Everlasting

Don’t tell me that you don’t understand,
how could you be ignorant after all these years?

Don’t tell me that there is no plan,
I have fought, I have lost,I have groped for solutions in the dark.

I need faith, I need love, I can only do so much.
There is hope, there’s a choice there are many roads to take.
Give me breath, give me time.

I need to live, soar.

I need to find what makes me, scream and laugh,
dream and cry.

There is joy and pain, faith and despair here,
no more it is all circling endlessly down,
down into the depths of my being.

I will walk when the flame is gone.



*Photo Credit: buddymaxx50 http://www.flickr.com/photos/buddymaxx50/311564861/

(Another post, for which I have poured out emotion, but which may or may not reflect what I am currently feeling. Which is, alright, Cest' La Vie)

Savage Vows

Leaping flames, contained by a rim of stone.

Deep peace, as I wait, the rough bark against my back.

You will find me, ancient attraction.

Brush against my hand, soft petals, tall grasses.

Lay beside me, sweet scented serenity.

Burn through me and in me, restore my faith in living.

I will be baptized, with the dawning of the radiant sun.





*******************************

I am back, refreshed (for the moment), filled with deep mountain peace.

I didn't write much up in the mountains, I just wandered and absorbed, my thoughts strangely silent.

I sat down, just 3 hours ago though (to do something else) and a whole bunch of poetry came pouring out.

So here is one piece.

A Wrinkle in Time

I will be away this week end at a family reunion, hopefully relaxing and writing. Until then enjoy a few quotes out of the book "A Wrinkle in Time" by Madeleine L'engle

"Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connait point. French. Pascal. The heart has its reasons, wherof reason knows nothing."

"Ab honesto virum bonum nihil deterret. Seneca. Nothing deters a good man from doing what is honorable."

"Justitiae soror fides. Latin again, of course. Faith is the sister of justice."

"Euripedes. Nothing is hopeless; we must hope for everything."

"Qui plus sait, plus se tait. French, you know. The more a man knows, the less he talks."

"Vitam impendere vero. To stake one's life for the truth."

and last but not least this quote out of the bible (as quoted by "Mrs. Who" in the book)

"Sing unto the Lord a new song, and his praise from the end of the earth, ye that go down to the sea, and all that is therein; the isles, and the inhabitants thereof. Let the wilderness and the cities thereof lift their voice; let the inhabitants of the rock sing, let them shout from the top of the mountains. Let them give glory unto the lord."

Writing Bits

It is like a breezy illusion, this universe. One minute someone can be standing, right there, and the next minute they are not. Is there some kind of imprint that is left behind? The spot that I am standing at, right now, could have easily been tread by a Native American, a Cowboy, a Pioneer, or in fact any number of people, or even an animal, or dinosaur for that matter!!

Rooms, they are the containers of your soul. The character of a room changes with each occupant.

The room that she had been reclining in had been hung with various pieces of artwork, gathered from yard sales and thrift shops. She had placed them over the bare white walls, to cheer her up a bit.

Her most recent find a beautiful Alaskan flower, enlarged to show every magnificent detail. The radiant yellow and vibrant greens shone out, begging the viewer to escape into the picture frame.

She had taken a lot of thought for her surroundings, yet at the moment she scarcely noticed them. All she could think about were empty spaces.

There in the hallway, she stared at the corner of the door frame to the next room. He had proposed, right there! "Did he really stand there?" she thought "it is hard to conceive of it now."

She sighed and closed the book that she had been scanning, hoping that some of the words would reach her grief filled mind. "Was he serious! I can't really think that he was." She shuddered, from a bit of a breeze that had come in from the wintry window.

"Why would he want me? This complicated life? What did he really want, if not me?" She clenched her teeth, she knew, if he wasn't sincere then he had been talking from some mad crazed center of his brain that only wanted one thing. "You ruined me!! I cannot spend one day without thinking about you!!"

She tore herself away from her endless reflections and out she went to the hallway, briefly touching the wall as she passed, her memories a ghost that followed her. "Marry me, leave him and marry me!!" The whispered echo of his words drifted through her mind, too late, the speaker was gone.

She chuckled with bitter remorse that her path had been so hard, wasn't doing the "right thing" in life supposed to lead to some kind of reward, peace of mind, the irony stung.

(Stung again people... I started writing this last winter, I stumbled across this today. Don't feel too much in the mood to write poetry, so I thought I would put this bit up, before I lose it again.)

Senseless

Once I felt inspired, by the sound of voices harmonizing together up on a stage, by the majesty of the mountains, the rushing of the waves.

