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tornadoday

~ …might I be found in words I leave behind

tornadoday

Tag Archives: restless

drifter ~

27 Sunday Jul 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, cherokee, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, dreams, fearless, grace, knowledge, life, love, old maps, passion, poetry, restless, resurrection, self, spirit, truth, understanding, wandering, wisdom, wonder

springskies

of this soul
how much is known
of loves beyond
remember

a diamond sky
and buried stones
exists of all
I am

I knew before
tho I can’t say
what of when
I wandered

of nights into you
falling
as the first

of ancient
lights
above the path
familiar unfamiliar

before the fathers
gave of breath
a name

. . .

but for this ~

23 Wednesday Jul 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, Rambling

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

becoming, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, living, love, memory, old maps, passion, reason, restless, spirit, spirituality, strength, truth, understanding

Recently, a friend posted something about control and it stayed with me through the day. I kept coming back to it, such that I eventually conceded that maybe it was something I needed to write about.  Maybe it was a conversation I needed with myself. so that I understood more clearly.

As with everything I post here, I would expect you to take what you will from it. And if it doesn’t work for you, well, it doesn’t work. That’s exactly as it should be.  I would hate for anyone to see this as anything more than opinion.

Now, where was I?loveme

All of us are familiar with the obvious signs of control, with individuals who insist that everything be done their way. They set the rules for every relationship they have, with only a cursory concern for anyone other than themselves. But there are other ‘less obvious’ things that I have come to view as control, and I’ve struggled with coming up a definition that works (that expresses my thoughts). Maybe, for me, it’s a grey line that ultimately comes down to expectations.

If you do something nice for me, with an expectation that I will do the same, that’s a form of control because your heart isn’t concerned as much with the giving as with the getting back. If you wash my car because you’re planning to ask me to watch your dog on Saturday, I view that as a form of control and the kind act is somehow lessened. Of course, I realize that I could thank you for the car wash and still refuse to watch your pet, but that’s a bigger pill to swallow because it requires us to ignore the kindness. See?

Yet, this stuff happens all the time. It’s a give and take (o, the games people play). Even the best relationships are filled with these subtle interactions (dance), as perhaps they should be. That’s why the line is so fuzzy – because it’s not so easy to see when a gesture becomes a job – when a kindness becomes a debt – when a good relationship becomes not so good. From my perspective, the line is the expectation.  At the precise moment that I thought less of you because you didn’t respond or react the way I wanted, it stopped being about my love for you.

I’m not perfect (yeah, I’ve said that before), and I’ve behaved in very unloving ways at times. I regret those and, in retrospect, I can see the instant I crossed the fuzzy line. In some cases, I just wanted someone else to feel as badly as I. In others, I was convinced that tears or ultimatums would somehow swing the odds in my favor. But, if I look closely (and honestly), those were times when the only thing that mattered was that I got what I wanted.

And that’s a control issue, no matter how easily it might be to defend.

If I refuse to keep your pooch, and you blow up, reminding me of how you washed my car……..well, there you have it. If I get angry because I don’t get my way and somehow make it all your fault, that’s a control thing. I am absolutely sure of one thing – if you wish to see who someone really is, watch what they do when they don’t get what they want.

“Anyone who loves in the expectation of being loved in return is wasting their time.”  From my personal experience, I might even argue that they just think they’re loving.

As you would expect, many of my students are experts in the art of control. Family and friends are manipulated by the notion that their loved one will be homeless, without food, or even suicidal if they don’t pay the electric bill, keep the kids, or buy them clothes for a date (with the guy who is going to change everything).  It’s not hard to understand why so many are without any support at all; they’ve become masters at burning bridges.

I rarely have a class where someone doesn’t approach me with a need of some kind, and by need, I mean something beyond that which I’ve openly offered.  Those who know me might wonder how I could ever say ‘no’, and yet I’ve come to understand that (sometimes) in helping, the only thing I’ve done is delay the lesson.  I’m not even sure they notice how their perceived need has become something more – a means for measuring.  They’ve done it so long that they’re oblivious to the demands they make on the people who love them (as proof of that love).

