Call to my heart this gentle joy,
this speech that claims my sigh,
and takes me off to dreaming,
with a smile upon my lips,
as I think of words spoken,
ever so gently,
into my needy ear,
just when they were needed,
I am but subtle whispers,
as they echo, oh they echo,
ever so wonderous is the wording,
that makes my worry fade,
and my heart rejoice,
his voice, his voice,
my lovers gentle voice.
Come time, dry the tears
that currently vex my spirit,
bring my heart end of aching
For I will not be forsaking
that which brings me joyful.
I am ever mindful of the loss
as my heart begs his contentment.
Time, return lost faith to his soul
where it is sorely missing,
and most conspicuously blank
waiting for his new page
of wording to be written.
Time, Let him see his potential
for he is writing pages
that have not the true reflection
of his inner worth or future dwelling.
This value I am endless telling
the world just how he loves me
with something that makes a miracle,
seem smaller than a needle,
and harder to come by haystack.
Time, hear my declaration,
Oh how his heart shines within his laughing!
his eye so clever giving.
his endless steps beside me,
that shows the way, while greiving
the loss of something within him.
He strives but sees not the value
of each stumbling forward motion.
Time, dry these cuts of worry
that coat my heart with patches
as I watch with wringing fingers
his every shadowed calling
my love cries with his falling
as I walk in silent witness
and wait for him to see
the wonder in his name.
He feels it low
and withdraws his smile,
sunshine lost in shadow.
His heart beats dark
but hides a spark.
My dreams are lost within him.
He feels it low
and withdraws his laugh.
Joy covered by worry.
A restless heart
My spirit follows behind him.
I wait and know
though he is low
that no other satisfy me.
My heart must wait
by the garden gate
for his blooming rose to find me.
the deathly hallows,
the leafy chin chin,
the great purple way,
the hats that do no good,
the quirky works,
the leg lamps of style,
the beginning of a story,
that began with you and me..
the lost journey,
the high 5,
the pizza and the puzzle,
the monopoly of banter,
the “hide” and seek of walking,
the meeting of two eyes,
that told us we were partners.
not to forget.
I have been writing in this blog for a full year now. WOW.
that quick fixes tend to break,
The coffee table left today,
wobbled his way out the door ,
snorting with distain,
at the house that housed nothing of value,
and wondered at it’s worth.
The rocking chair sat silently,
pondering the steady creak,
of times endless reminder,
that sometimes it is far better,
to take the time..though hard to wait,
for something more enduring,
less inclined to collapse,
under the weight,
of something not sturdily built,
or time tested.
We all learn lessons in furniture,
Pieces that strike a fine pose,
to the eye,
but are nothing more,
under the surface,
than a bit of slapped on paint.
Let the buyer beware.
Furniture time has tested
has a shine, a glow, a patina,
that comes from careful tending,
gentle loving, patient waiting,
Hands that have crafted
something built for loving, living
sustaining, are hands that have held wonder,
known love, understood the deepness of times
like a whisper upon skin
it graces the one who embraces.
OK, I admit it..
I drew hearts around your name.
Sighed like a schoolgirl over a movie star
created fantasies fantastic..and slightly outlandish
in their reality.
I admit it…I got dramatic
made you into a knight in shining armor
made you the Romeo, to my pretend Juliet,
though, neither of us fit that part
(suicide is for quitters).
I admit I acted the romantic idiot
who saw you through rose colored lenses
and saw you as something bigger than life
something bright and slightly unbelievable.
I admit it.
When I met you
I was waiting for the heavens to open up
and sing me songs of sweet surrender..
Instead I got you.
You who has a soul that battles daily
to remember what he wakes for.
You who has no idea how he gets through each new challenge
Who feels he is not a knight, but a simple man,
easily forgotten in a crowd.
You who knows not what the future holds,
and what his heart exists for
from beat to beat.
You who makes me laugh,
chases my blues eastward, westward
anywhere but inward.
You who makes me smile,
discovering inside me something new
and tenderly understood.
You who makes me remember
all the ways I am strong and loved.
You are not what I imagined
you are instead just what I need.
Childhood friend who has seen my tears,
be here with me now,
your smile a soothing echo,
of who this innocent heart once was,
and things she once believed in.
Remind me friend, when I am weary,
my heart not as refreshingly vulnerable,
locked doors and ripped out pages,
my heart no longer quite as open…
Help me force the door,
don’t let me slam it closed.
My childhood friend,
who sees me, knows my hidden heart,
my soft places, my tender spots,
those underbellies that make me Achilles,
places held together with varying lengths of tape.
Do not let me withdraw, into these dark chambers,
that promise peace, but deliver loneliness,
for the doubts to devour,
it is my soul they batter about,
and you, who is so loving,
are what makes me remember,
who I am, who I was..who I want to be
childhood friend remind me
Alfie be my light.
Sister moon stands frozen.
She has seen much more than time can erase
her heart broken, mended, broken,
like a cliff face endlessly losing purchase into the sea.