I have seen concentric patterns in the feathers of birds, and infinite spirals on the shells of snails.

I have been enraptured by the crescendo of timpani drums, carried away as I lay.

Once I felt alive, my senses awakened by awareness of you, as our lips touched and lingered.

Now as I sit here alone, contemplating what should be, what I should do.

I find no inspiration, no blips of interest on the screen, just remembrances of you.

Rather that I was walking through the cool tall grasses in the spring, wild and free, than sitting here remembering what used to be.

Electronic Colosseum

Listen to the pulse of the world, listen.

We collectively bow before idols, or recline, however the case may be.

Obfuscating our thoughts with the drone of the gods, drone on gods, drone on.

For we have forgotten what used to be,

Men standing firm, feet planted in the earth, their muscles rippling with exertion.

Women, capable women, given to thought and reflection, peaceable ways.

Builders of society, they knew God,

out in the elements, they knew who they were.

Dignity, goodness, uprightness, upheld.

What stands for societies gods now?

The obliteration of others, laugh at the idiots.

The degradation of all, for nothing is sacred.

How quickly do we fall?

Crowds gather, vast crowds

climb high to your seat,

sweat trickles down your face in the heat.

Collective excitement as the gates are lifted,

a gasp as the lion is released.

Then the slave standing,

ebony shining in the sun.

A battle to the death,

and who questions why this is?

Man against beast, man against man

Fascination

Battles are still fought before masses

battles for dignity, battles for sanity.

How entertaining, to see people fail.

Are we all mad?

The Romans are still alive...

Running

Running, running, down the sidewalk, by the river which is rushing.

Rushing over stone and cascading over falls.

Running in a careening, loose sort of way feet falling over feet bringing emotions to the surface, joy and sadness mixed together.

Limping, limping down the sidewalk unsure of where to go, with the lights of the street sitting dimly in their orbs, no inspiration. Just turn around and make it work.

Balancing on the railroad tracks, listening for the train, the echos sounding in the distance as though trapped by the trees and the fields which hold many lost sounds.

Running away, being chased by the sadness, the anger, questioning why? What now? What should I do?

Running in the sand dunes, each footfall causing the sand to cascade down with gravitational attraction to the earth. Each footfall causing your muscles to ache with the effort until you reach the top where you collapse panting for breath.

Walking, carrying the weight of your burdens on your shoulders, shrugging to loose them, shrugging with self doubt, you look only briefly at a strangers face and paste on a smile that you are sure they know to be fake.

Carrying your little one home from the store, wondering how they did it in days of old, how their arms held out as they were driven, driven from their homes out into the snow where there footprints were seen as bloody shadows of their beaten owners.

Watching as the powerlines glide over the night sky, between the stars out in the open field as you drive trying to find that lost place where no one will hear as you ask the questions that no one has answers to, no one but God.

Then you run, run by the lake as your emotions run out and you gaze out at the moon on the water, highlighting the ripples as the wind blows.

Missing Angel

Strange, as the hour passes,

only silence awaits.

Gone

Crimson tears fall,

the hope drains away.

Hearts break,

ask not why.

The Robin cannot explain,

empty eggs.

Bereft

Strange, black ink spreads,

across empty pages.

A book which cannot be filled,

though ink drips from my pen.

Futile

Hold in your arms,

the soft sighs and joy.

When a new dawn breaks,

my aching arms will be soothed, by a tender head.

Hope

Another bit of Poetry

Here is another lovely piece from my book of poetry...

NEVER GIVE UP

Never give up! There's a rainbow bending
Over the path so dark and steep,
And all of the rain that God is sending
Is for harvests of love you shall some day
reap.

Never give up! There's a blessing hidden
Deep in the heart of every woe-
Some happy day it will rise unbidden
As crocus blooms after winter snow.

Never give up! There's a bright star shining
Somewhere in the depths of the darkest night
And the darkest clouds show their silver
lining
When hope returns with the morning
light.

-Vincent Godfrey Burns

Poetry Anthologies

I have decided to share a bit of poetry from my Grandmothers basement. Books of poetry compiled into lovely anthologies.

The First Poem, This is Life is a lovely little piece, beautifully strung words.

This is Life

I saw the glory of the sunrise,
Breathed the invigorating air,
And my soul rose to the very skies
When I sallied forth, proud to dare.
That was the morning.

The awful heat of the day came down;
I stooped, and my brow was wet with sweat,
And when I saw Misfortune frown
I cried, "I am not conquered yet!"
That was noonday.

The softer shades of twilight fell
And released my grip in the strife.
I am contented now to dwell
Where understanding sweetens life.
This is eventide.

~Ken Smith