Through Space & Time

 

"Migration" Painting by Eddie Schrieffer

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 128

Come join us!

The poet lights the light and fades away. But the light goes on and on. ~Emily Dickinson

 

 

Poetry does not always plead nor pull

sometimes it is stoic like the moon

yet still frivolous and soft like butterflies

it braves the weather of war and change

yet endures the loneliness of an unopened book

timeless it floats on the oxygen of souls

never ending on the last poignant line

yet those that hold it close to their heart

take it with them with their dying breath.

Head in the Clouds

Image Source

Linking with Poets United for Midweek Motif ~  Clouds
brought to us by Sumana

“All of us have a place in history.  Mine is clouds.”

~ Richard Brautigan

I am a poet and if I look right through you like you’re a window on a rainy afternoon

It is because my head is in the clouds dear friend

Pondering life like a scientist searches for a cure to the latest disease

I am a poet and if I walk right passed you like a snobby model on her way to a runway gig

It is because my head is in the clouds dear friend

Noticing the smallest things around me that inspire a poem

Like a geologist excavating through the smallest of rubble for bones

I am a poet and if I seem quiet like a shy child out in the city

It is because my head is in the clouds dear friend

My thoughts are louder than the voices around me

Like drums in a flute festival they drown out all other sounds

I am a poet and if I watch you like a kitten watches the red dot

It is because my head is in the clouds dear friend

Like a lover is fascinated by his latest love,

 I will make you immortal in one stanza of poetry.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

Life is Poetic

Photo Credit

A poet swallows life and exhales painted words. ~Terri Guillemets

A Mad Scientist with Words

Courtesy Google Images

If there's a book you really want to read, but it hasn't been written yet,

then you must write it. 

~Toni Morrison


Stories.....
we all have one....
some love printed ones...
others have a favorite....
and we all enjoy to have one read to us when we are a child.
But in the course of things, some of us remain readers and others become writers.
I am not sure what triggers the difference.  Does a writer just have so much they want to say to the world that they have no choice in the matter?
I only know that when I was a child writing gave me 

a certain peace.
As an adult, writing went on the back burner for a long while, raising small children and learning to be on my own, however one day I decided to carry on.
I picked up a pen and a note pad and turned into a mad scientist with words. Most of my waking moments I spent dwelling on ideas and thoughts that I wanted to write into poetry.  I cleaned houses for a living and would jot notes on the job and I kept a journal with me most of the time.
Many years have passed since that time, and many things have changed in my life- marriages, homes, jobs- but one thing has not changed, my love of writing.

A Language No Book Can Teach

The heart is not simply suspended in a body but in a culture, a place, a time.

  ~Mimi Guarneri, The Heart Speaks

 

 

 

Lonely Is A Velvet Chair

Google Images

 Linking with Poetry Pantry #220

"Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty." 

~Mother Teresa

In the old house I grew up in, there was an antique velvet chair that sat in the corner of the living room draped with a sheet. It was never used as far as I could tell.  Mother said it was too fine a chair to be dirtied up by our sweaty little bodies. So there it stood ,while I sat on the floor to watch television.

Years later after she passed away, the chair ended up in my grandparent's garage once again draped with a sheet. I came across it searching for old photos of my family. I had spent many nights there at my grandparent's and other friend's houses throughout that difficult time.

Looking back now, I realize it was simply my Dad's way of protecting me from the emptiness that so filled our home. I suppose he did not understand that loneliness is not merely solidarity, for I learned then, that it is also magnified by being kept apart from where you are meant to be.



Of Snow and Ice

Photo Credit

The color of springtime is in the flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination.

  ~Terri Guillemets

Winter's paradox is a dazzling dame in chiffon so white

with supple lips of silence and sparkling yet peircing eyes.

Her graceful beauty is a fascination for all who long to see

yet when the cold winds blow she is as harsh as she can be.

Her hair flows like a flurry her skin soft like sheets of snow.

She has a polished elegance that we all wish we could know.

Her graceful beauty is a fascination for all who long to see

yet when the cold winds blow she is as harsh as she can be.

She glides like dancing snowflakes and has tenure where she lay.

Her awe becomes beguiling when we hope that she might stay,

for her graceful beauty is a fascination for all who long to see

yet when the cold winds blow she is as harsh as she can be.

Farewell Again Autumn

"Besides the autumn poets sing,
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the haze."
~Emily Dickinson

Dearest Autumn my love so fair
how I wish you would never leave.

Your colors a bounty beyond compare
in your arms I long to cleave.

Our time together too short once more
a twirling dance I don't want to end.

But like a fickle kiss you will ignore
and leave me alone over and over again.

So with these words I take one last gaze
to your mystery and all your charms.

For my heart you always swiftly take
as I await you with open arms.



I know that autumn is long since gone, but it is my favorite season, and when the words came I went with it like the wind.

What is your favorite season?

