Is reflection the conveyor
of a message thinly sent
to serve as object’s layer
in an undersized percent
Or,
is reflection the conveyor
of a purposeful intent
to show the viewing player
the beauty of accent?
via Conveyor
Reflection
Reply
Tag Archives: poets
What Good Is a Window?
What good is a window
if there’s nothing to see
no season of fall
no drifting of leaves
What good is a window
if there’s only a wall.
What good is a window
if it’s sealed on all sides
if it always stays closed
by your heart or your pride
What good is a window
If you’re underexposed.
What good is a window
if it’s locked tight, secured
or covered with drapes
and your view is obscured
What good is a window
If there is no escape
What good is a window
if it’s not open wide
to smile at skies blue
to let fear subside
So,
What good is a window?
It let’s you climb through
(photo taken when I visited beautiful Tuscany)
Top Photo credit
Do Not Weep for Me
Do not weep for me
for I have experienced a lifetime of joy
the sounds of birthing
the squeals of jubilant voices.
Do not weep for me
for I have felt the vibrations of storms
and weathered through them with dignity.
I have witnessed the changing of seasons
and watched the children have children.
I have seen the fruits gathered and shared by many hands.
I have smelled the soups of wellness upon a cookstove,
freshly cut grass at my entrance,
and the rain both distant and near.
I have experienced these things and more.
Do not weep for me.
Weep for the forlorn.
via Forlorn
I Will Not Say
When I lay dying upon my bed
when only past then lays ahead
With only farewell’s left to bid
I will not say, “I almost did.”
When sheets are warm but cold within
reflecting back on what has been
all the times of profound gladness
I will not say, “I almost had this.”
The ripples of my life to fade
I’ll leave a message well conveyed
as light turns dark from setting sun
I will not say, “I almost won.”
photo credit
via Almost
Who Knows the Truth, I Ask You
The vastness of the wheat in field
rich soil lays beneath?
No, Layer upon layers splay
To cover up the heath.
Who knows the truth I ask of you
Profound, I tell you this!
Uncovered, unexpected,
Lies a masquerade of bliss.
-CDW
(if these words sound familiar it’s because I posted it a while back and not because it’s a famous poem 🙂 )
photo credit
via Bliss
Waiting for Our Hearts to Mend
I will gorge myself with feathers
to be light upon my feet
as I traipse across the foothills
shaking every paw I meet
I will stroke the furs with touches
soft and kind will be my voice
as I offer safety, comfort
and a reason to rejoice
But one specific fellow waits
to be uncaged, set free
my precious friend, I’ll be there soon
both rescued, you and me.
For my sweet Cole – a mini-Aussie current with his vaccines – who was sent to quarantine for nipping the Fed-Ex man on our property.
via Gorge
Sisters of Mercy
Oh the sisters of mercy,
they are not departed or gone.
They were waiting for me
when I thought that I just can’t go on.
And they brought me their comfort
and later they brought me this song.
Oh I hope you run into them,
you who’ve been travelling so long.
Yes you who must leave everything
that you cannot control.
It begins with your family,
but soon it comes around to your soul.
Well I’ve been where you’re hanging,
I think I can see how you’re pinned:
When you’re not feeling holy,
your loneliness says that you’ve sinned.
Well they lay down beside me,
I made my confession to them.
They touched both my eyes
and I touched the dew on their hem.
If your life is a leaf
that the seasons tear off and condemn
They will bind you with love
that is graceful and green as a stem.
When I left they were sleeping,
I hope you run into them soon.
Don’t turn on the lights,
you can read their address by the moon.
And you won’t make me jealous
if I hear that they sweetened your night:
We weren’t lovers like that
and besides it would still be all right,
We weren’t lovers like that
and besides it would still be all right.
–beautifully written by Leonard Cohen
via Mercy
Just Gimme Some Truth
The plainest coat
of thinnest twine
divinest in
these troubled times.
The finest suit
on vainest man
with meanest tone
once business man.
The sanest folk
with honest speech
truthful, earnest
are best to teach
via Nest
Tethering to Glory
In the arms of a rope:
I”d tether to the glory
of lily fields and daffodils
on wings of whip-poor-wills in flight
toward the moon’s calm light
I’d gather all the wisdom known
with loosened knots, embrace the thoughts
allowing plots of greater good
to be my livelihood
You, untangled chord of strength
the sturdy twine so blessed mine
a lifeline, filled with hope
this dreamer’s periscope
Photo credit and: “The metaphysicians, theologists and even the modern psycho-analysts, have been long using it – the imagery of swing, for defining the wanderings of self and a vacillating, wavering or indecisive mind, and aestheticians, poets and painters …”
To Ask for Help
The inside of your mind is torn
you ache for someone’s guidance
yet thrusted hand keeps them away
retained, a thunderous silence
Problems stem from holding back
and keeping troubles bound
The tigers growl, the gators snap
the lions, they surround
Isn’t is a comfort, though
to feel a warming hand
rest softly on your shoulder, stilled,
a yearn without demand?
To ask for help, there’s nothing wrong
seek others for direction
in grief or pain or lover’s quarrel
or self-imposed rejection
Why hold fast those troubled woes?
Let others help unleash
the honks of monsters, a demons fear,
a sorrow, then released
photo credit
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 
