Tag Archives: understanding

couldn’t sing ~

10 Thursday Nov 2016

Posted by in Poetry, Rambling

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whereIamknown

was awakened
by a dream
(pieces falling into place)
a promise
given clarity
as evermore to grace

from birth
a quest for wisdom
came questions still to ask
such pleasure
with the seeking
each mystery surpassed

and tho the house
was empty
but for birds
along the wall
they couldn’t sing
(they wouldn’t sing)
were frightened by it all

so taken by insanity
at last I knew the rest
what pages had been missing
returned as consequence
when someone chose for others
what each should choose alone
would take you there
if mine to do
would gladly bare you home

I couldn’t sleep
the hours passed
as shadows rearranged
what longing knew
his away around
(truth I wouldn’t change)
always here
I see that now
I’d looked for
somewhere else
was sleeping on my pillow
searching for myself

was always here
(I wonder)
of moments
now recalled
did I share this fate
with breakfast
what nightbird strained
to call
who watched me
from a distance
storied arms
too weak to fight
taken down
forsaken paths
in shadows of the night

approaching dawn
was tennessee
out beyond my fears
papered birds now gather
these sacred psalms
to hear

. . .

no ordinary feeling ~

21 Sunday Aug 2016

Posted by in Poetry

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onceuponame

before the night
is scattered
by the first embrace of dawn
for moments then
I float in half awake
with thought to more
than earthly care
visions passed between
– nothing
I’m prepared
to give away

(if evermore)
a moment come
and always at my will
no ordinary feeling
wraps me sweet
within the still

embraced by this
surrender
more than breath –
or hands to hold
love that has no measure
brings a solace
to my soul

sun that begs
these buds to tremble
my sleepy eyes to sight
awakened by a
promise –
writ in messages
of light

lest I wander
past the leaving
and will my spirit
home –
to the heart
that keeps my pillow –
the kiss that is
my own

. . .

swimming in circles ~

09 Thursday Jun 2016

Posted by in a time for telling, Poetry

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bebebe

This morning, as I arrived for work and exited my car, I heard something – an almost silent droning – like a distant lawn mower, but closer.

It was sweetly familiar and before I found the source, I knew already what I would find. In the bushes to the front of my car, I saw a discarded coffee cup sitting upright in the mulch, obviously left behind by landscapers.

Inside the cup, a bumblebee.

The cup was probably about ten inches tall, and I knew instinctively what would happen if I did nothing. The bumblebee would die in the cup. He would swarm and swarm in circles, the excessive flutter of his tiny wings echoing off the cardboard, filling the summer air with the sound of jet engines on idle. He would never think to look up. It’s their nature – to search frantically in circles for a way out where none exists.

To be honest, I used to think it was the same way with tiny birds trapped in my garage, until quite by accident, I discovered a perfect little nest inside the plastic armor that protected the garage door opener.

But back to the bumblebee. I was immediately reminded that sometimes we are the same way.  We can wear ourselves out looking for something (a way out) that doesn’t exist and never think to reach beyond our habits, beyond our preconceived notion of how things should work. It may just be a different way of frying cornbread or it could be in the way we look at love. Perhaps our clearest vision exists beyond the reach of our understanding.

“The world is full of magical things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”

reach beyond
this dusty view
into the heart
of all I am –
where mountains
stretch
to meet the clouds
where wings
unspoken soar

NOTE: For those who might be wondering, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I hadn’t knocked the cup over. Some things are worth the risk of being stung (ahhh, and there another story)…….

. . .

into the glass ~

25 Friday Mar 2016

Posted by in Poetry

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homeward

i miss
the way
you knew me when
against the shadows cast
the way you looked
beyond –
into the glass
of almost everything
i am –
less than just before
your eyes
where cooled
the sweetest shade
of only seeing more
than words
could tell –
vows returned
to promise time
and truth
i miss the way
the stars aligned
bringing me
to you

. . .

reclassified ~

11 Thursday Jun 2015

Posted by in a time for telling, Poetry, Rambling

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Try as I might, from time to time I need reminding (or, as my Ma Hutch would have said, ‘a skillet to the head’). I can get so caught up in the drama that I forget the bottom line. I neglect the one thing that matters most.

