dear friends,
it’s been a long week and a longer winter.
i began daydreaming about the warm weather
and the annual vacation we take each August.
we rent a 5 bedroom houseboat on Holly Lake
in Tennessee and find our favorite cove and
tie up for 10 ten days.
this is a repost, i edited the form. it was written
in one sitting at 3am as i sat as i always do, on the
top deck while family and friends were asleep. this song
was playing in my headphones and this poem was inspired by
the incredible shower of shooting stars that crossed the sky.
please play the song and begin reading…ty and i hope you enjoy.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
when
the
S u n
is
busy
elsewhere…..
.
.
and
the
night
descends
upon
your
world…
.
.
in
your
S i l e n c e…
.
.
in
the
S e r e n i t y
of
forgiving
S o l i t u d e…
.
.
cast
away
the
fear,
.
.
just
S u r r e n d e r
your
heart
.
.
and
.
.
L i s t e n.
.
.
beg
your
eyes
to
open,
.
.
to
gaze
so
high
above
the
low
horizon.
.
.
there…
beyond
any
doubt
.
.
behind
the
shadow
of
constant
cloud,
.
.
S h e
can
be
seen
each
night
cajoling
every
S t a r
in
your
S k y.
.
.
B e l i e v e,
.
.
embrace
your
F a i t h.
.
.
S h e
is
O m n i p r e s e n t,
.
.
S h e
is
E v e r l a s t i n g.
.
.
S h e
is
a
daughter
of
the
U n i v e r s e,
.
.
a
S i r e n
of
S h o o t i n g
S t a r s.
.
.
her
voice
a
chorus,
.
.
a
H a r m o n y
of
every
melody
devoted
to
.
.
L o v e.
.
.
her
history
our
yearning,
.
.
the
sum
of
our
forgotten
M e m o r y.
.
.
her
shape,
a
C o s m i c
swirling
of
I n f i n i t e
density.
.
.
S h e
talks
to
S t a r s,
.
.
in
the
U n i v e r s a l
language
of
L o v e,
of
.
.
R e a s s u r a n c e.
.
.
a
S i r e n
offering
C o u r a g e
to
erase
their
fear.
.
.
‘my bashful star,
.
.
ready yourself for the voyage.
.
.
T i m e
is
N o w.’
.
.
‘oh, lovely star
.
.
hear my song,
.
.
my Melody of Love as you fly’
.
.
‘go little star!
.
blaze a trail
.
.
across the midnight sky’
.
.
and
become
N o w,
.
.
what you were always meant to Be.’
.
.
and show this world
.
.
P e r f e c t i o n,
.
.
in your moment of
.
.
E t e r n i t y.’
Friday Repost
for my new friends,
a little dig in the
archives for you.
also, today is a
travel day so my
replies will be
delayed until
later tonight. ty.
.
.
.
. scribbling
.
.
.
.
i seem
to remember
when i was a kid,
being in my
room
and
laying
on my belly
surrounded by
page after page
of white and
colored
paper.
and
each
of them
filled to the
edges, every
square inch
used up
and
how many
hours i spent
by myself,
so deep
in my
i m a g i n a t i o n
just
s c r i b b l i n g .
and it’s funny,
there was
never
the
fear of
failure then.
Friday Repost
for my new friends,
a little dig in the
archives for you.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
petals open slowly
.
.
.
across undulating fields of truthful wheat
across the window walled skyscraper cities
across churning surf and miles of embattled shore
and a mother’s loving comfort hearing her baby’s cry
know your nourishing and loyal day will arrive
an infinite Sky in her kindness and healing grace
offering all its patient memory and forgiveness
and a wisdom knowing that all petals open slowly
and renewal and its reinvention begin the day
because a child’s heart is a truth we can’t deny
my dearest friend the sun is warming at your window
and our new world awaiting to hear your hopeful reply
.
.
Who is of smiling face
Bestower of all fortunes
Whose hands are ready to
Rescue anyone from fear
It is the child in us
.
.
my morning music and a beautiful video::::enjoy::::
.
.
.
.
.
. The Angel of Redemption
.
.
.
.
.
high on a mountain
.
.
resting in the Sun washed sky,
.
.
day never meets night,
.
.
and the Stars never die.
.
.
low clouds… they wait suspended in
.
.
.
.
.
a permanent air…
.
.
alone on the peak
.
.
with the Heavens nearby,
.
.
and speaking in tongues
.
.
with her half Sister the Moon,
.
.
.
.
.
an Angel sits there.
.
.
i’ve traveled this jagged path
. .
.
of a difficult life,
.
.
plateau… by plateau,
.
.
reaching… time and… again
.
.
.
.
.
climbing this mountain of strife.
.
.
and restless souls
.
.
sleep the sleep of despair,
.
.
while we stumble…
.
.
stumble blind
.
.
.
.
through the night…
.
.
my clear eyed Angel
.
.
beckoned as I reached the peak,
.
