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In a month filled with witches, goblins and monsters, I find
true comfort in knowing that one thing remains -
that love remains .
And what better way to express than through the
tale (the understanding) of love which is less than it wishes to be?
For surely we've all experienced that longing - have all been
awakened by emptiness we cannot explain.
I am convinced of one truth -
We can love someone so much,
but we can never love them as much as we miss
them.
forever this
the want for more
eternities await
a kiss unknown by lovers
a touch returned
too late
would that tomorrow
death be mine
would not for time I ask
but let him come
that I might live -
the chance
for coming back
Perfect!
I am judging for the October Rising Star Shining Brighter
contest. Thank you for your entry, and for sharing your many
talents with us. I wish you much
luck with the competition.
Although I am not a fan of horror, I admit that your abilities with creating
suspense and character kept me riveted.
My only hope was that ultimately, this wasn't a tale of darkness,
but a tale of truth - and the power of forgiveness, love, and compassion.
I fully expected the little boy forgive the monster, therefore taking away its powers -
and changing that which was horrifying into a thing of beauty.
But ahhhhhhhh.........then I remember. It's Halloween!!
hide my strength
in goodness
hide my power in words
of light
be the change
that I envision -
I am love
and I am might
Extremely well written, my friend.
I am judging for the October Rising Star Shining Brighter
contest. Thank you for your entry, and for sharing your many
talents with us. I wish you much
luck with the competition.
You should go on tour - visit college campuses and speak on the things that matter in
relationships, the things that remain, the things that outlast genetics and a little yellow
bikini........
I'd be willing to bet that your wife has her own style, her own way, her own thing, and a presence
that isn't dependent on you.
She has likely come to realize that she is perfect, even with
her imperfections.......
In our scars, we find real beauty. In our faults, we become the unique (wonderful)
individuals we are meant to be......
how is now
I've come to see
the best of me
was here -
pulsing purple veins
and eating apples
from the ground
was never meant
that I would find my truth
in someone else
what beauty
I became (at last I see)
the mirror doesn't know
the best of me
Lovely work and a true testament to love, my friend. I am reviewing for the September Rising Stars
Shining Brighter Contest (sponsored by The Circle of Sisters). Thank you for your entry
and for the talent that makes you a STAR.
Beyond love, perhaps the most intimate of all subjects
is death – that passing into something more – something we
don’t quite understand. For in our simple mortal hearts,
we feel only the emptiness as we struggle to make right and wrong
from that which is a part of life, and a part of love.
One of the first poems I ever wrote was called “White Crosses”, and while
I don’t remember exactly the words, it spoke to the tears of strangers,
those who would pass without knowing – without ever tasting
the sweetness of that name.
Love endures…….always without exception. Death is the end
of this life, but it is not the end of love.
This is heartfelt and beautiful – and admire your ability to capture
this sorrow to words.
with sweetest contemplation
the path
already taken
by moments undecided
and kept as yesterday
where I shall find
another life
of times I can’t remember
the pull of honeysuckle
ten thousand miles
from home
Wow! Another piece that speaks to the power of the spirit!
As much as I wish it were otherwise, there aren’t many who truly
understand the connection between spirit and nature -- of
the woods, the sacred tabernacle that is a stand of pines……..
The holy place – the cathedral built of cedar and light.
I’ve often wondered how anyone could doubt the presence of God when the world
is filled with proof – the blush of the breeze, the chill of a spring, ten thousand tiny feathers
moving in unison across the sky……….
I love this piece – for its wisdom and for its grace. And I love you
even more than I did – for this piece of you that I see!!
somewhere
a crush of hummingbirds
press into a garden
unsure the source
would urge them to remain
where promise
grows in marigold
tulip trees and ivy
hovers long above a kiss
a guitar without strings
Without a clear understanding of why, I chose this piece from your port. I
could only assume it was due to my Keetoowah heritage,
and a love for all things relating to the native American Indian……
I am at times a fool……for what surely brought me here
was this wonderful and inspirational piece of work – a piece of work
that speaks to the inner voice that lives in each of us – but especially
those who are listening!
I love this not only for the message
but for the way in which you present this to us -
as something you were unprepared for – something that
all of us may find. Surely I AGREE!!!
Absolutely BEAUTIFUL!
where was I
when for a while
I wandered back this way
into the path I cleared before
when passed another day
met by love I thought was gone
warmed against my skin
gave me love (I could not lose)
and brought me home
again
There are those who believe in the grandeur of things - that great work directly correlates to
the number of words used.
I've long begged to differ.....and you've proved me right.
With few words, you paint the tapestry that is love, and few can argue
that you are a master.
once in sleep
I drifted
sailing somewhere
far away
caught in silken threads
dreams tethered
to the bed...
and I remembered
where I was
as winds returned to find
purchase in the sail
that was your love
When nothing else can reach us, love does.
