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tornadoday

~ …might I be found in words I leave behind

tornadoday

Tag Archives: seasons

a moment of something ~

15 Friday May 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

change, divine, forever this, go ahead, gravel roads, home, let me, life, love, postmark, sacred intimacy, save the best, seasons, time, twilight

nowagain

I’m the same
as remembered
though years
pressed between
linen
stained by a rose
a moment
of something
graces me still
a photo
come loose
at the corners
where dates are penned
gray
and names are
erased
by the turning of leaves
light through the page
where once
we were something
once we were well
on our way
to the same
ever after
as easy as breathing
in an ocean
of stars
fixed on another
hello
where have you been
how is it I know
what was truth
I am still
the same

. . .

on your pillow one day ~

14 Thursday May 2015

Posted by tornadoday in perfect country song, Poetry, Rambling

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

a good country song, allowance, already, beginning, fearless, goodbye, gravel roads, home, letting go, life, love, maybe now, rambling, seasons, somewhere I don't know, time

dragonfly

stop talking
go on
no crying to mama
bout the absence
of plans –
a dream
growing old
hurry
don’t let the door
get in your way
of times
you discovered
one more reason
to stay
promise discerned
by the pulling apart
and notes
I left home
on your pillow
one day
clinging to chances
fortunate few –
a touch
not so hard
to resist
leave by the light
of a love
I’ll remember
words
worried cold
as the last time
we kissed

. . .

blue ~

27 Monday Apr 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

choice, faith, grace, home, love, nearer, seasons, smoke, sometimes, strength, unremembering, war

battleblue

of wars
I’ve no memory
but the sweet smell
of smoke
and a distance
who knew
we were going
ready for battle
guilty regret
for the last we recall
letting go
when taps started
playing
who rose to dance
cleft from the heart
you were breaking
saved by the passage
of blue into light
safe from
remembering
war

. . .

as saturdays to june ~

12 Tuesday Aug 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

bliss, breath, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, fearless, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, love, nature, old maps, passion, reason, seasons, spirit, strength, truth, value, wonder

Saturday was a teaching day, and heat was already rising off the sweaty grass.  But as I made my way from the car, my ears were pricked by the sound of wings. Odd that it hadn’t occurred to me, but until that moment, and yet I’m fairly certain I hadn’t seen a June bug all summer. But on the lawn, they were swarming. I noticed a female student running from them, and I laughed. I reminded her that they wouldn’t sting, and at least they weren’t cicadas. [I recall an evening drive with my window down when two got into my car, and I thought several times of abandoning it on the roadside]. Further along, a couple of guys were fumbling, trying to tie one to a length of thread. Though tempted to scold, I suspected the string would give out before the bug.

The song permeated the river of humidity, and it was a good day.

fillme

Saturday
and june bugs
made their plans
a lazy drive
as heat to wear
in sleeves of golden grain
above the last reminder
of a season
nearly done –
when brothers
dug their heels into the mud
and dared another
life to dream
of will and circumstance
a leaving split apart
by destinies
the choosing
was for nothing
but the choice to understand –
the cost
betrayed by living
as Saturday
to june

. . .

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

. . .

we carry ~

05 Monday May 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Storytelling

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

becoming, breath, connection, death, faith, family, fearless, grace, grief, knowledge, living, loss, love, memory, old maps, passion, reason, relationship, resurrection, seasons, spirit, truth, understanding, value

whereIamOur days are spotted by loss and grief……….and a world of well-meaning people who pat us on the back and tell us ‘everything will be okay’. And surely it will, but it will not be the same. I feel sad for the soul who doesn’t understand – that some hurts aren’t meant to scab over. I have lost many who I loved deeply, and I’ve yet to find any other person who could perfectly fit into the place left by another. It cannot be done, and it shouldn’t be. Our healing isn’t about getting us back to ‘normal’; it’s about learning how to live (to love) even when much of who we are seems to have been lost.