.
she sat me down… and held my hand.
.
.
together… we watched
.
.
.
.
.
our Universe unfold there…
.
.
she spoke softly in
.
.
a tranquil dialect of unconditional Love,
.
.
in the purest syllables of Truth.
.
.
the Truth
.
.
.
.
only the Innocent know.
.
.
her words dreamlike swirling in the still air…
.
.
as i became the story in her eyes,
.
.
slowly… the burden of years…
.
.
the remnants of wronged perception,
.
.
.
.
.
and the dead weight of doubt began
.
.
.
………………..lifting
.
.
.
……….floating
.
.
.
………………..rising
.
.
.
becoming one with
.
.
.
.
.
the Infinite Memory of Stars.
.
.
amidst the permanent air of the Universe.
.
.
a celestial reminder
.
.
the eternal gift of Love given being returned,
.
.
time…and time…and again..
.
.
.
.
.
as our finite days become forever…
.
.
and we become another…
.
.
like imploding Stars morph into matter….
.
.
because Love given…like a Star
.
,
never truly dies.
.
.
.
.
.
.
from NASA.gov
For reasons unknown, NGC 6357 is forming some of the most massive stars ever discovered. One such massive star, near the center of NGC 6357, is framed above carving out its own interstellar castle with its energetic light from surrounding gas and dust.
dear friends…
because i don’t post on Friday and for
the benefit of my many new friends,
i thought i would dig into the archives.
this was my fourth poem after joining
20 Lines in April, it holds a special
place in my heart because it was the
first time a poem was inspired from
hearing a song for the first time.
thank you all so much *smiles*
many thanks to Sky Vani,
for sharing this song and beautiful video.
play it as a soundtrack, the words follow the tempo.
hope you::::enjoy::::
. her last page
.
.
.
.
.
as early as her day begins, it ends
a sad memoir echoes in an empty room,
and she breezes
through her motions
…without a care in this world.
as if her love never really ended
wrote the diary,
the last page.
wide cupped latte’,
a quick croissant
and her habitual daily stroll
to every place they ever met.
she’s hoping without a prayer,
he’ll be sitting there as always
in his favorite,
corner chair.
.
.
she chooses spools of woven thread
from the French village mercerie.
…that suggestive red dress
he always loved,
and it’s noticeable tear.
as if life never did really end
wrote the diary,
her last page.
.
.
.
.
written April 21 2013
and submitted to 20 Lines A Day
prose and poetry challenge for April
. Show Me / The Pretenders
‘show me the meaning of the word
show me the meaning of the word
‘Cause I’ve heard so much about it
‘I don’t want to live without it
I don’t want to live without it’
for years my anthem, this poem was written to the tempo of this song
.
.
.
. leap
.
.
.
clutching her hot coffee with both hands
wrapped around the styrofoam take out cup
trying as hard as she could to keep herself
warm against the autumn late afternoon chill
.
she’s standing in line like they once did
when their love was still all flaming hot
giddy like little kids at Christmas time
to hear their favorite punk rock band
.
she’s mouthing sad memories to no one
and when exactly did it all slow fade away?
the steam rising up through her hair
and that anger wailing in her belly
.
because she wants no more
.
of those rerun tv dinners
of his always sleepy couch
of those damn ‘I don’t knows’
of another weekend just wasted
.
because she’s so done with
.
trying to make him
remember why he loved her
trying so hard to make him
remember why her body was only his
.
a gentle hand cupped her sleeveless shoulder
and it shook her a little, so inviting and warm
yeah, those bright blue eyes totally understood
‘hey c’mon hun, let’s move up just a little bit’
.
she slithered through the crowd to reach the stage
it was always their favorite spot, when they first met
but these days the raging warmth of crushing bodies
writhing in unison…driving bass beat her steady lover
.
and now those bright blue eyes right next to hers
straining to figure out those wicked guitar riffs
her smallish fingers stretching, nearly make that leap
until now, an elusive chord just beyond her guitar’s reach
.
when that last song finally ended and every light gone dim
the sold out standing room only crowd erupted, hands raised
and in that hopeful darkness their hands met, fingers entwirled
adding their pleas to the encore chorus, ‘More….more….more….’
after so many starts and stops
an almost lifetime of yearning
but for some reason knowing
it shouldn’t all end like this
i should have…
i had no right to…
finding this wounded heart
forgetting how to beat
finding these shallow lungs
forgetting how to breath
and so close to walking alone
forever with my restless shadows
organs of life and love in dormant uncertainty
and losing all faith in their very reason to be
i should have just given up
i had no right to continue believing
.
.
have i forgotten again to tell you how it
feels finally resting safely in your arms?
have i forgotten again like i do sometimes
to thank you… what a miracle you are?
.
.
.
‘If you open your heart
You can make a new start
When your crumbling world falls apart
The miracle of love
Will take away your pain
When the miracle of love
Comes your way again’
.
Annie Lennox, David Stuart, Eurythmics
who could know then 