She silently watches the world turn,
she has lived to long to need words,
blunt, unworthy, undefinable,
some emotions have no descriptor,
and some things are better left unsaid.
Heartbreak leaves a formless scar.
Love leaves a chained legacy.
Sister moon remembers
Moments that cannot be called joyful,
but also cannot be called pain.
Mingling together they call themselves life,
more true than fairytale stories.
Reality is a blurred line, smudged focus, shade of grey.
She has seen the cool of betrayal,
and the saving grace of love committed.
No man is an island,
even within himself.
Sister moon, lost in dreaming
your brow has been smoothed by time
teaching lessons in acceptance,
and gratitude, some things are blessings
when they take nothing, ask nothing,
content to be simply put, and simply done.
Sister moon remembers.
placing cold kisses on heated cheeks
making calm the heart that beats fiercely
with trembling emotion, strongly held in check.
telling worlds with my tears
melding with your drip
that lines my heart with memory
faces left behind.
no greater wish to be granted
only simple hoping here
despite sadness and fear
a gentle rain comes calling
and asks me how I am feeling.
you confuse me,
with your hand on my face
telling me I am beautiful
making me feel seen
while subtly holding back
for reasons I ponder daily
and attempt to accept as normal.
you confuse me,
hand in mine
that my hand feels right in yours
afraid constantly, in my head,
that my love will capture
instead of free you.
you confuse me,
with these looks that tell me love is
what your heart is falling into
while your silence makes me ponder
the weight of my reply
each thought like glass to walk
afraid I will shatter greatly.
you confuse me,
with promise in my ear
but doubt in my worry
I am ever tender hooks
never sure if I belong
or if I am just foolish dreaming.
turn and study,
think and ponder,
beat him to the solving,
as time whisks away the hour,
laughing as his clever,
makes way with my time,
and leaves me with leftover pieces,
I know just where to place.
Take these dreams and make them pink,
with hopful breath held in,
wanting all that I have glimpsed,
to become an overwhelming reality,
Paint me blue,
cause I am missing you.
The sky above,
knows your name,
and clouds will come to linger,
with soft wet gazing,
upon your sigh,
silver, written across my skin.
Paint me a star,
so I know where you are,
and can keep wishing on you,
so much more reliable,
and more soothing,
than violets purple grin.
Cheery yellow is my spelling,
with red passion blazing forward,
ever white-faced at my daring,
as I draw a green grass thought of morning,
when once more your voice coats me,
in colors that bring me joy.
Half my heart lives elsewhere,
sits quiet there within,
making silly faces,
to cause your soul to smile.
I like it there just fine,
cause it’s a sly reminder,
every moment that you feel alone,
there is an extra pat felt beating,
just there beneath your palm.
No, Claim not the angry moon,
with her passionate cheeks in bloom.
Do not claim the crashing tide,
that becons watchers come.
Do not claim the wind that lashes,
that makes that which is bound undone.
Do not claim that fierce and loveless motion,
for you are a different sort,
Seek instead to a lullaby,
sung softly by someone loving
Claim forth that angels grace,
ever affectionate and kind.
Claim ever the sweet serenity of soft glances,
and gentle touch sublime.
Far better to seek to gentleness.
Far more in touch with light,
that flows from you,
When light falls from higher places,
and brings my mind to dawn,
I look and see the pieces,
that sunbeams have lovingly drawn.
Like pulling up a curtain,
and letting joy inside,
I see the hidden traces,
of what does not need to hide.
Let light become my memory,
let quiet night recede,
let me know the warmth of endless touch,
let it fullfill my every need.
Let the light fall,
let the day call,
let what will be complete itself,
let remembrance occur to all.
How does this heart hold loving
that blends my colors
until they no longer bleed
but mesh, ever so cleverly
into a single combined entity
that takes on a life
of it’s own?
How does this heart hold tenderness
that soothes my brain with gentle waves
and serenity sublime
like classical music played gently
in the background of my thoughts?
How does this heart hold commitment
that drives my journey
fuels my fate
creates my dreams and ignites them
into flames of passions purpose
unblinking in their contemplation
of something I know can be accomplished?
In the lift of his eyes
and the touch of his hand
something sings a song
and hums my heart to beauty
makes me hopeful
and often insecure.
Sadness is grey,
it seeps along the soul,
and encircles the heart,
with dread and bitter knowledge.
Sometimes dreaming is painful,
when the hope sighs,
and the spirit dies,
no longer quite so certain,
that fairy tales come true.
What am I but a single hand,
waving in the dark,
asking for more than I deserve,
a foolish dreamer who knows not,
when she should stop dreaming,
and listen to the truth.
grow up little girl
Look into the sky,
let the sun shine upon weary face,
let the wind whip your hair,
and caress your throat,
Let the night enfold you in it’s silence,
draw deeply from the sounds of nature,
let the rhythm of the black embrace you,
give you reason to stand a statue,
a moment, contemplating something still,
and graced with beauty.
Walk with a sway, like dancing,
let movement be a song,
tell a story with your forward motion,
let time pass like a weathered leaf,
with joy let your heart be lighter.