In times of great sorrow, my only joy seemed in the moments just after waking, a time when I could almost convince myself that it was all a dream. But over time, I found another joy – an almost secret knowledge – that I’ve not lost a one. I sit cross-legged on the floor with a cup of coffee by shear habit, a nature……..and yet, my grandmother is there. I laugh and beneath the squealing pitch of a little girl, the timber that is my grandpa’s voice. My granny lifts the cup to her lips, with pinkie extended just so……..and more than once, I’ve felt the calm reassurance of my uncle’s hand at the small of my back. Some store away treasure in cedar, but the real treasure is that which we carry – all who have loved us, in us, still.

If we know heartbreak, then we must also know love. If loss, then surely abundance. Joy sits many a night on the same bed as once we mourned. Our ability to hurt, to break, to fall……there are blessings unaware, reminders of the times we laughed, danced, and soared. Always, we are blessed. Let us not forget the letting in letting go.

❤

stay
that I might tell you
of times before the fall
for prehistoric winters
might I grieve

the leaving
for the welcome back
poetry you wrote
now again
a promise to believe

verses of surrender
confession
heard the same
as ancient constellations
to pretend

the path
was never easy
as getting back to one
a forest grew
to block the view
again

held me here
one faraway
decision to return
across a sky of blue
another day

slipped
into the ocean
embrace of waking arms
as breezes come
to carry me
away

❤

glimpses ~

22 Saturday Mar 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, verse

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, connection, conscious consciousness, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, living, love, nature, old maps, passion, reflection, seasons, seeing in the dark, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, value, wonder

hererighthere

we are fireflies
floating in mists of memory
caught in silence
kept with smiles
slight nods of the head
a tear misting the eye
lovers’ intimate knowing
and each of these short-lived wonders
teach us with sparkling glimpses
of truth from their tiny golden lights –
that darkness is a soft pillow
to slow our souls
from the overflow of sensations
as wonders to allow us breath
between the emotions –
and then marvel at each vision
a winking evening star
or a dew covered rose
born of our dreams

. . .

reverie ~

20 Thursday Mar 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Awards, Poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

becoming, bliss, cherokee, connection, conscious consciousness, cycles, equinox, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, love, memory, nature, passion, reason, seasons, seeing in the dark, spirit, spring, truth, wisdom, wonder

wildflowers_by_lux_ex_machina-d6u15pc

Spring did arrive with April’s feathered touch
in yellow blossoms much too rich for Fall –
but waited again the burnt Summer sun,
and grieved not a moment for Winter’s pall.

In melodies written on Sparrow’s wing,
the deep blue umbrella held fast the rain –
so long that time had ceased to remember
the cool December from whence longing came.

What season left behind is ours to keep
another page of eternity sweet –
would linger still in our heart evermore,
as snowflakes melted the first Summer heat.

Were yesterday’s promise so far away –
but want for remembrance of Winter today.

. . .

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

familiarsun

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

. . .

a faraway forgot ~

24 Monday Feb 2014

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

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

alzheimers, becoming, connection, faith, family, fearless, grace, gravel roads, life, living, love, memory, old maps, reason, restless, seasons, spirit, surrender, time, truth, understanding, unremembering

fearlessfalling

when all I know
the winter takes
without regard
to want
blankets pulled aside
and windows
wide

as welcome
to another life
was last
the first to go
a fond farewell
as kisses
on my brow

stories
I was meaning
to tell
before the night
was folded in
to fill
my wondering

backward
to beginning –
a baby once again
cradled
to a faraway
forgot

. . .

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Poetic Thoughts

Benjamin Grossman

Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic

Discover WordPress

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

Walt's Writings

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

Silent Fingers

~ journey of a rose scented ink ~

houseofheartweb.wordpress.com/

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Exploring the epiphany

Seasonings

Just a little poetry...

Revelation

MyWorldsInWords

View my worlds

yelena's poetry

Now & Then

The fears of a girl, the heart of a woman, and everything inbetween...

Blonde in Flares

Flared and prepared.

Ziyaad poet

Just a cup of poetry and cookies

The Reluctant Poet

A Discovery of Enlightening Insights, Information, Humor, Writings and Musings

Dr. Eric Perry’s Blog

Motivate | Inspire | Uplift

Broken roads of Destiny

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Thoughts and feelings made into words about the world and times in which we live ...

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