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traces of being Nov 2016


Pages stained with heart and soul

Indelible Fingerprints strewn in ink

Burning bridges like seasoned wood

Written words just go up in smoke



All heart’s ache have known words left unsaid

Ashes of what could have been scatter in the wind

A breaking heart's sigh, muted whispers bemoaned

A tipped over chalice of spilt milk


November 3rd, 2016
traces of being Nov 2016
The sky above them
     was painted
an intense silky black,
as if it were a bridge spanning
uncharted darkened rivers --
arching across unexplored
separate distant horizons
Casting an uncommon spell;
seizing hallowed heartbeats,
exhaling bated breaths

Two boundless souls
   collide unbidden,
like lightening splits
the unblushing silence
     deep within
Cleansing the darkest
hues of melancholy
with the gentle touch
     of velvet rain

For they had walked
the longest mile
in another's shoes,
unknowingly,
alone together
between the telling
     poesy lines

Swimming blindly
where  tempest
currents thrive untamed
Harvesting the bounty
of another soul’s
deepest ocean tides

Overflowing beyond
the heart’s hidden music
where the softest touch
of kindness abides
Plucked harp stings
rejoice in the harmony
uttering anthems of an
unspoken dawning light


wild is the wind ... November 1st, 2016
note: thank you for touching my soul through your gifted poetry
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1562449/touching-souls/

Listen To The Wind, It Talks
                   Listen To the Silence, It Speaks
                   Listen to Your Heart , It Knows
... Native American Proverb
traces of being Oct 2016
Wandering silently
though the wilderness woods,
far and away from the potholes
of well beaten pathways
The soft breeze slowly moves
the shadows cast in the moonlit night,
past the thorny bramble vines of time.
Wildlife paths illuminated by starlight
adorn the alluring wooded trail
Secluded pathways foraged by natural instinct,
ancestral prudence and intuition's guide

Each shadow drawn willingly
into a deeper enlightening journey
As if synchronicity united hearts
learning to speak minds
The depths of undaunting transparency
rendezvous with awakening breath
Looking back .., softly questioning
life withdrawn in discontent;
exhaling an unashamed freedom without regret
Lost in perpetual motion, found in heart
Separate souls illuminated by the moon
stood alone yearning for the touch
of healing light

Ardor of hope shines an inward light
as moonlight restlessly slumbers,
passion blushes in radiant colour
The night has a thousand coquettish eyes
shining on practical mysticism
The laughing owls of midnight
Echo allusions of crystal clear reverie
Stirred by swirling tempest breeze
showering down from high endeavors
where treetops  pierce the constellations
Wisps of the twilight sky unfurl stardust dewdrops
drunk by earth’s thirsting sod
Nocturnal Cricket’s rhythmus acoustical wings
very quietly chirping a bashful courting song

Laughter rings out,
blissfully released,
like the joy of a shameless child
Nature sways with a gentle motion
Her leafy arms groan and moan the silent toil
as she holds up the weight of the celestial unfoldment
Moonlight moves across the dappled shadows
budding love born beneath her branches.

Two shadows embrace as one
emerging rapturously
from the tantalizing wilderness oasis
Reborn as naked as the free
mesmerized by the enchanting forest's spell...
stepping in a bit deeper for an adult swim
under the enchanting allure of a full,
blossoming, hunter moon...
traces of being Oct 2016
Perched high upon burl wood roost
dangling feet swing upon
          mossy girthed heritage
                                       maple tree
Her majestic gnarled scaffold
flinches not from my nebulous gravity,
nor the weight of her unraveling
                                       golden autumn gown

Her lamentable achings  
felt in the voice
of the ripening chill
             within the campfire
                                        scented breeze
For I have climbed so blindly high,
the clinging brilliant yellow leaves
metamorphosing like these fragile paper wings,  
opening palms born to soar wild as the wind,
                                         to just let go and fly free

Waiting here patiently,
wistfully as destiny,
for the final edifying moment
                                          of fate’s unshacklement - - -;

the surrendering to,
      the moment of love set free,
               stolen by the wanton
                                         gypsy breeze


                                                        ­               *wild is the wind
Sunday morning― October 2016
...spontaneously hitting "save poem" without edit
traces of being Oct 2016
Looking for a silver lining
               every time
                          it turns out wrong

Weighing reasons to believe
               looking for an
                          un-lost heart to behold

Seeking a golden skeleton key
               that unlocks
                          the secret garden’s
                                 velvet gate

Feeling the deep ache
                of cold and lonely
                           on a golden autumn morn

Walk along the garden pathway
               follow me down
                           the wooded pensive trail

See the reflection in the wishing well
                looking wistfully back
                            unbidden eyes' do tell

Feeling never enough
               like a pearl-less oyster’s
                           empty shell

Tripped and fell another dawning
               trying to come in
                           out of the storm

The only silver lining
               betides the moment,
                            
                            ­sipping words

                            of hopeful waters

               from your well ...



*wild is the wind
"A wise man can see more from the bottom of a well
than a fool can from a mountain top ."
traces of being Oct 2016
silence is a telling voice
gentle hearts do hear 
 
with hush of bated breath,
as season’s end,
inner tides grow low

longing eyes whisper
in wordless tears
the passing of love
grown cold                                    

raindrops taste
like wistful tears,
without the ache

when your sky comes falling down ...**
                                                           ­                                        

 *wild is the wind
it's hard to say when you love someone
but it's harder to say you don't
when you discover someone loves you
for all that you are not
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