Scarf Upon a Fence Post

 

Photography by Elspeth Diederix

But we loved with a love that was more than love... ~Edgar Allan Poe

If a heart could swirl like a scarf upon a fence post, mine would choose to do that with you.

 A dance of what is and could be.

 The wonder of discovery.

 The kind that new lovers hold, and dreamers think on and want to know.

The yearning that lonely hearts don’t speak of

 is as vast as ocean waves,

yet as quiet as a soft sigh can roll off parted lips.

The feeling I speak of feels like the most sacred of prayers.

Hands stretched out in adoration.

A reaching out and inward the way lovers’ hands will do.

For if a heart could swirl like a scarf upon a fence post,

 mine would choose to do all of that with you.

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #243

There is Warmth in the Congregation,

 

I tell you what I see — the landscape of the spirit requires a lung, but no tongue. 

~Emily Dickinson

 

Sisters I speak to you of loss

the cuts that tear down and leave us broken

they hit just as sure as a lumberjack

and we are never quite the same

but despair and love are a two-winged bird

even in the struggle to move on

there is a promise that lingers

and it has the power to lift us

remember that in your winter journeys

for birds soar the sky together

and there is comfort and warmth in the congregation

~~~

Daughters I speak to you of hope

even in the heavy burden of doubt

it has the power to change the landscape

if we give it light like an open curtain in morning

for life is both a forest and a mountain of cut logs

the path is hard and lovely

but even in the struggle to endure

there is a warming fire in our truest home

~~~

Mothers I speak to you of life

beyond the cries and breath of being

and before the prayers that yearned for something more

there are seeds planted long before the blossom’s greenery

soul’s song carried long before the throat a voice

for every mother carries and birth’s eternity.

 

For Susie 💖

 

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #197.  The image here is different than the one at the prompt for my poem became a tribute to brilliant lighted souls and love but the words hold resemblance to the Muse image.  

 

The Evidence of Eternity

 

“James Dean playing the bongos, NYC, 1955. Photographed by Dennis Stock ”

Ephemeral, eternal heart! ~Emily Dickinson

 

We are moved by the wings of longing

So we dance

We reach

We love

It is how we know we are truly alive

By more than a pulse of a beating heart

For there is a certain movement in everything

The soaring of unseen wings and visible hands bracing the fall

we bleed

we bruise

we learn

and rise to love again

it is the evidence of eternity

proof our heart beats for more than the blood within our veins.

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #193

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What Hands & Hearts Hold

Linking today with the Sunday Muse for Muse #181  come join us!

 

Speech is a prank of Parliament,
Tears a trick of the nerve, –
But the heart with the heaviest freight on
Doesn't always swerve.
~Emily Dickinson

 

When my hands were small

I could not hold the heaviness of many truths

although my heart could carry every loss like a fire fighter

leaving a burning building with lives to save

 still I wanted to know what lied ahead

I wanted answers to every question

to know why God was everywhere

and my mother could not be found

uncertainty leaves a certain ache

not knowing the next move

nor what will happen next

has a way of moving us all

one way or another

 like pain can lead a man to drink

and yet love can do the same

I have come to know that there is movement in all things

in the gift of joy and the loss of grief

a bird swiftly flies to a higher branch

 yet his feathers slowly fall

each moving somewhere different than where they began

my hands have grown with time and callus

and I have held the heaviness of knowing many things

and still there are many questions

even though my heart has learned to hold too much

 like a bishop holds the sacrament

and a knight his mighty longsword

bravery only moves forward

and love is always brave.

Don't Speak

 

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #180

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“Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.”
― Sylvia Plath

 

I see your words like birds

Swift high and soon gone

Your lips a force of nature

Breaking hearts like an old love song

Beauty is like that

Strong yet it makes us weak

We long to kiss the lips

Unable to even speak

But your words are like missiles

Headed straight for the heart of France

I see the danger ahead

 yet still I choose the dance.

A Million Menageries,

 Surreal Art by Catrin Welz-Stein

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #161

where we are writing, sharing and celebrating my amazing poet friend Shay's birthday!!

“One need not be a chamber to be haunted; One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing Material place.”  ~ Emily Dickinson

 

You ask me what lies to the west?

What cracks open my sky like a treasure chest?

As if secrets were never meant to be kept!

Yet I only look towards the eastern sky.

Longing for birds that have already flown by,

With a cage in my hand and hope in my eyes.

Holding memories like broken glass with no gloves.

Some questions have no answer my love,

And some answers are never enough!

Hope Leaps Like a Fox in Winter

 

Surreal Artwork by Ronald Ong

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #151

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Love must be as much a light as a flame. ~Henry David Thoreau

My weary hands ache

from all the holding on

and the letting go

that is the cost of greedy hands

 and a hasty heart

there was once a time

 when you were the warmth to my winter

the flame my hands held close to

but fast fires can only burn so long

the burning house sooner or later falls to ash

a rubble one must walk away from

the season comes and goes

but my heart always hopes for more

it leaps like a fox in winter

and holds tight to all it finds

it can be a heavy burden

in the loss of letting go.

