27 Wednesday Sep 2017
Posted in Poetry
of years
where none are written
but the ways
I came to you
cross shores
and crimson moorings
to your side
of age
what use in counting
lest I wake
to find you here
no less
for seasons scattered
as verse upon
the tide
. . .
14 Monday Nov 2016
Posted in Poetry
Tags
dreaming awake, home, kisses, leaves falling, love, nature, noonday, returning, spinning, time, wandering
as a waterfall
maple –
the color of love
of blood
was the believer
come
waltzing in silence
toes gliding so
‘cross ages
when you loved me
(I know)
the seasons
restarted –
a flower renamed
where yesterday’s
seed
slept alone
dreaming of somewheres
another goodbye
– ways we might
wander (again)
caught in the spinning
of blushing to gold
leaves where a kiss
couldn’t go
. . .
27 Thursday Oct 2016
Posted in Poetry, Storytelling
bittersweet
a lovely word
speaks to ways I’ve known
a path or two
grown heavy to the briar
biscuits sometimes
much too hard
jelly to the jar
places I was going
faded now
not much left
for writing –
too much truth to tell
years
where silver grey
the earth grows hard
when for a while
I walk beneath
stars to shine
the same
as once I knew them
every one
bittersweet
they burn
. . .
21 Sunday Aug 2016
Posted in Poetry
Tags
becoming, grace, light, love, old maps, passion, spirit, truth, understanding, wandering, wisdom
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
. . .
28 Monday Mar 2016
Tags
all I know, allowing, gravel roads, life, love, remembering, roads to home, sacred intimacy, sometimes, wandering
of moments
some unworthy
I’ve forgotten
where they went
roads I thought
might get me back
to home
loosened by a memory
kept aside the same
words where none
would matter
anyway
how it was
and where I left
these pieces of my soul –
to question
who would notice
what was gone
dreaming
has a way about
of bringing us around
along the road
we wandered
yesterday
. . .
17 Thursday Mar 2016
Posted in Poetry, Storytelling
ruby crush
as sapphire
comes to roost
outside my door
morning
finds a place
where lovers wait
beyond the reach
of shadow –
a song
I strain to hear
a wanderer
made home again
leans against
the gate
lilac taints
the walkway –
where honeysuckle
climbs
to meet at once
a star
she meant to claim
some far away
forgotten here
except by butterflies
a lazy bee
who knows them all
by name
. . .
26 Tuesday May 2015
Posted in Poetry
Tags
assurance, beauty, blessings, bliss, gravel roads, here, home, joy, letting go, love, sometimes, starting, truth, unremembering, value, wandering
can we ever
live it over –
leave from places
now forgot
making butterflies
paper
from the moon
remembered
where the going –
was for times
we couldn’t stay
a sunrise
like no other
burned again
lives
becoming stories
of the falling
into you
the taste of home –
a kiss
within a name
. . .
09 Saturday May 2015
Posted in Poetry
Tags
becoming, cherokee, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, faith, fearless, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, living, love, old maps, passion, reason, spirit, truth, understanding, value, wandering
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
. . .
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….”
. . .
13 Monday Apr 2015
Posted in Poetry, Storytelling
Tags
beauty, becoming, beginning, bliss, connection, conscious consciousness, gravel roads, home, life, love, poetry, storytelling, touch, wandering
from another
new beginning us
remembered now
as one
were never more
but come as may
another we
begun
from stories
might some other tell
of nights
we dared not sleep
of mornings sweet
to lie awake
warmed by all
we keep
. . .
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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