We can curse and cry, close our eyes..........change the locks and
sew closed our longing kiss..........
and still
it is there -
in the moments
no one else can see
in the way the wind blows
and the way the blooms sway
a name forever written
ours to stay
love is
and still
it is there -
I am perhaps a hopeless romantic, but always I believe in the power
that is love - in the way it comes to us, and the way it stays. It is not about forever
for it IS forever - all of eternity squeezed into a moment - into that which we
can hold in our hands, that which we can hold in our hearts.
Love is never gone, is never passed, is never less than love.
Love is simply love.
Exquisite piece of work. I doubt there's a heart beating that won't understand
what you've given to us so beautifully. Thank you.
I am a believer in the majestic wonder that is nature, and also in the notion
that words can never do her justice....
That there is no grander cathedral than the one beyond the woods; no
choir wondrous enough to compare with the song of the morning dove; or music
as sweet as that of river rolling over rocks.
I loved this form and the way that you presented two separate (but like)
thoughts.......creating a link between the two with your words....
your vision....
Your subconscious understanding that we are all
connected...
(I remember) the season
sunlight and kisses
warmed to my skin
and flushing with verses
already known
dandelion wishes
sway in the yard
awaiting (the promise
of) flight
how is now
I’ve surrendered
my compass
to a curve in the river
another (bright) star
Exquisite, as is all truth! Thank you for sharing.
I'm not sure I could do it or even imagine doing it - being able to write of the loss
of my brother.
Although the possibility exists and I've lost many in my days -
friends and lovers, keepers and storytellers.
Such that I know one thing for certain - not one can replace another as the place
that we hold within our heart is but of one size and only one can fill it. And even the poet
does not know how much the heart can hold.
This is beautiful and sad - but surely love makes both the same.
death our final mystery
vapor trail into the light
darkness leaves without a trace
final witness to the night
back and forth
her longing stalls
while we fold our hands in prayer
the past at last forgiven
shall find no future there
Words have found their purpose when they are both personal and inspirational. Thank you for sharing.
Exceptional. How is it that the world goes right on
when we're breaking in two? A heart stops and the birds
still sing....the radio still screams about which song will top
the charts tomorrow....
Life goes on and I believe that sometimes we are reminded that others
exist (still) through us, and occassionally we dare to imagine the person on
the other side of our grief....the one reunited with long last loves....the one who no
longer hurts, who no longer wants......
and we wish for one more Spring...
Winter kept us both inside
before our hearth and home.
Long and starlit nights we slept
and now that winter's gone.
Life is waking all around,
cherry blossoms fill my eyes.
Gentle rains and breezes flowing,
Robins play beneath blue skies.
Dreams are always there with you,
feelings bring my eyes to tears.
There are times I swear I've known,
your whisper ringing clear.
A sunrise of our living breath,
or noontime shadows to my day.
Evenings spent in reverie
in sleep you're never far away.
Is one more springtime bloom,
a gift of love too much to ask.
To feel alive these memories,
as if this future was our past.
This is a deeply personal and inspirational piece, Fyn. Would that we all found such a beautiful way
to deal with loss. Thank you.
Perspective is everything for surely without it, we'd have nothing to
measure against. Even our perception of yesterday is changed by the night
that passed while we slept. Regrets are often painted, not as much by
the road chosen, but by the one not chosen. And the one not chosen
can only appear to be better when compared to the one we did choose.
Words such as these remind me of the needless ambiguity of words like space - time.
The average person figures they'll never understand it.
But it is so simple. Every place you ever existed is linked to a specific time ...
the school you visited thirty years after you graduated, the baseball field you played on,
the track you ran on -- none of them was the same. If they were, you might collide
with the thousands that had run on them before and after you.
The lover you kissed was not the same person he or she was sixty seconds before.
In that minute, a million skin cells had died and been replaced by new ones. The smallest
slices of space-time separated thought from action - life from death.
melody wrote
(I remember) the season
sunlight and kisses
warmed to my skin
and flushing with verses
already known
This is a thought provoking and inspirational piece, Fyn. Not only am I delighted to find it,
but I am delighted that I understand! Thank you...
With words (and not so many I might add), you painted a portrait -
one of absolution, surrender, and acceptance.
If I close my eyes, I can feel the winter wind
against my face. I can taste the bloody mixture
of chapped lips and dried tears.
Most would never notice the difference.
There is writing and there is something more - there is literature. Literature
makes us yearn for ONE MORE word....another chapter.....another place
in which we become. If you're not familiar with the book, you should check into
the book "Tinkers" by Paul Harding. Your words are similar in style to his, for in
their miniscule weight, they carry a world.
