Tag: poetry

Knowing

On By MiCoIn faith, poetry12 Comments

Clarity obscured,

Hope turned to faith.

 

Illusions confirmed,

Truth in perceived reality shaken.

 

How can anything be real,

Now that I know.

 

The knowing cannot be deleted,

Like it or not.

 

The duality is gone.

This step forward prohibits two back.

 

I think it is a positive thing,

At least it is supposed to be.

 

But the old saying,

“Ignorance is bliss” sometimes sounds easier.

 

Not as in a way of reality or life,

But as an easier and simpler path.

 

Is the ignorant way really easier or simpler?

Or is that the illusion we are trying to overcome?

 

The illusion fosters a belief in a way that cannot continue to exist,

It is mindless and controlling.

 

The loss of illusion permits mindfulness

And an examination of emotions and thoughts.

 

Often times my mind and soul tire of the

Reasoning and examining and effort it takes to just be in this world.

 

But in the long run, and on a daily basis, I realize that

Mindfulness and deliberation are the only true way.

 

The only way that will take me

To the future and beyond.

 

A path of fulfillment and deliverance

From a world of falsehoods and delusion.

 

4/20/15

MC

Sunday Morning Bach

On By MiCoIn nature, poetry12 Comments

Sunday morning Bach

Sweet spring sunshine and cooling breezes,

White puffs of clouds drift in crystal blue skies

And birds sing in joy and welcome.

My little deck is my spot,

A haven  of sunlight and windchimes.

A space for me to be, just be and let the words flow in from

Somewhere else, through, and maybe in spite of, me.

Bach flows out through the door and into the forest.

It is a perfect fit and complements the trees and sky.

Echoes with a man’s gift of voice to joy.  The trees know

and resonate in response to this gift. I can feel them.

Geese fly overhead,

Lending their voices to the serenade.

As I sit here, tea cup in hand, sharing this pace with the cats and sunshine,

I can think of no better place to be.

The music fills my heart, the forest fills my soul

With the essence of truth, and

The sunshine fills my dreams with the promise of hope and

A sence that the world is beautifutl, as it is

Meant to be, we need only to look for and welcome in the joy

Hari Om.

Early Spring

On By MiCoIn nature, poetry10 Comments

Snow is gone but the ground

Still holds its cold.

Warmth in spots, sun showers

Sink beneath my skin warming me from the inside out.

Familiar places return from the

Snows, like crops from the field.

Plants and flower stalks rise from

The ashes of last year’s autumn,

And leaves flattened by winter’s drifts

Stir in the spring breeze and blow in gangs across the yard.

All is in motion, change is in the air

And the earth responds.

The ice comes out of the birdbath in a saucer

shaped disk, embedded with seed husks.

The spring forest greens from the ground up and red and brown catkins

decorate the maple and aspen tree tops.

Even the sound of the windchimes responds to the spring breezes.

Winter’s harsh clanging is softened to a lovely lull of melody.

Oak trees gladly relinquish last year’s leaves to

make room for new buds opening.

As if to say, “Now is the time – the moment has come, embrace the new season

of growth and life until the cycle repeats and winter’s snow returns with the

silence and stillness of ice.”

Seasons Change

On By MiCoIn nature, poetry8 Comments

The snow melts and earth softens.

Sprouts erupt and the worms awaken.

 

The green overtakes the brown

In slow stages.

 

It sneaks in at the bottom first then

In from the edges.

 

Herbs spring to life

Under cover of dead leaves.

 

Perennials all, they recognize

The season’s changes first

 

And push themselves through the snow.

First to rise, first to shine.

 

A change in seasons has begun, another winter survived

And the hope and promise of spring proves true yet again.

Poetry Man

On By MiCoIn love, poetry12 Comments

Love’s music, full of

Softness and peace.

Profound sadness of heart,

But joy in the listening.

Some sounds resonate in my heart and

Are notes to cherish and share.

Oftentimes an opening of feelings long buried.

As much in pain and sadness as in joy.

There is such a short distance between tears

Of joy and tears of pain that

They are sometimes confused,

One with the other.

Music brings out a depth of feeling, unexplainable,

Sometimes foreign, but always familiar.

To be able to make music is such a gift,

One that I surely do not possess!

But he does.  I hold his music close to my heart and feel the

Heartbeat of the music maker.

A writer and singer of soul and heart,

He speaks in sounds, notes rearranged in endless patters

With an ease that belies the complexity of the process.

Words of soul, love in notes, flowing beauty,

Softness of heart, eternity in each heartbeat.

You’re my poetry man, “you make things all-right”

Thank you

Solitary Existence (written in 2012)

On By MiCoIn faith, love, poetry6 Comments

My singular solitary existence of

Days filled with unfulfilled hopes, lost dreams.

