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Be the wheel
that's set to turn
The comfort in
the daily hurt
The flame that lights
not the one that burns
Be the lesson
that is learned

Be the hope
and not despair
The helping hands
that show you care
The pleasure ride
that takes you there
Be the truth
inside the dare

Be the answer
to the call
The very reason
for it all
The solid yes
to all the no's
Be the river
that freely flows

Be the kindness
that we need
The encouragement  
that sets us free
The do good
to the deed
Be all this
and all of these
Every age does create
its own poems and music
its voice shall not be silenced
deeply into the nature of things
it would not cease to dig-
conventions they blind
they suffocate the wit
rise, oh rise to raise your song
those who seek truth and justice
do not aim to do any wrong
today is the call to a new world
tomorrow shall belong
to the courageous and strong
the false edifices of the mindless throng
shall crumble.  This is not a revolution
but a logical and peaceful transition
the symbol of an age reborn
heralding in a long-awaited dawn.
 Jul 2018 Nancy E Tracy
ryn
There was no one...
So I spoke as if a secret
into the wind.

I told it,

“You may blow your skeptic tune.
Your quiet whistles of doubt.”

“Exhale if you must,
upon the countenance of her face.
Run your invisible fingers
through her hair...
Taste her lips like you would
the surface of the lake in the sun-shy morns.”

“Then you would dispel all disbelief.
You would take these words I say,
and know why confide in you.
You would know why I had fallen.
And you would know why
you would then be my messenger...”

“So that you could word the song
I could never sing.
You could caress her face
when my fingers could not.
You could kiss and fill her lungs
with all that she needs when I am gone.”


.
Losing my memory
Not my soul
Must continue to write poetry
Despite all conditions
Poetic verses make me whole

Balladries are meant for me
Triggering my memory
God's perfect gift
Meant to be
Imagery of poetry

Losing my memory
Not my soul
I need not worry
Let Our Heavenly Father
Have control
 Jul 2018 Nancy E Tracy
Poetic T
You looked at me father, weren't my
eyes the reflection of yours, did I not
     smile in glazed view at the words
misunderstood but still a vibration
of what I heard in the womb of mother.

Yet, just because I'm not of male,
                        but female without my choosing
you want me to be just a memory.
Like a conception of love was voided
                         at the moment of my birth.

Woven in a blanket, angers voiced echoed
              I felt the taste of the air linger in
distasted tears as mother picked me up.
            kissing my lips, her tears of
                        pain and regret I could taste.

But father had me now, I was in the cold
             I felt his love dissipate.
             Silence was his voice now.
Not even a gentle goodbye,
but like yesterdays newspaper discarded.

Tears cradled my face, not understanding
             why this cold night grasped at me
more lovingly than fathers last embrace.
My expressions silenced as I ran out of tears.

I heard a mumbled voice,
                           not of father or mother.
But a gentle one of age, more secure in
the visible definition that I was a girl.
Holding me tightly, I heard others words.
I wasn't alone any longer, but what was my fate.

My daddy, told me the tale of my birth,
           and the implications of what back
then seemed like weakness.
But I have shown the world, that no matter
your gender it still has equal worth.

The past is a scar that still hurts,
        Never knowing my true family,
if they could ever have been called that.
But this family, this gentleman and my
        my loving mother, kept me warm.

Now I'm older, old mistakes of culture
        and religion are melding with modern
society, no longer are girls left to fend alone.
We are seen through eyes of love and compassion.
Not through the eyes of an abandonment of love.
Tollite vobiscum verba, et convertimini ad Dominum

-Osee 14:3 1

Provide yourself with words, with magic words,
And like Old Väinämöinen 2 sing them
Into the air, the wild, clean air, those words
Sing all that’s Good and Beautiful and True

The Sampo 2 of your mind spins not out flour
Nor salt nor gold, but needful thoughts and songs
In words that sing and sail beyond the sun
And back into that Founding whence they came

Write, then, the Good, the Beautiful, the True
And let God write them back again to you



1 Osee / Hosea
2 The Kalevala
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
 Jul 2018 Nancy E Tracy
r
I found an old homesite
in the woods,
next to a church, or at least
what looked
like the remains of one

Rocks overgrown with weeds
and vines, a doorway
leading nowhere
in either direction, and

I think
I thought
I was maybe Christ

I think there were birds taking flight
from my open hands

The laughter of children
buried like bones
beneath
the terrible blue sky.
Let that butterfly
   land
            on
                  my
         Heart

It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything there
Well… other than the THUNDERCLAP
That was you closing the door

Let that butterfly
    land
                 on
                         my
                                    Heart

It’s been so long
So long since I felt butterflies there
Dancing so hard it made me feel sick

I miss that kind of sick…

Let that butterfly
   land
                      on
                                      my
    Heart

It’s been so long
Too long…

Let me hear the wind from its wings…
I hope they whisper Truth

Let one antenna brush up against my Heart…
To remind me that I can still feel

Let it see me…
I need to be seen

Don’t fly away
                                    little
                                                                                     butterfly
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