Morning light on the water gently awakens me, as the curtains move stirring my spirit,
shaping a poem. My Love moves closer, still sleeping
a soft sound of sheets and pillows,
and I love the way the sunlight rests
on her bare shoulder.
Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed
In our search for a quiet harbor where our hearts can rest,
we want more than just the unseen, perhaps simply
to know ourselves, or just know the quiet
we have always longed for
and then,
and then for sure
our strength will return.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2021, rivers renewed
Note: Based on an earlier work.
Our frames will carry the much greater love,
when our spirits are filled
with the quiet solace of peace,
and our bodies and minds
are rested.
Have a wonderful weekend!
Poetry and Image Copyright © 2020 ancient skies
Seagulls hover, floating on the wind mostly white wings,
dipped in black
ignoring the shadows of the coming storm
I turn to My Love and her eyes are closed,
as she whispers a prayer
and I realize, perhaps comprehend
the peace of the waves,
and the healing
of a blue sky
yet remaining…
Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies
When I write of the dark now, the enfolding, the pouring in of midnight, I’m not referring to evil, the seeking to destroy, the choking of our humanity, with talons extended,
or even of the darkness of our anointed narcissist, screaming so sadly of his insanity, supported by the prayers of some of the faithful, often confused, and sometimes worse…
no, I write of that dark comfort, stillness enfolding into us, like twilight wrapping us, holding us,
a silence of the heart…where we sometimes go, where stars live….still clinging to the night, watching over us,
over the deepest parts of us….causing even our scars to bow down, hoping for release,
like when birds awaken, praying, fighting sleep, to greet the dawn. It’s OK to go quiet during the rebirth of wings,
instead of leaving our spirits shredded, left in ruins. We don’t have to accept ourselves wearing a reality of dark wings trembling.
We do know the way, don’t we?
Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies
The comforting dark of August’s forest made it easy to slip
through to the world unseen,
and I was spirit, as if in a dream,
not of false rainbows but of peace,
an amazing depth
I had never known before,
where silence takes us
beyond bravery
as light flickers
through the trees.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
The darkness and coolness of the deep forest called to me today,
with streams and a river unending, my spirit went quiet,
listening to the bees and one stubborn woodpecker.
A tree stump became my chair as I was surrounded by the comfort of leaves….
I was even able to whisper,
a simple prayer.
Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies
Even when I’m folding my wings I’m very aware
of the wordflow waiting…
phrases seeking
another river,
another poem
from within my heart.
I’m grieving like many of you over the deadly racism in the United States.
Do we have a right to criticize other nations? It’s a sin really from our very beginning.
And I also grieve for how the far-right is ripping us apart. Caring more for their assault rifles than they do for people.
Closer to home my wife needs further treatments for cancer. The last round was not enough.
There will be more aggressive, more invasive treatments and that means more horrible side effects.
And we had a cousin die recently…..from cancer. This was the cousin that had the big family gatherings every year…
for Thanksgiving and Christmas. We’ve eaten at their home many times. He was in his forties, married with children.
I’ve shared these things because I’ve had the wind knocked out of me like I wrote in yesterday’s poem.
No, I don’t feel a need to stop blogging. I still have plenty of wordflow…….somewhere, but I’m grieving.
I just need some restoration, with my wings folded.
Poetry, Writing and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
Bluejays sang their most sacred songs in the highest branches of the tallest trees,
while the blue sky shifted and white clouds followed that rugged trail,
he ascended, heart full of burdens seeking that place, that place where God lived, or least
it seemed that way, to the top… on the largest of rocks, where everything could be seen,
that special place of a calmness where violence was always rejected, and light….could be tangibly felt.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
Every heartbreak knows it’s healer,
recognizing the wholeness
from the spiritflow within….
and we do find ourselves opening,
accepting the embrace.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
Rivers Renewed 