If there’s a rule by which my daddy lives, it’s simply this. “Don’t ever let a problem become bigger than a person to love.” He makes it seem easy, to be honest.

And sometimes, it is easy. Like when everyone agrees or we’re all focused on that single one brilliant thing that takes our collective breath away.428e9a870d81a921d

But most of the time, opinions get caught in the middle. Egos stand in the way. Perceptions about things that no one even witnessed – well, a lot of things get in the way. And before you know it, we’re arguing about whether it’s too early to plant watermelon or too late to start a movie.

And the thing (love) that was absolutely the most important thing is somehow ‘managed over’, reclassified into the ‘not so important’ file in error.

That’s not to say that love is forgotten (I love you; it’s the liking that hangs me up). It isn’t. It’s just a second thought, something taken for granted that never should be. It’s the lone footnote that should have been the title.

My mother meddles in things that aren’t her business. My sister struggles with demons almost 30 years old. My children and grandchildren have lives of their own, plans of their own. The moon turns a jealous eye, and before we notice, another season is passed – another time not to come again.

But if we’re lucky (so blessed), that thing that mattered (love) – it remains. When the voices are lost in argument, opinions have burned away, and the quiet settles soft like the snore of a sleeping child – it is there (still).

So, today, before I respond too quickly to an email or a text, I remind myself that nothing is bigger than my love for these. Nothing I will allow.

in fields
where yesterday
forgotten
petals crush the ground
with the memory
of every winter
frost

bring me round
one more time
before the blossom fades
let me breathe
the sweet perfume
of love –
was never
lost

. . .

the same you loved ~

09 Saturday May 2015

Posted by in Poetry

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wildflowers

what winters
have you worn away
with rosary and cotton
beneath the fold
where all your secrets lay
of heaven come
one night to find you
standing by my gate
caught between the first to leave
and coming back
to stay

with stories
of your wanderings
beyond the reach of light
with questions of your knowing
where to go
moonlight casts a shadow
on every present tense
would show the way
you knew
to find me home

wrapped in yellow flowers
once the same you loved –
grew along the pasture
a moment
passing through –
remember how
the cedars ached
to block the view of morning
of praying eyes
before the skies
were blue

how many times
have I heard tell
of blossoms in December
beyond the reach
of reason
asleep beneath the snow
flickers bloom
a sweet perfume
of mystery and madness
secrets of all colors
awaiting you
to know

. . .

worn out rhyme ~

29 Wednesday Apr 2015

Posted by in Poetry, Rambling, Storytelling

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stay

told me once
but I don’t recall
names and faces
line the hall
someone I’ve forgotten
to remember
a story passed
from son to son
a daughter came
the only one
to see beyond
the circumstance
of fences

broken by this
getting on
healed by hands
tired and worn
graces said before
the lay me down
to hear again
the sacred drum
beat with wonder
I’ve become
the answer to another
sweet amen

a fate decided
while I slept
reminders of a secret kept
and choices made
was there no choice
at all
but take of life
a moment more
of passions
locked away before
somewhere I was sure
you’d never find

a future folded
nice and neat
against the sunshine
of my sheets
way back on the shelf
of memory
dreams of people
I don’t know
crowding round to let me go
kisses where
the curtains touch
the ground

tell me how it seemed to you
give me something
I can do
speak of places
one last time
to leave

dirty dishes
everywhere
worn out rhyme
but I don’t care
they warm against
the places
you were there
taking notes
and stealing time
with promises
to fit with mine
lines to cross
eternities
of one

. . .

Author’s Note: While coffee is my drink of choice, I periodically
indulge in a hot tea – white with orange. It brings me sweet slumber,
up until the time it wakes me up for a trip down the hall. But even then,
it’s not without the benefit of words. Writing in the dark.