It’s everywhere. Employees tolerate an ogre of a boss because they’re afraid of losing their job; men so afraid  of losing everything that they settle for a co-existence rather than a relationship built on love; women who trade their voice for nicer kitchen cabinets and granite countertops.

The world is filled with takers, those who can spot a kind heart across a busy freeway. The really sad thing is that there are kind hearts out there who want so badly to be loved that they will accept whatever they’re given.

“What we all want, really, is to be loved. That craving drives our worst behavior.”

The best relationships are defined by those with no ulterior motive for love. True love is never a dependency; it seeks only to be.

“I am surprised how difficult for people is to say “I love you”. They only say the three magic words when they are sure they will hear “I love you too” back. C’mon! Spread the energy of love without expecting anything! Cowards are incapable of expressing love; it is the prerogative of the brave.”

what of this
my heart shall break
and leave upon your hands
the stain
the promise
I was waiting for
is not for want
to come again

. . .

once the same ~

22 Tuesday Jul 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, dreams, fearless, forgiveness, gravel roads, life, love, memory, nature, old maps, passion, reason, restless, spirit, strength, truth, understanding, wandering

tenderme

how many times
have I heard tell
of blossoms in November
beyond the reach
of reason
where memories are laid
flickers bloom
the faintest scent
of mystery and myrtle
evermore is not so far –
awaiting you
to dream

with stories
of your wanderings
beyond the reach of light
beyond the edge of knowing
where to go
moonlight sits
in shadow
of every present tense
would know the way
you knew
to find me now

wrapped in yellow flowers
as once the same you loved –
grew along the pasture
with lavender
and sage
remember how
the cedars stretched
to block the view of morning
of prying eyes
before the skies
were blue

what winters
have you tucked away
in hollyhock and briar
beneath the fold
where all your secrets lay
of heaven come
one night to find you
standing by the gate
caught between the first to leave
and coming back
to me

. . .

made us to story ~

18 Friday Jul 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

bliss, breath, connection, conscious consciousness, death, dreams, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, here, life, living, love, nature, old maps, passion, reason, restless, spirit, truth, understanding, value, wonder

thisway

these hands
how they love you
as lips to your song
of a place
I was going
someday

near a bend
in the river
where cattails are free
to move without music –
as one
with the waves

were rocked
by an ocean
in love with the sky
remade us to story
of clouds
filled with rain

how distant
endearing –
the thundering boom
rattles the windows
when I hold you
this way

. . .

destiny shared ~

11 Friday Jul 2014

Posted by tornadoday in folklore, Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

bliss, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, dreams, fearless, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, love, nature, old maps, passion, places I am, reason, restless, southern, spirit, truth, understanding, value, wandering, wonder

gracesunderfire

this place
surely heaven
was fell from the dark
– a destiny shared
with luna
and lark

saved not by graces
or a night without dreams
of love growing silent –
remember

the lucid white weave
of present
to past
will never my first
be as sweet as the last

to lay me down
easy
beneath southern skies
where blackberry blooms
in December

. . .

every night ~

04 Friday Jul 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

bliss, cherokee, closer now to heaven than the stars, connection, dreams, family, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, home, knowledge, life, love, nature, old maps, poetry, postmark, reason, restless, spirit, truth, understanding, value, wandering

kentucky

queen anne’s lace
is held in place
by eighteen miles of nothing
but promise
that I might be coming
home

before a prayer
can get me there –
too late for Sunday supper
an empty plate
and someone waits
the night

gazing out on dusty fields
as whispers to the dark
ten thousand
precious wishes
for a star

as feathers fall
to quiet –
an angel on the pond
blessings weight
the memory
of every love
I’ve known

. . .

