Is it really a new beginning?
Or just a start to another finish.
I suppose it could be a way to a means,
Or a means to an ending.
Or maybe just an ending to another new beginning…
Only time will tell.
Category: Writing
Next Life
Is is me who I grieve for.
My heart and soul wait
anticipating it all to be as I want, but
I chose you, unwisely.
Why cant you be more, be what I want?
All of you, the collective you too.
But it is only me,
smothering in want and need.
Occasionally the sun breaks through but only to be swallowed by the sea, again.
Will it rise tomorrow?
Maybe not.
It is all slipping away,
It is almost over.
Until next time,
love,
next life.
Waiting for Words
Are there any more words?
I wait, I close my eyes and don’t think.
Thinking gets in the way.
Jumbles my ideas and thoughts.
Better to just wait,
close my eyes and wait.
I’ll write what they tell me to.
But not with words,
those come out of the end of my pen
All on their own.
Once More
This well isn’t dry,
Not yet.
I feel it stirring,
Waking up.
There is a sense of fullness in my head.
My thoughts are racing, competing, but none are clear.
They are busy working things out on their own,
Hidden from me in a misty veil
Until one, that special one, breaks through
And brings with it a flood of words.
Not from me but through me from
Behind the veil.
I can’t tell the veil when to lift,
It tells me, and after it has had its way,
Has said what it needed to say,
It slips back behind my eyes, rests and is silent.
And the words sleep and are at peace until
The stirring begins again and the veil is lifted,
Once more.
Tea Mugs and Wine Glasses
Come, sit and sip with me again.
The tea will warm our hands, the wine our hearts.
Hold my hands across the table once more and
Watch and feel my eyes melt into yours.
I know your heart hears mine but you pull
Your sweater tight and muffle its cries for me.
Let it out, it only wants to share.
Don’t be afraid,
Your heart won’t leave you for me and mine
Won’t leave me for you, but
They will meet when
Our chests touch.
Their harmonic beauty will speak to us in peace and love and
Lull us into the sweetness of sleep
Among the tea mugs
And wine glasses.
10/24/15
Silent April Snow
The early spring silent snow
Fits my mood.
It is a white dusting of truth
Accentuating every little branch and twig,
Making every little lie all the more obvious.
The silence into which the April snow is falling
Seeps through my eyes and into my heart
As if to smother and quiet its
Telltale beats.
It comes as blessing and a curse by
Prolonging the inevitable with maybe that one last chance.
But I know the sun will come out and
It will all be just a memory …
Once again.
Silly Words
| I think the words are on strike, they are not working…
They have left me, again. Are they all on vacation? Or maybe just sleeping in… They hide beneath my bed and try to trip me when I get up. I hear their giggles under there But they are too fast, I can’t catch them! They refuse to come out and play but stick their little feet out from under the door Just to tease me! I caught a glimpse of them outside early this morning, Sneakily running through the garden heading for the woods… Those little rascals, I’ll have to take a walk to the brook later And round them up and put them back to work. They can’t hide from me forever, although sometimes it seems like they can… Silly words.
|
It Waits
It waits with patience hands
Outside our knowing, waiting to be let in.
Its story is always the same,
Its truth dependable but not always what we want to hear.
There is no hypocrisy, no deceit in its soul.
It is the soul that fills the void, that encompasses the eternal.
It exists in rhythms of time, tides of dependability,
Cycles of freedom and seasons of hope.
It can be ignored, but never escaped and so it waits,
In beauty and joy, in bliss and acceptance, in love and peace,
For us to wake up and realize it is but a mirror of ourselves,
The face of our existence, the light in our souls,
The essence of our being
Before we were born.
Because of Him
Gratitude for the smallest of things
Becomes gratitude for the eternal.
Because the eternal exists in even the smallest,
A baby’s laugh, a milkweed bloom, a crystal blue winter sky.
An autumn leaf, falls softly in silence,
Releasing its life with gratitude in a celebration of color.
It is the small things in my life that cover me in warmth and
Feed the fire of my gratitude with love.
I am thankful for sunrises and sunsets,
The defining moments of each day’s beginning and end.
I am grateful for my children and grandchildren –
All manifestations of God.
The life light in a newborn’s eye,
Holds the spirit of heaven and the knowledge of Krishna’s grace.
And when I am in danger of forgetting these things, I sit and go deep inside myself,
Inside to that point where I am connected directly to him and he brings me back to grace.
It is my gratefulness that fuels my passions for the loves in my life, from acorns to hummingbirds
Grasshoppers to lightning storms,
Soft kisses at midnight,
And sweet love in the morning.
I am grateful to exist in a flood of grace and love.
Grace that is endless and effortless, and love that is all encompassing.
My heart is full and soft and my smiles are because of him.
Hari Om
Quiet Gentleness
There is a smoothness to the
Texture of ordinary days.
Ease and effort are the same,
Quiet gentleness and holy light.
Each object flowing effortlessly
Into every other object yet each
Remaining what they are .
“Water takes the shape of the vessel that contains it,
Yet has no shape of its own” (Mooji)
What is my place in this quiet?
I am the water outside of the vessel,
The space the wind occupies between the trees,
The pause between the breaths.
I observe he smoothness of ordinary days and
feel the light that exists at the center of the flower.
And know that he and I have become one.
(Poem #3 of the April Poetry Month’s 30 poems in 30 day challenge)
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