12 Thursday Oct 2017
Posted in Poetry
Tags
becoming, bliss, breath, connection, destiny, grace, knowledge, life, living, love, old maps, passion, poetry, spirit, strength, understanding
heaven
is never
as close as was then
warmth
to my cold
fingertips
somebody wrote
themselves into story
e’en now
I remember
the way –
the essence
of light
when stilled
by surrender
purpose made sweeter
by the giving
away
a shimmering
promise
of love yet
becoming
the same as was
morning –
found new
on the day
. . .
28 Friday Jul 2017
Posted in Poetry
Tags
destiny, home, intimacy, journey, learning to live, love, memories, one in our togetherness, sharing, strength, treasure, truth, worth
of time
I’ve held my measure
moments
(o so fine)
lives
and lives before
I knew
(remember)
pages
of a color –
words
(my favored few)
all I hold
is holding (still)
another other
truth
come
as winter softens
by the light
(a softer glow)
for memories
to gather
(from the cold)
of roads
we thought (forever)
a coming back
enough
for a moment (touching
heaven)
time becoming
love
. . .
01 Monday May 2017
Posted in Poetry
where
beginning
just this now
from roots forgotten fell
to make of weeds
a bushel more
than e’er my lips
could tell
from whispers
once a secret kept
awake most all night long
words I scarce remember
yet my heart
has made to song
where paper fails
shelves
where none are felt
a vault is lined
with buttercups
and lace
linen was my color
more lavender than blue
verse infused
to fill my blood
with you
. . .
30 Wednesday Mar 2016
As of late, I’ve felt the gentle pull of time, tender reminders that the road before isn’t quite as long as the one behind.
Twilight cools on an old porch, as the sun fades. Violets soften in the shadows, lavender etched by lace.
Breath is stilled by the assurance of the stars, a look back to where they shine, unaccustomed to the wish not yet made.
gather me sweetly
as a name first rehearsed
a line
unwritten to rhyme
verse and there
to places
where grace
is held apart –
words
beneath my pillow
o the night
. . .
07 Wednesday Oct 2015
Posted in Storytelling
Tags
acceptance, come heavy, courage, family, grace, life, love, psalms, strength, trust, truth, value
An associate at work shared this with me. Some things deserve to be passed along.
****
A psychologist walked around a room while teaching stress management to an audience. As she raised a glass of water, everyone expected they’d be asked the “half empty or half full” question. Instead, with a smile on her face, she inquired: “How heavy is this glass of water?”
Answers called out ranged from 8 oz. to 20 oz.
She replied, “The absolute weight doesn’t matter. It depends on how long I hold it. If I hold it for a minute, it’s not a problem. If I hold it for an hour, I’ll have an ache in my arm. If I hold it for a day, my arm will feel numb and paralyzed. In each case, the weight of the glass doesn’t change, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it becomes.”
She continued, “The stresses and worries in life are like that glass of water. Think about them for a while and nothing happens. Think about them a bit longer and they begin to hurt. And if you think about them all day long, you will feel paralyzed – incapable of doing anything.”
Remember to put the glass down from time to time.
. . .
from here
the heart is heavy
with weight
most surely long
though not for
love’s enduring
either make
a grace unknown
and guarding
of truths we cannot lose
a step or two
from once
we were
begun
. . .
10 Thursday Sep 2015
Posted in Poetry, Storytelling
9/9/2015
9:06 PM
Much of my life, there have been moments when I prayed for patience. Surely all of us, at one time or another, have been admonished against such a foolish plea. For patience, as with most things worth our wanting, comes only when paid for – with struggles, sorrow, and sleepless nights.
But I was talking with a friend about my father (daddy) and the treasure that is sometimes torturous – the gifts of holding on and the gifts of letting go. It’s a talk that opens us up, allowing in clarity of that which matters most.
The Tennessee Vols play their first home game this Saturday, and while I’d love for them to win, it’s nowhere on my list of what matters most. It matters to me only because it matters to others I love. But on my list? Not even in the top ten thousand.
I find myself unable to focus on anything much beyond the weekend, beyond the sharing of a moment which can be stretched to hold an eternity. A touch, a stillness, an understanding which eclipses everything else I know.
But patience – yeah, I pray for that. I imagine God is getting a bit giddy, waiting for my daddy. I imagine him sitting on the front porch of heaven with a couple of cane poles. I suspect he’s got some company too – after all, it’s been a long wait for many, and surely the fish are always biting.
“I ask you to be patient. He’ll be home soon enough. But, if You don’t mind my asking – not today. Be patient.”
Love is the permanent reminder of the places we’ve known, the times we’ve shared, and home, we never thought to leave.
. . .
11 Monday May 2015
Posted in Poetry, Storytelling
Tags
angels, becoming, bliss, daddy, eternal, faith, family, gravel roads, happiness, home, knowing, story, strength, truth, value
was e’er a time
and I the same
though still too small
for knowing
the ways for which
I surely came
the cause for love
bestowing
a breath
within my tiny breath
hands to hold mine
still
stories you were telling
I’ve become
tears where yours
are falling
voice I hear at night
paths I wander
backwards
into you
for daddy
May 2015
04 Monday May 2015
Posted in a time for telling, Poetry
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….”
. . .
02 Saturday May 2015
Posted in Poetry
leave me the letters
black and white versions
hands fit the same
as remembered me now
lace softly weaved
into shadows
awaiting
gathered to story
made of my days
a tiny white map
as distance
erased
by the coming and going
time
every time
relearning the path
we were destined
to find
writ to the places
given a sign
a lifetime –
a moment
remember
. . .
27 Monday Apr 2015
Posted in Poetry
Tags
choice, faith, grace, home, love, nearer, seasons, smoke, sometimes, strength, unremembering, war
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
. . .
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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