"What of miniature boats constructed of birch bark and
fallen leaves, launched onto cold water clear as air? How many
fleets were pushed out toward the middles of ponds or sent
down autumn brooks, holding treasures of acorns, or black feathers,
or a puzzled mantis? Let those grassy crafts be listed
alongside the iron hulls that cleave the sea, for they are
all improvisations built from the daydreams of men, and
all will perish, whether from the ocean siege or October breeze."
What could I say that would do this piece justice? Surely, I wish I had written it. And
that is not something I often admit.
where was I
when darkness fell
stumbled lost into the woods
in search a lantern I had none
another day I stood
and wanting nothing more
nothing more than this
a place to run
beyond myself
another woods I missed
Exquisite work, Fyn. Thank you for sharing your talents.
What a wonderful gift you were given - what a wonderful gift you still own!
When I was 12 or 13, we lived in a housetrailer and I shared an 8 X 10 room with
a sister and a brother. My sister and brother slept on the bottom bunk and I slept on the
top. I remember clearly lying on the bed and hearing my father's footsteps in the hall (as much
as it was). I would position myself so that I was barely clinging to the bed. I knew
my father would pass, see me, and come in to reposition me before kissing my forehead
and continuing down the hall. Sometimes, he was merely on his way to the bathroom
for in five minutes, I'd hear him on his return and again, I would 'drape' myself along the edge
of the bunk and wait to be saved. I was always saved!
Surely my father knew exactly what was going on. I suspect he enjoyed it as much as I did
for he never complained.
When I think of you and the trips to the spring, I am reminded of the blessing we so seldom
appreciate when we are young - that of love. We assume, as children, that everyone
has what we have. I am sure that I silently cursed the times when I was pulled out of the house to
'hold the flashlight' while my dad tinkered with a hot water heater or with a busted radiator....but I've
long since come to treasure those moments for they are pieces of my father that will live far beyond
his years........and far beyond mine.
I absolutely loved this piece and the simple flow of emotion that gave it life. Thank you for sharing
it and for sharing a piece of who you are because you were loved.
I’ve often wondered how anyone could doubt the
existence of God. For me, it is an attempt
in futility – for the moment I open my eyes,
there is the proof.
I walked along
echoes reminding
of where I was (going)
when came you to call
songbirds
as light that first morning
stumbled (from death)
into life
This is exceptional work, Jaya. I am review for the Rising Star Sponsor contest. Thank you for sharing
your words, your heart, and your song. Thank you.
Few things inspire me as Fall does -
even the speaking of their names –
September, October, November – is magical.
Hayrides, and football games, county fairs and
cashmere. Breath catches, and words tumble, visible at last
in the chill.
Eyes glisten with color – the colors of autumn –
the rich cascading (swirling) through the day – falling into us
again and again. The ground sweats beneath a
patchwork quilt of scarlet and gold - the trees give of their clothing,
and the moon seems larger (don't you think).
We swoon and sway, relishing the crunch of death beneath our
boots, the warmth of gloves pressed to eager fingers.
So many of my favorite memories were made
in the moments when summer (at last) surrendered….
This is an excellent piece of work -
far beyond poetry or prose, it is a waltz,
a tender movement of seasons and emotion -
much as life and love.
different but the same
maple scored by cedar
floating there the boats
we sailed
last on summertime
breathless intuition
builds with every thought
of winter
where buried there
the silent seed
of blooms we held today
I absolutely love this piece, for it speaks to what I believe is ‘wrong’ in our world.
The thrill in telling something on another, or for striking back
with the sharpest tongue is true entertainment to most.
If challenged, there's a laundry list of reasons why the ‘offended’ either deserved it or
started it. The fault for 'ugly' hardly ever falls where it is deserved.
If you speak in hurtful tones of me, that is not about me, but rather about you.
If in response, I sling mud at you, that is about me. I own that.
So few fail to understand that the one thing we can control is how we act, and
how we respond. Both are the truest gauge of who we are.
measure this
in miles between the
righteous and the right
was love that we were given
and love shall be
our might
dare not I eat on words
regretted
the taste of stick and stone
would seek the
sinner's liquor
and dine with death
alone
We’ve been asked to be loving and kind to one another – not just when we feel
like it, or when we think someone else is deserving. Surely, it would be easier to
care for those who are either just like us, or at the very least, easy to love.
Nicely done…..
I am reviewing on behalf of the June 2011 Rising Star Shining Brighter competition. Thank you
so much for your timely and insightful entry. Good luck, my friend.
There will come a time when you believe
everything is ended….
that will be the beginning….
Your words made me think to that, and I wonder how many people end up where
they are without any idea of where they were going when they started.
We change and we change some more. We move along, becoming what
we are meant to be, something more that was forged of both the good and the bad.
And sometimes……sometimes the absolute worst thing that could happen to us,
becomes the best thing to happen to us.
there I stood bewildered
at the ways I’d come to now
across my path
far more than once
as destiny allowed
I am reviewing on behalf of the June 2011 Rising Star Shining Brighter competition. Thank you
so much for your insightful and inspirational entry. Good luck, my friend.