Reaching Out

Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see. ~Mark Twain

I have learned through my children that when it comes to learning and growing you have to be willing to reach out and feel your way around, like a blind person in a maze.  My experience with blogging has been no different.  I first created my blog in March of 2010.  At that time in my life, I was going through a difficult family problem,and blogging became a wonderful diversion and outlet to my crazy world.  The whole blogging experience has been such a wonderful and uplifting journey.  I have met so many amazing poets, and made some even more amazing friends in the process. 

I recently received a versatile blogger award from one of my amazing blogging friends Tug.

I would like to thank you Tug for considering me for this wonderful award.  In the blogging world we have the opportunity to reach out and meet and communicate with people all over the world.  It is an amazing experience indeed.

Here are my nominees for The Versatile Blogger Award:

Life At Willow Manor with Tess

Poems By Ninotaziz

The Poetry of Alaurilee

Signed....Bkm

Circling The Cuckoo's Nest

Enchanted Oak with Chris

Bob at Average Poet

In The Corner of My Eye with Mary

Star Dreaming With Sherry Blue Sky

Kerry with Skylover

Eileen with Words And Thoughts

Inside The Mind of a Highly Sensitive Person

Imperfect Prose with Emily

Out of My Ocean with Susannah

Brian with Way Station One

Each one of these blogs has something wonderful to offer the blogging and writing world.  I think you will enjoy them as much as I do.

Now here are the rules:

1. Thank the person that gave you this award, and link back to his/her blog.

2. Nominate 15 bloggers for this award, and notify them about the nomination.

3. Finally, tell  readers 7 things about yourself.

(I know that everyone is busy these days, so if you do not want to follow the rules....that is fine....I understand. Just know that you are loved and acknowledged here in the blogosphere.) :-)

Now for the 7 things about myself....YIKES:

1.  I am the proud grandmother of 10 wonderful grandkids.

2.  I never went to college....I only graduated from the school of hard knocks.

3.  I am a terrible speller.

4. I am dreadfully afraid of heights.

5. I went to boarding school in 10th and 11th grade.

6. I am distantly related to Edgar Cayce.

7. I live in tennis shoes...high heels hurt me in less than 5 minutes!

(4 of my kids and me)

Somewhere In Your Life

"All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on." ~Havelock Ellis

Hi my name is loneliness I am somewhere in your life but if you dry your tears and simply look above

you will see that in your life there is love.

Hi my name is fear I am somewhere in your life but if you uncover your eyes and walk out into light's beam

you will see that in your life there can be peace.

Hi my name is discouragment I am somewhere in your life but if you pick yourself up and open the closed door

you will see that in your life there is hope.

Hi my name is doubt I am somewhere in your life but if you walk out on a limb all the way

you will see that in your life there is faith.

Hi my name is bitterness I am somewher in your life but if you open up your heart and let go of the pain

you will see that in your life there is forgiveness to take it's place.

Linking with One Shot Wednesday

Also Sharing with lovely Emily at Imperfect Prose

Just A Glimmer

With just a glimmer of strength you could stop the raging sea.

With just a glimmer of grace you could set the captives free.

With just a glimmer of hope you could clear a stormy sky.

With just a glimmer of light you could make a rainbow in the night.

With just a glimmer of faith you could heal a world of scars.

With just a glimmer of love you could build a bridge between two hearts.

With just a glimmer of truth you could open up people's eyes accross the land.

With just a glimmer of compassion the whole world could reach out a helping hand.

With just a glimmer of forgiveness you could turn a war into peace.

With just a glimmer of God all mankind would fall down to his knees.

"A little faith will bring your soul to heaven, but a lot of faith will bring heaven to your soul. " ~Author Unknown

Sharing with lovely Emily at Imperfect Prose

 

Humanity

I am not a river, for sometimes I must turn around and go back to where I began.

I am not a feather, for I can stand strong against the wind.

I am not a bridge, for there are times I cannot hold everything up by myself.

I am not a garden, for I can thrive no matter what the wind blows in.

I am not a sparrow, for sometimes I destroy what I build.

I am not a road map, for I am not always an example of the way to go.

I am  not an ocean, for sometimes my deepest motives become quite shallow.

I am not a diamond, for my value cannot be priced or marked.

I am not a window, for there are times I cannot see beyond my own threshold.

I am not a forest, for sometimes I must get up and walk away alone.

I am not an island, for there are times I must touch something by my side.

I am not an eagle, for I do not always know what I am searching for.

I am not a sunset, for darkness cannot overtake me at every dusk.

I am not a padlocked door, for I am open to what may come.

I am not a rainbow, for my colors leave an enduring mark.

All The Words Unwritten

She sorted her thoughts like pages of ideas that were never used
a blank canvas with dull edges unsharpened yet truly sharp                                                                    
it was like dusty guitars with no strings to play
or an empty crystal vase
her pearls were lost at the bottom of a drawer never to be worn
the creme brulee would remain untorched
each one a perfect thread to a beautiful quilt never made
.....all because when idea's orb was within her grasp
she did not take the time to get a pencil
and simply write it down.

Magpie Tales