 

 

 

My Heart is a Roaming Lion

 

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 124

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I feel your embrace in my deepest of dreams

and I realize love is a refuge that cannot be torn down

bullets are feathers that carry no weight

hatchets cannot swing that far

death is a bridge we all must cross

heading north

but love is a compass that points in all directions

back before I knew the ache

of an empty chair at the table

my heart was a roaming lion

and your love was a tree branching out

that kept me safe

I rested upon you full weight

the fear of falling never crossed my mind

my heart had never known the pounding

of hitting the ground so hard

now I roam streets on my own

hunting for places

that no longer stand before me

yet I feel your embrace in my deepest of dreams

and I have come to know

love is a refuge

that cannot be torn down.

Swept Away

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 113

Hosted by the utterly awe inspiring poet Shay!

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My heart is like a child that still stands beside me

Uncertain but hopeful of what the future holds

We watch the world together standing at the steps

Hoping the world will see the beauty we hold

So I wear my best hat even on the windiest of days

Yet it is always my heart that gets swept away.

True Shelter

I have found shelter in many places in this world

But the important ones were never formed with shingles nor brick

For my heart longs to linger in the softest of places

Where kindness and love are the glue of all that is held together

It is stronger than any mortar

More enduring than the largest steel

It keeps me warmer than any furnace ever could

You just have to open your heart and your eyes to find it

For it has a map that can only be traced upon by the fingers of the soul

You see love reaches out a hand and holds no matter how many times we let it go

And that is where I long to stay

and no matter what the weather holds

 that is where you shall find me.

Love is a Mighty Hunter

Image Source

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 107
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“No language can express the power, and beauty, and heroism, and majesty of a mother's love. It shrinks not where man cowers, and grows stronger where man faints, and over wastes of worldly fortunes sends the radiance of its quenchless fidelity like a star.”

 ~Edwin Hubbell Chapin

I parade my scars like a mighty flag

Bearing stripes for all to see

Lapping love from every bowl

Knowing it is a true luxury

My mother was the first to wash my face

To provide sustenance

 yet my first greatest ache

for a child was not meant

to be motherless so early in the race

So like a tiger I became an early hunter

Searching for the warmest of hearts

Longing for something more

But I never had to venture far

For women are nurturers

From every valley to mountain top

And they will carry you to their den

If they see that you are lost

Love is a mighty force

That drives us to and fro

It keeps us ever searching

Further down the road

The memory of our greatest love

Is a gift we hold with might

Yet we freely give

You see women always nurture

Those in need for all the days they live.

Dedicated to every mother that found me along my searching path.

Virginia Van Horn

Dorothy Van Horn

Pam Thackeray

Ann Cornelius

Gloria Galindo

Joanne Moore

Carol Martin

and every other beautiful woman that mothered me along the way

 I want to say.

Thank you!

Bittersweet

Linking with the Sunday Muse for the BIG 99th prompt hosted by the utterly amazing poet Shay!

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Love is a sweet tyranny, because the lover endureth his torments willingly. ~Proverb

We all begin whole

Ruby red cheeked

No scrapes nor bruises

Light with the seeds of hope

Held by the hands of love

Yet later that same love is also

The hand that slices us to the core.

Life Holds Love Hard

Image Source

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 94
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A man is not where he lives, but where he loves. ~Latin Proverb

Life holds love hard and eager to not  let it go

And love cups life gently with open hands

They kiss every night by the light of the moon

For life is nothing without love

Just an empty pool

That no one can swim

Cold like the arctic

Where bare feet cannot tread

Yet when love is ours to hold

We see it in everything that surrounds us

And we become both fulfilled within

and part of the blended beauty

that encompasses every step we take

I have held love and felt it

A hypnotic and powerful tugging

A longing that drives us to the farthest of places

And takes us back home safely again

And sometimes tattered and torn

I have endured many sleepless nights

To keep it safe and alive

Dabbed its brow with a soft wet cloth

To bring the fever down

Picking it up to keep it from danger

And at times I have had to let it go

Giving it the freedom, it surely deserved

And even then my love grew stronger

For life is nothing without love.

Colder Than Colorado

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 87

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The naïve follow their hearts. The wise lead with their hearts. 
~Author Unknown 

Some hearts are colder than Colorado

And more than toes get frost bite

treading through that kind of cold

I learned that in the morning frost of childhood

And lessons learned early are not easy to forget

For even when we walk away

And find warmth in loving things

The sensation of losing feeling

And not being able to move forward

Can be a ghost that haunts more than halls

Freedom was a dream I mapped out in my heart

And then one day it guided me onward

Like a beautiful horse on it’s beaten path

Now I rest upon the softness of kindness

And that is where I choose to stay

And until I take my last breath on this earth

Kindness will be the choice I make.

