Tag Archives: sometimes

not a poet ~

31 Wednesday Mar 2021

Posted by in home, Poetry

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paint my blush
as roses –
my kiss
a cherry wine
fill me with your story –
and I shall give you
mine

a painter
not a poet –
a writer made to bleed
take my ears
so they might learn
the ways you came
for me

steal my breath
my every word
verse I thought to pen
take of rhyme surrendered
– and write it
to my skin

paint my dreams
by candle –
my morning with your smile
leave the stars
to wonder
where we go

. . .

sometimes ~

05 Friday Mar 2021

Posted by in a time for telling, Poetry

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I’ve made peace
with where you are
(another part of me)
can’t see your sun
from where I sleep at night
can’t listen
as you tell me
what of this is everything
where the story ends
and who you love

from every dream
another came
(tho none to take your place)
some nights I walk for miles
before I see
a star I know is glowing
just as brightly where you are
sometimes I weep
sometimes I laugh
sometimes I hit my knees

I wonder
(as you know I do)
to fill a busy space
do your eyes still hold
the colors of the moon
are there wrinkles
where your smile became
a place I loved
to kiss
would your arms
still reach around
eternity

. . .

whene’er you sleep ~

01 Monday Mar 2021

Posted by in Poetry, Rambling, spirituality

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in the mellow
afternoon
where you sit
the day alone
fumbling with your papers
with your keys
images replay
every time you close
your eyes
she waits you know
in dreams
whene’er you sleep
just beyond
the memory
of just beyond the trees
music plays
how much louder must
it be
to obscure the loss
erase the cost
how much
before you answer
the silence
of your need

. . .

tethered to the trees ~

12 Friday Feb 2021

Posted by in Poetry, Rambling, spirituality

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of riches
I have nothing
but the memory of love
gathered close as breath
near as touch

the soul remembers
lest I faint
was lost
tho I am not
faith has kept me
tethered to the trees

drifting
on an evening gale
life restored
as choice to be
held within a promise –
a seeker sure to see

the world is changing
as am I
as e’er were we
to start
racing toward forever
not a breath apart

as certain grace
a holy place
reserved
of none I own
a tender prayer
is whispered there
faraway
is here
and I can’t tell the difference
between love
and letting go

let the truth
in living
fold around
the memory of where
I’ll be
some wiser sun
will pull me from the branches
trailing winds
where once
I was set free

. . .

all that matters ~

17 Thursday Dec 2020

Posted by in home, Poetry, spirituality, verse

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til I am faded
into pitch –
the memory of touch
almost erased
with no one to remember
why it was
or what it meant
how deep the soul’s
surrender
to something deeper still
written to the places
love has been

I’ve made my peace
had my say
with verses
o’er the years –
tempted fate more times
than were confessed
borrowed
from the ledger
of tomorrows left to spare
gave my love at times
for something less

a name
almost forsaken
awakes from tired dreams
to warm against
the heart –
with all that matters
a silent recollection
of days
beyond our count
and nights
we waited long
the morning after

. . .

evening bell ~

09 Wednesday Dec 2020

Posted by in Poetry, spirituality, verse

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along the way
Christmas twinkles
in strings of red and green
starlight scattered
softly o’er the snow
and in the face
where once the moon
remembered why we came
angels tip their
golden wings
below

silence spills
o holy night
and I am lost for words
to ease the ache
I find in everything
days my heart has worried
are taken back again
by One who waits
the evening bell
to ring

. . .

beyond the dream ~

10 Tuesday Nov 2020

Posted by in Poetry, spirituality

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sometimes
a whole day passes
and I am left the same –
no less than words would bury
a shadow of me remains

some nights
I fear the crying
of night birds on the rise –
thought is splintered into rhyme
and I dare not close
my eyes

sometimes
I wake beyond the dream
where there’s no proof of us –
no morning I might trade again
for the memory
of your touch

it’s not the same
we’re not the same
as once we were a longing filled
it seems my mind has forgotten –
what my soul
remembers still

. . .