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tornadoday

~ …might I be found in words I leave behind

tornadoday

Tag Archives: writing

weight of words ~

30 Wednesday Dec 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

always we begin, and still, belonging to none, grace, life, longing, love, poet, story, time, verse, writing

another sun
will I remember
the weight of words
beneath my bed –
empty pages
grieve the story
verses trapped inside
my head

passions rise
to ink stained fingers
memory met
with practiced hand –
seasons fill
my pen with longing
for life I’m want
to understand

truth is cleft
as will surrendered
stored to cold
my pillow waits –
another time
a chance for taking
as heart to hand
– this silence
aches

. . .

silver mine ~

08 Thursday Oct 2020

Posted by tornadoday in home, Poetry, spirituality

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

love, memory, poetry, returning, solace, sometimes, soul memory, time, truth, words, writing

I shall gather
to pages
these remnants of you
reminders now written
in rhyme
I shall paint
every moment
of days worn together –
warm cappucine
silver mine

sweet
my surrender
so often and still
when shadows are come
to do as they will
I will bind my heart
to words
we both know –
whispers carved deep
to my soul

. . .

verses left undone ~

18 Tuesday Aug 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

blessings, closer to heaven than the stars, joy, life, love, poetry, seasons, starting now, treasure, voice, witness, words, writing

when comes the end
and I’ve no reason
for keeping time
this way –

no choice of words
I might have said
given one more day

no space allowed
no higher road –
than this already run

when comes the dawn
I’m without rhyme
– verses
left undone

what then shall I
when without voice –
tell of love I knew

what words will I
surrender –
when I remember you

. . .

indigo blood ~

19 Friday Jun 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

leaves, life, love, pages, poetry, rhyme, verse, what a poet knows, writing

whereIamyou

I have not
permission –
this breath to allow
visions
how sweetly
they come to me now

when I had
forgotten
the warmth of your hands
– the touch
of your fingers
to mine

pages and pages
scattered by rhyme –
letters like leaves
falling down

love resurrected
from indigo blood –
thought
seldom spoken
aloud

. . .

what is ~

09 Tuesday Jun 2020

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

feeling, just so, night, poet, poetry, truth, verses, want, will, without rhyme, words, writing

whereIamknown

foolish fall
of lust to line –
jealous need to write
perilous the pen
within the sanctity
of night

verses
left to meaning –
dare the heart to feel
words without dimension
for what is not
and what is real

. . .

beyond the reach of us ~

16 Thursday Aug 2018

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality, Storytelling

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

age, blessings, days between, dreams, home, life, love, moments, muse, seasons, story, time, writing

wherestillIknow

he thought i was an angel
the evidence of grace –
an evermore he daring
dreamed –
with ink to score
the page

he warned
of time and certain tears –
I pretended not to know
of days beyond the reach of us
a place too far
to go

he pressed to me
and I to him –
in curs’ed rite
of storied bliss
recalled another coming home
with vows of tenderness

. . .

from then returned ~

25 Monday Jul 2016

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

knowing, letters, life, love, time, truth, value, worth, writing

lettershome

was yesterday
I wrote of us
in swirls of purple ink
joined my name
more than once with yours
tethered hooks
to tame my lines
with hearts of indigo
vines a shade of violet
still I love

silver streams
between and just
circled with my soul –
evermore arrived
and all I knew
was destiny
a truth unknown
a path
from then returned
cursive touching
hands beneath
the page

. . .

already ~

29 Friday Jan 2016

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, verse

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

just this, life, love, rambling, sometimes I don't know why, writing

onthewaytoyou

how is it
we’ve returned again
to know the path behind
seeing for the first
another way

reminders of an evermore
we swore to keep beside
where was I
and where for you
I weep

lullabies
I sing alone
whene’er I hear your name
or read of lines
already
I’ve betrayed

the lesson
for the one more kiss
one more lifetime
yet
beyond the breath
wherein the dawn
is laid

. . .

stories we have been ~

25 Friday Sep 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

bliss, love, page, remembrance, revealing, sacred, story, time, writing

fromheretoyou

the best of words
have no sound
no limits
on the soul
sink with fearsome ink
into the skin

to lie against
the living
stories we have been
cold
when comes
the night to grieve
again

sunday hymns
we honor still
play in ancient dreams
lives are passed –
it seems no time
at all

let
and I’ll be waiting
here
beneath each tender line
with eager pen
tho not a word
be mine

. . .

worn out rhyme ~

29 Wednesday Apr 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, Storytelling

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

becoming, blessings, destiny, divine, faith, fearless, forgotten, getting on, grace, gravel roads, home, just this, letting go, living, love, postmark, provision, rambling, reaching, tears, truth, understanding, unremembered, value, want, writing, writing in the dark

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.

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