Wising everyone a lovely holiday season, with a safe and happy New Year!
Merry Christmas Ya'll!

If you are up for one more poem for the prompt
click HERE

Calling All Gentlemen

Photography by Guy Kawasaki

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 85
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Gentleness can be taught in the slow tender stroke of years

But in its essence, it is either already resting in the heart of its holder

Or absolutely nowhere near

You can lead a biker to a bar

But you can’t make him drink

And getting him to stop

May be harder than you think

You can place a kitten in his arms

But whether he holds it tenderly

Is out of your hands

So my advice to you is

Never hand a kitty to anyone 

Except a loving woman or man.

~Just for the record I have nothing against biker dudes.  In fact I find them quite intriguing, especially if they are not afraid to hold a kitten sweetly and enjoy it.~

The Dream Poems

   Rebeca Cygnus photography
Visit her website HERE

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 77

In a dream you are never eighty.  ~Anne Sexton


I double dog dared myself to write 2 poems for this one, so here are my poems for the promt:

The Casualties of Dreams,

Awake I dream of what could be

But Asleep I dream of what has been

re-living my past as a person at times I barely know

each place is a little different

and yet everything is always the same

I brave storms in rooms I have lived in

and walk close to the edge of cliffs where

I know I have never walked

fearless as I would have been

 before I ever knew what it was to fall

yet all the fears I have learned to hold

come out like pigeons wanting crumbs

and every struggle I have wrestled with

manifests itself like a spirit

 that floats through walls

that I rarely can escape

I almost lose my dearest love

 down every dangerous street

As I fall further from where I once was

Lost and feeling alone

Then my father

 who has been gone for decades

 enters asking me

 do I know where I am?

My voice answers

 I am only dreaming

As my heart answers,

Yes I am here to visit you!

For awake I dream of what could be

But asleep I dream of what has been.

************************************

The Soul's Odyssey,


It is as an excursion of the heart
when we lay our head to rest
where the matters of the soul
journey back to be a guest
the day rewinds from eyes open to eyes shut
 and our thoughts reach out to explore
opening every closed window
and running through every open door
from childhood homes and play grounds
to peril in the streets
it is a high action movie
that is viewed from within the sheets

Hoarding the Light

Image Source

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 75

"We are star stuff which has taken it's destiny into it's own hands."

~Carl Sagan

Note: It was when I was a child that I learned to hold on tight

keeping all I could call my own

and clutch on to it with all my might

my whole adulthood I have been learning

to simply let it go.....

You Cannot Cage an Orb of Light but You Can Cage Your Own Heart,

To the east their hearts held loneliness

To the west it was a certain fear

In-between there was a desolation

That spread like a woman’s tears

Then one day an orb of light arrived

That lit up their hearts and the sky

So desperate they would lose it

They took to ropes ladders and ties

Trying to hold it down

It lasted about one day

And then the orb was gone

They couldn’t make it stay

I wonder if they would have let it freely stand

Maybe it would have chosen to remain

Some things cannot be caged

But what our hearts choose to hold

is truly within our hands

Hold On

Photo by Evie Shaffer from Pexels

Linking with Toni’s wonderful Wed Muse

It is a music, non-music prompt.

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   I am broken but I will not bend

  And I will not move on like the fickle wind

Here I am with everything I own

A suitcase with my heart alone

Do not open the door and make me depart

Just open your arms and take my heart

For I am broken but I will not bend

And I will not move on like the fickle wind

I am a fire, and a warmth that is true

I hold it all for only you

Do not stay cold and leave me lonely

Hold me close in love’s true ceremony

For I am broken but I will not bend

And I will not move on like the fickle wind

I took a chance and changed your way of life

Now I hope you will hold on and also change mine.

Love Flows Deep

Photography by Edouard Boubat

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 68
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“Every seashell is a broken star scattered in the sand.  A tiny wisp of the ocean lies trapped in it throbbing, for a lost wish.”    ~Author unknown

My grandmother had a huge conch seashell that she used as a door stop.  Her home was an old small house that was probably un-level making doors not stay ajar, but I loved it there.  My most fond childhood memories were there with my grandparents.  For years in my adulthood I would go to that place in my dreams.   A simple old house that held an ocean of lovely memories, much like that seashell that my grandmother had convinced me held the sounds of the sea deep inside for me to hear.

Love finds us

and holds us close

Tight yet gentle

Like a mother’s arms

We learn to hold on

And then we carry it with us

Through storm’s journey

And sunny shores

No matter how far off we drift

it remains close enough to hear

It is a majestic ocean

Within our veins

And we can never be lost

If we learn to truly listen 

To our heart

What the Heart Can Hold

Today Toni over at Imaginary Gardens is asking us to write a poem from a quote.
Come join us!

My closet is becoming smaller

Condensing like a garbage compactor

With so many more things stuffed in every year

But my heart finds more and more places to fill

 no matter how large the size or high the price

It grows like a child in winter

And no matter the cost
it always longs for more.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019