held
by the passing into

retrieved
from our solace
as mittens and coats
wrapped velvet arms
through our own
choosing the path
so silent – our boots
when met with surrender
in moments alone

becoming to pass
as essence to wind
and breezes to swirl somewhere new
sunlight makes waste
of eternities planned –
as floors
without memory
of someone we knew

in the hush
before waking –
the sweetest of dreams
is spoken
as gold welcomes night –
names find a corner
for keeping our best
weaving a memory
of breath
into light

unsettled ~

23 Tuesday Oct 2012

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, closer to home, dreams, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, kentucky, life, love, nature, old maps, passion, restless, spirit, strength, truth, understanding, wandering

soft as the sound
of secrets unsettled
pushed through the needles
(much thicker than most)
and sank as the road
turning from asphalt –
to gravel – to dust
into green

bent down by waiting
and pressed to the edges
memory swept to the river
like change from the bar
(ash from the smoker)
remnants of habit
circles made scarce

as light switched to flame
in passing my window –
and sat I too long
in the afternoon sun
still in this grace
of missing confessions
a warmth as familiar
as swords through the pines
held to the corners
another night’s quilt

planets take shape
in the wish of forever
was given us paths
uintended to show
of touching (so tender)
the light hardly noticed
were stories retracing
the lines of my soul

a pardon of needles
ten thousand much more
than the one of before
when we laid here the night –
forgotten to maps
our returning

as light streams
the forest with colors
to secret –
and rivers run closer
to home

…

no matter ~

23 Tuesday Oct 2012

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, cherokee, connection, dreams, fearless, grace, life, love, nature, old maps, postmark, reason, restless, spirit, truth, wandering, wisdom

had the spring
succumb to winter
and held the dreamer near –
on the way
to our becoming more
than e’er a moment here

when passed into eternity
as one more breath
come I –
as rain where’er the ground is full
as whispers from the sky

of wondering
what words were kept
in stillness to your soul
would curse the choice returning –
this longing to console

of all and then
how much of will –
this mystery shall prove
and held beneath the silence
of a sigh

let summer melt
to steal our sleep –
with visions of tomorrow
as come the softest point of love –
when wonder sits
with sorrow

know
as I have known you
lest you put the truth away
or make of less in leaving –
the blessing of today

the lowly crest
of virgin song –
so sweet these morning stars
love remembers us
the same
no matter where
we are

…

golden pale ~

22 Monday Oct 2012

Posted by tornadoday in folklore, Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

bliss, destiny, dreams, fearless, grace, gravel roads, life, love, old maps, passion, postmark, restless, southern, spirit, truth, value, wandering

of these ancient bones
and dirt poor roads –
paths denied me
leaving
were none to find
of left behind
awaiting to atone

as softly as a morning swoon
fingers to the curtains –
were lifted high the veil
of almost gone

speak to me of symentry
and places not forgotten –
leaning walls
and papers golden pale
spin for age the legend
of where we love forever
as distance I might come
to find you still

silver leaf
and poems started
now their jagged voice
betrayed –
light for me
the candle
was meant for kinder days
and where I was
unknowing – set me free

plant the seed
and crush the tiller –
seal the cross
with scarlet woes
mend the fence before I wander
back into –
the ways I know

. . .

laurel ~

20 Saturday Oct 2012

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, breath, cherokee, destiny, fearless, flannel, grace, life, love, mountain laurel, nature, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, southern, spirit, strength, understanding, wisdom

of fear
I have no memory –
but for passions i reserved
and truth i know
(as e’er i know)
something i can’t say

the sweetest bliss
is moments here –
the weather suits my skin
tho cold was never threatened
by delight

flannel suits
and velvet dogs –
to chase my chills away
something clear
to numb my yesterdays

crooked boards
to lean the porch –
squeak beneath the rain
where vines are twisted tight
against my tune

mountain laurel
let me go
as breath to fill my sail –
stars align to windows
of my soul

somehow ~

18 Thursday Oct 2012

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, verse

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, fearless, grace, gravel roads, life, living, love, memory, old maps, passion, reason, restless, truth, understanding, wandering, woman

long before
you knew my name –
I knew of you somehow
as fated brush
of ink to skin –
was love as love allowed
was all you were
and breath to me
ageless
endless
sweet

