Lost is a Lonely Place on a Busy Street

 Photography by Artist, Jasper James

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #168

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For a while I climbed the ladder,
not realizing I’d placed it
against the wrong house. The window
I tried to look into was a mirror.
I fell backward into the world.

-Stephen Dunn

 

I lost you before you were truly gone

Like money at the races or bullets from a fool’s gun

Some hurts are hard to recover from

 and some places just cannot be left behind

a lost little girl

that had never left home

still stands at the curb of a busy street

and hesitates to go

speaking up and walking away are harder than they look

no one ever explained that to me

I just learned it as I went

You see,  silence preaches louder than you think

Skinned up knees leave a more enduring mark

Than road signs warning, slippery when wet

Those scars join us in the journey

We carry them along

Like children too tired to walk any further

That is how we learn strength is many things

More than lifting steal and running far

Yes, I lost you before you were truly gone

Like whiskey from a cracked bottle

That always leaves a mess behind

It took me years to see how lost that truly left me

Yet to find our true direction

We must first realize we are lost.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First Time In the Pool, 1975

 

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse#166

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Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is. ~German proverb

 

When I was a child I did not go into the deep end  

swimming is hard to learn when you never leave dry land

I lingered at the shallow side

 needing to have my feet touch the bottom of the pool

the only thing I truly learned that day

was to hold on to the side tight

you see my fear of the loss of control gripped me even tighter

fear is a harsh teacher

it can bruise and it can maim  

providing a true regret

that sticks with you like a heavy meal on a hot day

the kind that leaves you thirsty and parched

yet it is there that courage can immerge

in the longing to quench the deepest of thirsts

when hands reach out

you learn to let go of the sides

and venture deeper in

for that is the only way to learn

and get where you surely need to be.

The Gate Keeper

 

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #160.  Hosted this week by my fabulously talented poet friend Shay!   Come join us!

"To dare is to lose one's footing.  To not dare is to lose oneself."   ~ Soren Kierkegaard

In the marvel of our youth we eagerly open every gate

yearning to reach and feel everything under the sun

like blind hands

that do not know what lies ahead

but as the quilted blanket always dries on the line

under the mid-day sun

colors fade

edges tatter and tear with time

caution takes hold

like a tight winter coat

we long for shelter

learning to lock doors with prudent hands

we view the horizon from closed windows

knowing all too well 

what lies ahead.

Note to self & the world:

Leave the gate unlocked with open hands and an open mind.

The Little Girl Who Could Not Cry

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 118 hosted this week by the brilliantly talented Chrissa!

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Sorrow makes us all children again — destroys all differences of intellect. The wisest know nothing. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

It is a red-hot kettle 

the one I was never meant to hold 

and my heart that burns with longing 

has not yet learned to let it go 

my soul yearns to go backwards 

and speak with the child I once was 

warn of hurt and danger 

preventing so many scars 

for I have learned to carry heavy burdens 

and how to fall slipping in regret 

trying to keep it all together 

holding tight to things not mine to get 

but like the Red-Footed Falcon 

freedom is the truest way 

and tears of loss and heartache 

were never meant to be caged 

you cannot carry an ocean nor a thousand buckets of rain 

so why would you carry everyone's sorrows 

and keep holding on to all the pain? 

you see every poem is a message 

 that my own heart needs to hear 

and drop by drop of ink and words 

have helped me find the tears. 

Direction of the Heart

"Seeing Black & White"  photography by the very talented Susie Clevenger.

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 116

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The past is not a package one can lay away. ~Emily Dickinson

In my dreams I see reflections of yesterday

Leading me down black and white highways

to places I once had been

I wander backwards

Heading into the past

Holding moments long since gone

I see the faces I miss so much

 and hear voices

That I have not heard in years

Holding children that have long since grown up

For in life, I have seen many things change

Right before my eyes

Each one is a part of what has molded the direction that my heart follows now

The joy keeps me hopeful

The storms inspire change

The loss has given me calluses upon my knees

Giving me the strength to keep moving forward

No matter what lies ahead

For my heart knows where I come from

And that gives me the greatest direction of all.

