less traveled ~

begonia
the color of Revlon 09
last year’s kiss
almost gone
brushed to the suede
green gloves of remiss
ached
where steps ran
flush with the porch
not long
til all we have left
of the winter
is a place where he stood
in the snow
peering through windows
while inside
we glowed
fat with the memory
of blossom
to come

. . .

verses of cinder ~

03 Sunday Mar 2013

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, connection, destiny, dreams, fearless, grace, life, living, love, memory, old maps, passion, poetry, postmark, restless, spirit, strength, wandering, wisdom

2010

how many seasons
circles confessed
where once we did share
a dance neath
the clouds
swimming and swaying
was something like praying –
and wondered I then
would you remember
my touch

blossoming flower
with will
to surrender
lying the night
in the shade of the moon
wrapped in each other
as secrets so tender
words meant for wasting
pulled dreams
into life

write on my soul
verses of cinder
– to hold
as once I did you –
rocked in your cradles
died in your arms
and whittled my name –
to your hands
kissed were the roads
of miles
passed between

the first of forever
I knew

. . .

souvenirs ~

02 Saturday Mar 2013

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

beauty, becoming, cherokee, connection, earth, environment, fearless, forgiveness, grace, knowledge, life, living, love, nature, old maps, passion, signs, spirit, spirituality, strength, truth, understanding, value, wandering, wisdom, wonder

backwards
and still –
I come every time
forgetting again
what was never my lot –
a river of feathers
float on the air
crushed by the branches
in rush
to the sea

of white
honeysuckle
the hardest
of pearls –
hands thick as bark
beaded briar
whispers long buried
as story with stone
lacey white nest
of the earth

wing’ed the velvet
of once magic swords
pass as a thought into day –
stallions embarked
on paths cross the deep
nature foretelling
the depth of
our sins

ripples are tracing
paths –
thru the black
lost are the seasons
unspoken by name
babies are crying
somewhere past the dark –
stars feel their way
to the sun

. . .

never far ~

01 Friday Mar 2013

Posted by tornadoday in folklore, Poetry, verse

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

bliss, connection, destiny, dreams, faith, fearless, grace, gravel roads, life, living, love, nature, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, relationship, restless, someday, spirit, star crossed, strength, truth, value, wandering, wisdom

of meadows
made longing
the ways (never far)
through the winds
o’er the seas –
to wherever
you are

one moment
a lifetime –
maybe three
(I don’t care)
were the journey
forever –
in finding
you there

in the song
of a cricket –
the nightbird’s reply
has given me faith –
in your sweet
lullaby

e’er the soul
be reminded –
of another I knew
a truth not forsaken
in my waiting
for you

. . .

measure ~

01 Friday Mar 2013

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

bliss, cherokee, death, destiny, faith, family, fearless, forgiveness, grace, immortality, knowledge, life, living, love, memory, old maps, passion, postmark, relationship, resurrection, soul signature, spirit, spirituality, strength, understanding, wandering, wisdom

were only these days –
the weight of our life
a moment
surrendered
to stone
dying denied
the sweetest caress
are names – nothing more
than a measure
of bone

as years
left behind –
find their way
to another
a breeze through the window
where perfume remains
of a place
we were gifted
by love to let go
shall lie in the fullness
of hearts (can we know)

how many
how precious
the blossoming seed
will thrive
in the shade
where talk is allowed –
as our story retold
with the slightest
regret

is essence recalled
by the soul
living yet

. . .

unfinished ~

28 Thursday Feb 2013

Posted by tornadoday in folklore, Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

bliss, death, destiny, fearless, forgiveness, grace, life, living, love, old maps, passion, reason, restless, sorrow, spirit, strength, truth, understanding, weakness, wisdom

let me not
an ending be –
or seams sewn taught
by time
let me not
the blossom –
without thorn

as dust pervades
a polished floor
with imprints of the past
bless’ed soul
– this calling out
to be

keep me not
afraid to fall –
til all have felt my ache
as voices roll
beside me
in the dark

grant me not
a place forgot –
but shining brighter still
for those who fell
another day –
my brokenness
to heal

let me not
forgiveness save
within my eager breast
or kisses
tainted lies –
I shall not give
this longing rest

let me not
when time is gone
be haunted by regret
would seal within
my grieving –
gratefulness

hymns where none
are playing –
light beyond this light
if e’er my love
be finished –
I am none

. . .

golden ~

28 Thursday Feb 2013

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

becoming, breath, connection, destiny, faith, fearless, grace, life, living, love, memory, old maps, passion, reason, relationship, resurrection, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, wandering, wisdom

what names
have you known me
what body to hold
was the last (time –
your first) to remember
a sweet disregarding
of longing console
endeared
by the search
as a turning of leaves
scarlet to golden
(November)

seeded (to thought)
a beginning unknown
as promises made
without (more)
blessing to bother
or fates to endure
would life become
(missing)
the rest
drawn as the stars
into falling (again)
whispering vapor to flame

what names
have you known me
what body to hold
was the last (time –
your first) to remember

. . .

cool before falling ~

27 Wednesday Feb 2013

Posted by tornadoday in folklore, Poetry

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

bliss, cherokee, destiny, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, kentucky, life, love, nature, old maps, passion, relationship, restless, southern, spirit, strength, truth, wandering, wilderness, wisdom

marigold taxi
I remember the fever
was blushed on the berries
– thorns to my skin
breathless the trek
to a place
in the forest –
where sworn you would come
to claim me again

for every transgression –
another
I love you –
was consequence
weighed in moments
so sweet
hands spoke in quiet
of distances over –
where words came
unraveled
in mid-summer heat

the timbers
were prying –
as angels stood
watching
the giving of graces
one afternoon long
calmed by the weaving
of light through the branches
– a cool before falling
as the world
slumbered on

. . .