Whispering into the Woods

When I whispered into the woods today,

into the peace,

into the quiet waiting,

poems escaped

and prayers took shape lifting themselves

far beyond the tallest trees,

and I realized I was filtering

through the sunlight and the shade.

We need both really

to understand

our own

heart language.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

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The Wings of Birds Soaring

Wordflow only holds onto the healing of poetry

as long as bitterness is cast away

spinning, descending

back to where it came from.

Our best work

lives with a heart running strong

like prayers on the wings

of birds soaring.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

As Dawn Speaks

As dawn speaks to the broken heart

so autumn speaks

to the heart

in love.

       

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

In Your Wings

Let it roar, let it rip

let loose, let it fly

let tear across the morning sky

your words discovering why

there’s poetry

in your wings.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, 2019, ancient skies

Note: From my archives.

A Piece of the Sun

Within the heart of our poetry

there is a light worth keeping,

a piece of the sun

to strengthen

and encourage.

    

Note: From my archives.

Writing and Image © Copyright 2017, 2019, ancient skies

Words Spoken

Well I received a notice the other day from wordpress saying I’ve been blogging for 5 years!!

Thank you again for all of your wonderful support here. I wish I could follow each one of you.

I don’t write out of some psychological need, and I certainly don’t write here to make money! Although it would be nice to have some books to sell. 

I write simply because the words live within me. They simply flow.

Here’s a poem for today:

Words living within not to be hidden

or tucked away

but meant to be spoken

or written

from the heart.

   

Poetry, Additional Writing and Top Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Words I’ve Been Carrying

I turn towards the light, spinning some words, singing a phrase

expecting the revelation, instead water falls on me

but I am cleansed mostly

fig leaves never hiding me

or the words I’ve been carrying for so long,

waiting to write. So I begin again….

We all have a story.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies