Torn Between Two Lovers

 

"Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart." ~Victor Hugo



It's the last big freeze of the season I suppose....and then it will move toward spring.  I do love the spring, but it is the fall that truly holds my heart.





My heart is torn between two lovers
the golden autumn and the budding spring

my eyes are slaves to each one's beauty
yet their vision of glory makes me a king

I follow where they lead me
down the paths of season's steady flow

as I long to capture them both completely
but like a fickle girl they always let me go

no heart can truly serve two masters
nor hold more than one lover within it's grasp

so I shall be an ever restless admirer
of two loves whose true promise I cannot have.


To Be Filled

Courtesy Google Images

 

 

Linking with the wonderful folks at Poetry Jam

 

 

 Isn't that what we all seek?

Fulfillment?

We stand here

in this life

like empty bottles on a shelf

hoping for something good

something beautiful

or of substance

a morsel of nourishment

to fill the empty places

that only something

bigger can provide

but we must be

willing to take a step out

from where we stand

and be open

to the blessings given

if we are

  truly to be filled.

 

 

The Provisions of Scholars and Fools

 

"To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else."

  ~Emily Dickinson

 

 

 

Life provides the utter need to struggle
 to sustain its own truest breath

Like a fish squirms out of water
 and a bird works hard to build its secure nest

We are granted its gracious offering
 at the moment of our own birth

And the deep urge to preserve the gift
 is expensive but still it gains more worth

A wise man learns to make it prosper
 fishing for truth that helps him fully thrive

While the fool struggles with the burden
 of unlearned lessons upon his empty line

This world is a deep ocean
 full of opportunities to catch hold of and to keep

It’s a fish that feeds the plenty,
 yet our hands hold the power to use it or set it free.

 

 

 

Maniac With a Pen and Paper...

writ*r/ 'raiter/

-noun

1. a peculiar organism capable of transforming caffeine into books. 



Wild Goose Chase

Google Images

 

 

"The gull sees the farthest who flies highest."

~Richard Bach, Jonathon Livingston Seagull

 

 

My post for the prompt is on my other blog click here to view it.  I was not able to add it on Mr Linky so thought I would just link it the long way.  When I found a quote to add here for the post I realized that our minds are such amazing storage closets.  I read the book Jonathon Livingston Seagull when I was around 10 or 11 years old, and I wrote the poem I posted in my 30's.  I realized that the main line I have in the poem is truly this quote from the book up above.  I had no idea when I wrote it, I was copying it, but had no intentions to be doing so.  I guess my mind tucked that line away...and it came back out in my writing.  My apologies Mr Bach, but please consider it a compliment that your amazing lines have lingered patiently within my mind and heart.

Life Is God's Artistic Masterpiece

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.

~Stanley Horowitz

Don't Be a "Scaredy Cat"

Courtesy Google Images 

 

 

Hope is much like a cat in the Dark — you only know it's there by the reflection of its eyes — which means there is Light nearby. ~Terri Guillemets




Wishing everyone in "blog-land" a wonderful Halloween.  May you eat too much candy and hear the giggling of children all night.

The Autumn Gateway Has Opened

 

Autumn bowed to place a beautiful crown on the Queen of Morning,

 and her velvet robes sway merrily in the chilly breeze.

 ~Terri Guillemets

 

 

 

I welcome autumn with open arms once more!

Feast of the Moon

 

 

 

 

"As far as the Moon is concerned, he is always full." ~Terri Guillemets

Pickles and Peace on the Side

 

The Mag #185

 "Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed.  Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace and gratitude."

  ~Denis Waitley

 

I am life partake of me

I am at your service

I am your maitre-de

I am the menu

within your hands

the choice is yours

what will you have?

Today's special is

happiness on rye

with pickles and peace
on the side

or would you rather

have discontent

with a cup of soup?

It's time to order

it's up to you?

The Force of Feathers and Chains

artwork by Jeanie Tomanek

 

The Mag #184

 

 

"God loved the birds and invented trees. Man loved the birds and invented cages."

  ~Jacques Deval

 

 

 

There is a force that feathers know

 that ride together upon a wing in flight

 

and so to do links of a rusty chain
that hold down and lock up tight.

 

There is a might that bricks know

when holding up a sturdy wall

 

and so does the metal ball and crane

that can make the building fall.

 

Sometimes the chains that bind us

are bound by our own hands

and in turn the liberty we so long for
becomes too heavy for us to withstand.

The soul possesses all the muscles
to carry a thousand pounds of woe

yet it also holds the skill and power
to courageously let it go.




Many years ago when I was going through the separation and divorce from my first husband, I left the home I had known for eight years and took off with a packed up car and a discouraged teenager heading to the home of a dear friend I had gone to church with years before.  We stayed under her comforting wing of hospitality and encouragement for about 6 months.  It was a difficult time of change for both me and my son.
  During that time there was a simple story her son shared one day that has always stuck with me.  It holds a profound truth in its simplicity and has crossed my mind many times when I have felt stuck in a situation.  He had a dog that he loved very much that he kept mostly in the back yard.  Whenever he would wash his car, he would bring her out in the front yard and tie her chain to a tree while he scrubbed down his ride.  Eventually, the dog got so used to the routine, that she would simply sit by the tree knowing she was chained to it, and watch him work on the car.  He admitted that as time went by he got complacent and would bring her out front on the chain, but instead of tying her up he would simply place her by the tree with the chain and go about his business.  The dog was so used to being chained to the tree, that she did not exert any force or effort to try to break away to even realize that she was no longer bound with the chain.
  I cannot tell you how many times I have thought about that story and realized how relevant it is to certain situations people face in their lives.  We get so accustomed to the obstacles that we have holding us back, that we settle like roots of a tree and stagnate where we stand.  Assuming there is no way out or means to make a change.  Then like bad fruit we become bitter and angry with the yoke we must bear, never taking the time to comprehend the fact that it is only us that can make a true difference.  Only we can make the choice to walk away, change the circumstances, or simply lay down the burden.



To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you. ~Lewis B. Smedes

 

 

 

 

 

 



The Wings of Uncertainty

"Madness is the result not of uncertainty but of certainty."

~Frederich Nietzsche

Sometimes having some semblance of control of what happens in our lives is like a loosed canary from an open cage, we have it for a moment and once it escapes our hold, it could again light upon our finger or cross our path eventually, but we must face the fact that like a free bird we might never truly capture it within our grasp once more.

Directions Not Included

photo by Steven Kelly

 

The Mag #183

 

 

"Men, like nails, lose their usefulness when they lose direction and begin to bend."

  ~Walter Savage Landor

 

Sometimes I am rough like an old highway that is in desperate need of repair

 

and I am stagnant like a puddle where there is no light to bring a glare.

 

At times I am tattered like a worn hem on a dress no one will sew

 

and I am meager like a garden where a careless gardener never goes.

 

At times I am lost like a sparrow that has never built it's nest

 

and I am lonely like a boring hostess that will never have a guest.

 

Sometimes I am empty like a pew where the minister shall not preach

 

and full of dust like antique furniture hidden beneath white sheets.

 

At times my focus is for naught like an unused telescope on a starlit night

 

and I am vacant like a building that it too damaged for someone to buy.

 

 In this life there are no road signs to truly guide the way ahead

 

and purpose can get lost if we drive like our foot is made of led.

 

So slow down and pay attention don't miss the turn you were meant to make

 

for no one else can do it for you, it's a maneuver that only you can make.

 

 

A Hunger That Fills Buckets

photo by Elena Kalis

 

The Mag #182

 

 

The ocean of the body crashes against the ocean of the heart. Between them is a barrier they cannot cross. ~Rumi

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lost is the place my heart wanders

nowhere that has an uttered name

it's a choir that sings of loneliness

a hunger that fills buckets like rain

 

it's point of exact location

cannot be found

on any printed map

it's a grain of sand to an ocean

a skyscraper laying on its back

 

 it's penciled in directions

to a permanent destination

that does not yet exist

it's a doorbell to a deaf man

a voice that shall forever have no lips

 

the true logic of the

code and boundaries

is teardrops tied to a locked up gate

it's a room that has no walls

a fork that will never have a plate

 

a broken heart is a manic hunter

searching for candles inside the dark

 it's a cure that has no potion

a wound that will never leave a mark

 

for love is a mighty fortress

 that no human strength can truly lift

it's a present we can only open

if we are willing to give back the gift

 

the heart's logical mathematics

is a lesson no one can truly teach

it's a rainbow to a blind man

a sermon no evangelist can preach

 

no sense can be reasoned out

of the obscurities of the human heart

it's lucidity to an utter madman

it feeds diamonds to a shark

 

for the ways of love and loss

are like a river and cast off stones

they wander drifting like a forlorn sailor

until they finally find a home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reaching for Wisdom with Foolish Hands

Drawing Hands, 1948 by M.C. Escher

 

 

The Mag # 180

 

 

 

"Men are made stronger on realization that the helping hand they need is at the end of their own arm." ~Sidney J. Phillips

 

 

 

I define my own ways at the sketching of my own hand,
drawing my own lines of reason like heritage defines a man.
The view that lies before me is a photo that only I can snap.
I can choose to capture the future or get tangled in the past.
All the expectations I hope to have unfold within my own arm's reach,
are not given by this world but earned painstakingly by only me.
For life is a pilgrimage of perspectives that I alone can observe and utilize
no other soul can grant it, my own hands must reach out and truly try.