I can’t recall the one
I was
before you came
for me

. . .

not for slumber ~

18 Thursday Oct 2012

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, cherokee, dreams, faith, fearless, grace, gravel roads, life, living, love, nature, old maps, passion, reason, restless, spirit, star crossed, strength, truth, wandering

get me back
before the morning
falls unnoticed to the lawn
e’er these dreams
resolve to keep me
to the places I’ve become

get me back
before the sunrise
set my feet on firmer ground
leave your essence
to remind me
of another solace found

get me back
tho I grow weary –
not for sleep my body aches
not for slumber
I’ve been missing –
would my senses lie awake

get me back
get me something
more than all
one moment holds –
every image made of heaven
stretched to fit
as love unfolds

get me back
I’ll be waiting
in the places you abide –
beyond the reaches
of forever
I’ll be waiting
with the night

get me back
before the leaving –
lest the daylight find me gone
counting everafter hours
come to sleep
upon the lawn

. . .

poetry ~

17 Wednesday Oct 2012

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, cherokee, dreams, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, life, love, memory, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, restless, spirit, truth, understanding, wandering, wisdom

anchored by threads
of faraway seasons
veils pulled aside to reveal
the divine –
provision of poetry
and bright wooly winters
November new better
the passing of time

held by the truth
and counted as curses –
returned from the care
of hands folded two
love has but memory
of one to the other –
pictures of living
with love shining through

spare me the stories
of futures negated
by something that somebody told
mornings grown harsh
by the threat of another
let not this measure
make waste of our soul

two were remembered
by places uneven
and signs
kept by moments unseen
seasons revealing
the pages already
were torn from our keeping
as now we conceive

where were we started
when looking for answers
a question
of living – a coming back home
as a mist on the orchard
a frozen green apple
made good the foretelling
of winters to come

where did we dream
what the occasion
would lead us so far
from the light we had been
telling of times
we spoke without speaking
and ran without knowing
we’d find us again

threadbare ~

17 Wednesday Oct 2012

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

bliss, cherokee, destiny, dreams, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, life, love, old maps, passion, reason, relationship, restless, soul signature, spirit, strength, truth, wandering

ten thousand years
are more or less –
the same as once before
I was
and you by some
another name –
forgotten to my bliss

burning sands
and chilly winds –
words the mayfly buries
for weeks alone
with no one home –
she waits to be
a bride

living long
in threadbare robes –
paths grown cold with longing
was come to share
a moment there
the start
of every end

knew you when
and loved again
was come –
as I was going
long nights warmed by firelight
morning to us all

rings and rows
of marigolds –
polished river pebbles
moonlight just as blue
as once we were

fall into
this willing you
of all I’ve come to follow
as whispers fell of
snowflakes into spring

wrap the winter
’round me now –
taste the name I’ve carried
near within your vest
my sweetest bloom –

still the heart
that beats the same
ten thousand years apart
tell me how you found
your way –
across an ancient moon
…

worth to confess ~

16 Tuesday Oct 2012

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

becoming, death, faith, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, life, love, old maps, postmark, reason, spirit, truth, understanding, wandering, wisdom

sweet the bough breaks
as innocence falls
as stillness asleep on the snow
cradled in arms
of once half asleep
and rocked as a baby
the whole world to know

the road back
the way come –
and who are we now
where is the place
we’ve come to endear
when darkness tugs hard
at the shadows of life
and all we have left
is the weight
of our tears

forgiven the promise
to never let go
to choose without choosing
our truth to profess
but once in the deep
a pounding so close
and moments no longer
with worth
to confess

of innocence lost
by the side of the bed
nightmares recover the worst
slept not in places
turned us away –
a smile in the mirror
for ignorance cursed

so heavy the burden
of taking no side
never noticed the faraway spark
eyes grown accustomed
to living a lie –
were changing our view
of the dark

til there in the quiet
a thought not erased
by signs of forgiveness –
the existence
of grace –
a well-worn transgression –
that nobody knows
when fell from the cedars
as a name
to the snow

In softest memorial ~
Kimberly Ripmaster

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