Time-Released Capsules

I take in the day

like an elixir

swallowing hard

as it both gives

and takes away

It slows the disease

of indifference

yet adds to the baggage

my mind seems to hoard

like an old fool and his guns

waiting to shoot into the distance

but the time never arrives

you see complacency never pulls the trigger

yet neither does courage

there is a progression in the daring of bravery

but that same force also holds a stillness

a silent strength and knowing

that where one stands is destiny

butterflies know that strength

they do not contemplate yesterday

nor analyze what tomorrow holds

unaware of the confines of time

they linger in the moment

and there they truly live.

Photo credit: Courtesy Google Images

The Art of Living

Photography by Ali Falak Image source

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 70

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Truth is the daughter of Time. ~Aulus Gellius

I used to long to dream in color

for I lived in a black and white world

all the edges of my day

 were cut like diamonds in a card board box

that had no cracks big enough

to let in the light

since then I have learned

 the art of living is a slow lesson

and sometimes what we learn

takes days that blend into years

to finally understand and truly see

to live you must be willing

to first face the truth

 then accept what is before you

and forgive what is in the past

it is a process of movement

letting go and moving on

brush strokes of beauty

do not come from still hands

most lessons are better learned

by doing

and no one else can do it for us

Drink Up

Courtesy Google Images

Linking with Poets United for Poetry Pantry # 425


The tragedy of life is not so much what men suffer, but rather what they miss.

~Thomas Carlyle

We define ourselves
 not by the struggles that we have in life
 but rather by the way we face them
 and handle their affect day by day
 that decides what we become.
  Life and the battles we face are not a respecter of persons
  They do not withhold the blessings nor the strife.
  They come together with the air that feeds our lungs
 like a cup and saucer for us to drink up.
  Some of us sip it cautiously
 and others swallow it wholeheartedly
 and enjoy every drop.
 Drink up my friend!  
Drink up!

Remarkable Calamities

Linking with Imaginary Gardens for The Tuesday Platform brought to us by Sanaa
Also linking with The Sunday Muse
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"Nothing is so common-place as to wish to be remarkable."
~ Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr


Like an eccentric artist life re-makes me
over and over again
building me up high
like a big city skyscraper
then burning me down
to ash
just to remold me
better and
stronger
lovely to the soul's eye
but do not be foolish
for
i am an endeavor
an arduous journey
that no missionary
would volunteer for
a vessel unseaworthy
a tiger with not all my stripes
a film not yet developed
a plant with few leaves
but there is growth
it is a process
with slow progress
a becoming of sorts
the lessons re-shape me
the alchemy of scrap metal
turned to coins of a greater worth
the cost of expansion
is a heavy price
a thousand bruises and tears
one hundred skinned knees
and many sleepless nights.

Skinned Up Knees

Courtesy Google Images

Linking with Imaginary Gardens for "Fussy Little Forms" ~ Chained Rhyme
Imagined by Marian

A "Chained Rhyme" is where  the last syllable or word of each line is followed by a rhyme on the first word or syllable of the next line.
Here is my attempt:

"Don't spend time beating on a wall, hoping to transform it into a door."
~Coco Chanel



I used to think that my skinned up knees were from the asphalt
fault always seemed easy to find in the path ahead
instead I learned that it was my own steps taken
break en' my groove all by myself and my choice in directions
affections drove me like gravity and magnet's pull
full of lessons learned down gravel roads
closed with signs say en' danger ahead
in red clear as day, but I kept going anyway!

Open Door

Courtesy Google Images

Linking with Imaginary Gardens for The Tuesday Platform

Imagined by Sanaa

Freedom begins between the ears. ~Edward Abbey

A soul that is hungry
will search beyond built walls
longing for a freedom
that some never know
it is a journey that can be
like an African safari in the dark
but like most cherished treasures
its attainment has a cost
for hunting can make some
choose to pick up a gun
and it is a lifelong lesson
to learn
freedom was yours
before you
opened the door.


This was originally written for a writing prompt we did at our Word Crafter Meeting last week.  Click here to read Chrissa's beautiful and mysterious response to the prompt.

Wisdom Has Callused Feet

The Mag #302

The man who views the world at fifty the same as he did at twenty has wasted thirty years of his life. ~Muhammad Ali

If I could go back in time and look at my wedding through my divorced eyes what would I see? Would it be disappointment or a waist of time?

A bouquet of regrets held by a fool in white?