dearest me ~

02 Wednesday Jul 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

bliss, breath, conscious consciousness, dreams, fearless, grace, gravel roads, kentucky, life, living, love, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, relationship, restless, southern, spirit, strength, understanding, value, wonder

promisestokeep

beyond the reach
of worry –
the muddy feet of dreams –
sunlight paints the floor
and junebugs cry
while racing thru
the kitchen
a river golden green
mistaken me for windows
opening

to make a song
of summer
glories into vine
purple dress as gypsies wore
in circles dancing round
holding hands
together
telling lies

of dearest me
in letters bound –
by scarlet ribbon fate
a fortune left in dishes
cardboard home
beside the ghost
of wishes –
last year’s Christmas tree
soiled linen graces
neath the sink

someone meant
to warn me –
someone said of luck
the crickets sing
of broken hearts too much
one more sun
than I could think
of reasons not to go
when all the windows
open
to the night

. . .

returned as stars ~

25 Wednesday Jun 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, home, knowledge, life, living, love, nature, old maps, postmark, reason, restless, resurrection, soul, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, wandering, wisdom, wonder

SONY DSC

where began
my way to blossom –
was once a light
the darkness braved
but for the hope
of my surrender –
fell across the night
to save

these lowly tears
are sweet permission
fill the bath
to coming home
a soul returned
as stars to wander
backwards unto bliss –
my own

. . .

dreams of before ~

20 Friday Jun 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

becoming, conscious consciousness, destiny, divine this, dreams, faith, family, fearless, grace, knowledge, life, love, memory, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, relationship, restless, spirit, strength, understanding, value, wandering, wisdom

whereIamknown

twilight
and one more
destiny filled
by the red crimson glow
of a place by the hearth
warmed me the same
as another
I wandered
to forget all I knew
I had known

like the sweet sons
and fathers
of every goodbye
so sure they were gathered
somewhere
lessons for others
lay side by side
asleep now in dreams
of before

delicate chords
to silence lay claim
betrayal of truth written here
as anything less
than a sacred I will
as lips tasting still
every sigh –
every tear

ages to pass
as moments of treasure –
and who will be left
still to know
the way the sun
perched on the edge
of forever
held by a breath
letting go

. . .

between time ~

18 Wednesday Jun 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, Rambling, Storytelling

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

age, connection, conscious consciousness, faith, fearless, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, living, love, old maps, passion, reason, restless, seasons, spirit, strength, time, truth, understanding, value, wonder

GeorgiastillEarlier this week, I noted that a dear friend was having a birthday. He turns 91 today, and I’ll call him this afternoon and we’ll fill the space until I’m  home. I look forward to the conversation, and yet am also painfully aware that it might be the last time I talk to him on his birthday. As he gets older (we all get older), it’s a realization I can no longer ignore, and whatever ‘last time’ we shared becomes the last time ever.

There’s something obviously sad about that, and yet I wonder whether we wouldn’t be better off to treat every time as if it were the last.

Years ago, I attended college about an hour down the road from home. I lived on campus, but went home every chance I got. Most weekends, I was back mowing grass or working in the garden. For enough times that I can remember, I’d leave on Sunday afternoon and get twenty miles down the way before turning around. It would suddenly occur to me that I didn’t tell my daddy I loved him, or didn’t hug and kiss my mama. Maybe even then, I felt the pull of that ‘last time’.

Perhaps that’s the real wonder of living in the now – such that every time is the first and every time, the last – such that this (this between time) is all that matters.

Let us spend it lovingly.

the last time that we spoke
leaves were falling down
lines I could have written
to that day
but all I knew (of verses)
was the way you said my name
as sunlight split apart
in pools of grey

the last time that we spoke
was a promise
not to grieve
the taste of tears
a moment here (always)
no one more kiss to hold us
for days (for lives) between
lines I could have written
to that day

the last time that we spoke
of secrets yet unknown
so much I should have said
(I didn’t say)
about the way I miss you
when leaves are falling down
lines I could have written
to that day

. . .

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Poetic Thoughts

Benjamin Grossman

Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic

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A daily selection of the best content published on WordPress, collected for you by humans who love to read.

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Poetry about Life, Love, Music by Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet

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Flared and prepared.

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