You have amazing talent for pulling a reader in. I know this because I am a hard sell. I used
to claim that someone would need to be killed within the first three pages, or I wouldn't
continue to read. Now, I am a different kind of reader. I'm more atuned to the characters and
what they're doing. I look to details, and I look for characters to love.
I want a book that I can't put down....not because of the action, but because
I love the characters too much to lose them.
Your story gave me that feeling.
Now, I will say that I had hoped for more with the ending. I don't know what
that might have been - perhaps some mystery or resolution of the tale. Perhaps the main
character had always been a little leary of this girl, and yet now they share a secret,
and she has seen beyond the crazy hair or pierced brows....to something
more.....to the heart.
The most important thing about a person is almost always the thing you don't know.
Exceptional! I am reviewing on behalf of the June 2011 Rising Star Shining Brighter competition.
Thank you so much for your entry. Good luck, my friend.
Few things affect me the way child abuse does. Because I know that shine,
the wonderment that fills a child, I cannot understand the need or want
by anyone to put that fire out.
And yet, it happens.
The woman in me wants to scream, to make someone pay. Yet,
the poet in me (the person) in me wants to know the rest because there is
always a 'rest'....a place where the story began.
It is rare that someone just becomes an abuser, anymore than someone is
just born evil. More often than not, they were abused...and before
that, their parents were abused. It is much the same as with bigotry.
Most bigots reign from a long line of bigots.
It doesn't excuse the sin, but it helps us to know (society to know) what
happened. We're often quick to judge without at least attempting to understand.
As a counselor with addicts, it's not unusual to see habits and tendencies
passed from one generation to another.
Although it always within our power (free will) to make choices, some are
harder to make because we are brainwashed to believe something else is
normal....that something else is true.
I want to make sure that you understand - I'm not condoning abuse at all (of any kind),
nor would I ever. But as a person who believes in a life beyond this, I realize that I can never ask
God to forgive something that I couldn't find a way to forgive.
And the only way for me to get to forgiveness is for me to understand
(or at least know) where it started....long before the end we witness. Two wrongs
don't make a right, but in so many cases, there are many more victims.........
go to sleep
and I will watch
for you
'lest the monsters come
invisible from shadows
cast of love
and could not know
that agony
would borrow from
out past...
Thank you for this story of love and betrayal...
I am reviewing on behalf of the June 2011 Rising Star Shining Brighter competition. Thank you
so much for your heart-wrenching entry. Good luck, my friend.
I'm not sure what I was expecting. The start had a serene feel to it, that of floating, and
I imagined Jonathan Living Seagull surfing the clouds....
....and then, as with all peaceful serene moments, man has to ruin them....
I enjoyed this immensely, despite the momentary adjustment of emotion.
for moments far away
I floated carelessly
between the bluest cloud
and further still
I'd never say
wings were given me
somewhere else to be
ten thousand lifetimes gone
for I was waiting on
these wings
I am reviewing on behalf of the June 2011 Rising Star Shining Brighter competition. Thank you
so much for your delightful and uplifting entry. Good luck, my friend.
I suspect we've all had those moments - those times when we felt tiny -
when we realized just how petty we are with our little complaints and our little concerns.
As a citizen of the United States, I have to remind myself that I was born with
advantages that most in the world never know. I've never been hungry or without a home.
I've never had to beg for food or dodge bullets, and although I find more than enough
reason to complain, it's another right I sometimes take for granted - the right
to complain.
I think sometimes we learn by living, by growing and watching. We come to understand the
sun by enduring the storm. Sometimes, the worst thing to happen to us becomes the best
thing to happen to us. For only then do we allow ourselves the quiet moment when we
realize what fortunes we enjoy....
were not for this
times recounted blessings
barefoot walking in the streets
darkness fell too soon
I made not choice
for these another prayer I give
the barn's burned down
now I see the moon
Honest, intimate and compelling! Sometimes our best work comes as we reveal the worst of our
hearts. Thank you for sharing.
I truly believe that God gave us sight - to find what we are looking for.
If we are looking for bad, well.......
there's plenty to see.
But if we're looking through the eyes of love,
we see joy, and we see hope.
We see the wisdom of His words
when we were commanded first to LOVE!
Always, there will be sorrow,
but always there will be joy. Would we recognize
the beauty of one without knowing the agony of the other?
As you well know, when we listen expecting to hear,
we will hear.
When we, as a people, are ready to understand,
He will give us understanding.
But always, He gives us love.
Let us not waste it.
Exceptional work, Ken.
I am reviewing for the May competitions for Rising Star Shining Brigher and Circle of Light Winner. On
behalf of the Circle of Sisters, I thank you for these lovely words, and for the gift that is your
understanding.
Much Love,
Bobbie
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