If I could go back to my childhood roots and see myself skipping through eyes with now slow shoes what would I see?  Would it be awkward steps that lead to the wrong road? A journey of ignorance or a blind traveler that still rushes to the unknown?

Truth is I just can't go back.  There are no time travelers and no magic rabbits in hats.

This life I have been living is a course that must be  hardily explored to advance.

For wisdom is a raw experience that requires exertion to truly understand.








When I look back over my life I realize that there is no way that I could know then what I know now.  Even if I could travel in time and give my self a million warnings, and believe me I needed a million of them, it just would not be the same.  I am who I am today because of all the troubles and the many blessings combined.   They have all played a part in molding me into the person I have become; a person full of compassion, hope, love, tolerance, a little bit of wisdom, with hands that know how to let go of regrets, and a few calluses to prove it. :-)

The Echo of Silence

The Mag #258

Also linking with Poetry Jam for the prompt "Silence".



Silence is a text easy to misread.  ~A.A. Attanasio

Ignorance is a dark hall that seems to have no doors.
Where wisdom has no voice that fools can soon ignore.
And truth can be a luxury when it is nowhere to be found
as secrets can deceive like lies when they do abound.
For the truth holds a certain power like a shelter in the rain
and when it is abandoned it leaves one vulnerable to more pain.




When I was around 4 years old we had a gold fish that lived in a bowl on top of our console television.  One day I was left in the house alone while the family was doing some yard work.  I got the wonderful idea to feed the fish.  Everyone else was doing something productive and I wanted to do something to.  So I decided to get the little shaker bottle of fish food and make myself useful.  Once I started pouring it seemed that more would be better than less, after all, it was probably very hungry.  The rest of the story speaks for itself.  You know the outcome.  Too much dinner for fish is a certain death indeed.  A few hours later I heard the sad gasp of my mother as she discovered the fish floating on the top of the water.  At the time I did not realize what I had actually done.  It was not until I was older that I put two and two together.  You see, ignorance is not always kind.  At least not for the poor gold fish in a fish bowl.  Not knowing what I had done, was less painful for me at 4 years old, but if someone had shown me how to feed them and why, maybe little Goldie would have lived a longer life.  The echo of silence tends to be a sad sound indeed.

True Testament

Emergence: Surreal Oil Painting by J. J. Long

Truth, like gold, is to be obtained not by its growth, but by washing away from it all that is not gold. ~Leo Tolstoy

Any man can tell the story of what he has learned upon his way and those around him will listen, but it is the account shared by the one that has emerged from the grips of the agony of life's hardest obstacles, faced their demons eye to eye and risen from the depths of deep despair that have a voice that reaches more than just ears.  They speak through the creaking of steps taken on the hardest of floors.  It is that sound that our soul  hears, and then hearkening begins.  It is the echo of sound that reoccurs from this that proves to me the miracles that are born from adversity.  For it seems that it is the evidence of recovery that comes from true redemption that reveals the greatest miracles of all.


Linking with Imaginary Gardens and "The Tuesday Platform".



 

I Should Have Listened To My Mother

 Google Images

"The past can't see you, but the future is listening." ~Terri Guillemets

The Brilliant Teacher

Starry Night by Alex Ruiz

 

 

The Mag #234

 

 

 

"When it is dark enough, you can see the stars." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

 

 

 

Every soul is a brilliant student and teacher

 like the stars in the midnight sky.

Each endeavor we undertake

 is a shimmering example

be it wrong or be it right.

 

All the decisions one man can manufacture
are a beacon for those willing to truly view
and they become a bright lesson of guidance
of what another man should never do.


For our lives are a monument on display
 like a planetarium or chalk board at school,
and our actions profess the truths
that speaks for both scholars and for fools.








One thing I have learned over the years watching people and taking a closer look into my own mirror is this:


We all are teachers in this life.  We advise others not just in our triumphs but also in our mistakes.   Like stars in the midnight sky we shine bright when it is dark.  Adversity and how we handle it can be the most brilliant teacher of all.  It enlightens understanding much faster than the way of complacency for both the individual and the onlookers.   The clergy teach us, but so does the criminal.  They each have a message to share.   For this world is one big classroom, and we are not just the students we are the teachers as well. 






What is the brightest lesson your life has taught to someone else in your sphere of influence?
Has someone in your life taught you a valuable lesson you would like to share?