A resignation of sorts

No expectations = no heartbreaks.

I can’t take yet another chance

No more, it’s not worth it.

Or is it?

Maybe with faith some forgotten hopes can be remembered

Maybe I can still see his face,

Feel his breath upon my neck,

Run my fingers through his

Beautiful silver hair.

The fantasy continues,

Death cannot stop this love.

Death cannot dissolve the truth,

The love, the tenderness.

Death took him from me

I cannot loosen its grip.

Death’s stronghold clouds my vision of him,

Makes it harder and harder to picture his face.

Harder and harder to hear his voice,

Feel his touch.

Death is a selfish thing,

Keeping him all to itself.

Unwilling to share

To let me see and remember.

It tries to convince me that I have lost

That he belongs to it now, but that is just another of death’s lies.

He is safe now, safe on the other side

Behind the vale, the boundary between these two worlds.

Death was only the vehicle to take him across,

It holds no power over him.

He speaks to me of our love

In my dreams.

He causes the wind to blow my hair

Across my face as if to imitate his hand.

I feel his light and strength in the darkness and

See his smile in the sunshine.

Yes, death has cheated me, has taken a part of my soul

Away and left me in sadness.

But its power is only in my letting,

My allowing, my perspective.

I can and will change that and death

Will no longer be a barrier to he and I

And someday I will take his hand once more

And together we will walk through the field,

Smell the milkweed blooms again and rest

In the tall grasses of peace and beauty

And death will have lost its final battle

And we shall be free.

My Pencil

On By MiCoIn poetry2 Comments

The smell of a pencil

Its feeling in my hand.

A reservoir of countless words,

Ideas yet to form.

Potential in wood.

Just an instrument until it is

Connected to my hand to join with

My soul,  my ideas.

The words come in from

A place I don’t know.

They float around in my head and trail down my arm

into my pencil.

I watch as the words pour out

of the point and fill the pages with my thoughts.

But are they really mine? Does my pencil know from where they come?

I don’t.

Soft Sadness

On By MiCoIn love, poetry4 Comments

The silence of midnight

The silence of wanting.

Dark time, soft

With sadness.

A scent, a look, a memory,

Almost enough.

I long for that touch

That voice, that look.

It fills the night, turns the silence of longing

Into loving and giving.

The soft sadness replaced with his touch

His hand to hold.

His kiss to make mine

A light in the darkness but

Never to keep.

No More

On By MiCoIn love, poetry1 Comment

Soul searching,

What will I find?

The truth or just

My version of it.

What do i want from him?

For him to be what I want?

How unfair, how bizarre.

A stuffed animal in the corner

Would have as much soul,

one of my making.

Knotted ropes

slug round the edges.

Tethered to trees,

Tethered to hearts.

A mix of emotions,

Strong and weak.

Inappropriate in this need,

Soul grazing.

Fueling my heart,

But with false wants.

Irrational needs,

to  much to hope for.

I want it all, now

before it is too late

Before life is over and

I have lost.

The chances are over, nothing is left

I have missed it.

I want to love.

To love and be loved now.

I have waited far to long already,

But the hope fades

The darkness wins and

I am no more.

4/15

MC

A Beautiful Truth

On By MiCoIn love, poetry4 Comments

Is he real or just a thought,

Just a beautiful thought.

A real flesh and blood man, or just my

Projection of what I have always hoped for.

Oh but real he is, my mind could not make this up.

It is beyond thought, beyond truth.

His eyes look into my soul

And carry me to places I have never been.

His kisses turn me inside out

And leave me breathless.

His hands hold my heart and

Caress my thoughts.

His sexual power is limitless,

And his lovemaking magical.

He is a man of spirit and light,

Kindness and love.

A talent and a gift with a

Soul of tenderness.

The world stands still when

We are together and time ceases to exist.

This way is my acceptance, my choice

My rules, and my sacrifice.

I can change my expectations,

But not my feelings.

There are some things that will never change,

Never cease to be a part of me, and my love for him is one of those things.

And what of that? Is it a sorry fate,

An overwhelming sadness, it could be but

It is not, instead it is a love with no bounds, no bonds, no limits, no lies, no guilt.

Just tenderness, and belief, a belief in each other and mutual respect.

I recently read a definition of the term relationship.  “A relationship is a heart searching for a home and longing looking for a place to be”.

My heart has been searching for years and has finally

found a home,

But the door is shut.

The longing can see in through the windows,

but they are all broken.

So I will accept this and will sit and hold my heart,

and cradle my longing, while waiting for time to stop again and

for his eyes to carry me to those places

where the door is always open, and the windows whole.