Willow poems The Journey & beyond

The Journey
 
The journey is the living
with the stars to light my way
the love is meant for giving
for giving it all away
the smiles were never meant to be kept
but instead to be generously shared
and the tears are to be wept
for the soul so plainly bared
the moon waxes and wanes as ever
with the ebb and the flow of the tide
eternity stretches without sever
with solitude at my side

and the rains of spring come falling
gently waking the land
another season of the journey calling
life extends its hand
Willow
 

January 03
 
This poem was written by Zigzee… to whom words have always come quite easily
 
 

Fairy Tales (one of my old poems, found it in a notebook)

Once upon a time I believed in Santa Claus;
My life’s ambition? To become an elf.
Mother’s sister’s son said, "You’re stupid;
no such thing."  Silly me.
A giver who never receives?
So what about God?  I cry.  6 year-old cynic.
 
Once upon a time I thought I could walk on clouds.
Science points out that this dream is futile.  Silly girl.
What about shooting for the stars?  No, not her.
She dreams too much, too high, too far.
Stay on the ground; find your place.
Boys will be boys, no, boys can be boys.
Silly girl, tears over nothing, but it’s okay; she’s pretty.
 
Once upon a time, I believed in true love–
Oh, the stuff in fairy tales, rescued by that one man.
The assholes line up.
He treats you like a child,
Yet you are such a good mother to him.
 
Will you ever learn, silly girl?
I’m talking to you, YOU.
Stand up.
I found me.
I’m listening.
I stand.
 
I skip over the clouds to get to my star and wave goodbye to Santa on the way; I talked to God, she said, "Go far and don’t look in the mirror today.  If you find a good man, give him your hand, but don’t give yourself away."

 
 
 
Ewe
The clock of life is wound but once
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop
At late or early hour.
Now is the only time you own.
Live, love, toil with a will.
Place no faith in time.
For the clock may soon be still.
March 22 7:05 AM
Thanks for posting,my friend!
 

 

Aviator

Flight is freedom in its purest form,
To dance wit the clouds which follow a storm;
 
To roll and glide , to wheel and spin,
To feel the joy that swells within;
 
To leave the earth with its troubles and fly,
And know the warmth of clear spring sky;
 
then back to earth at the end of a day,
Released from the tensions, which melted away.
 
Should my end come while i am in flight’,
whether brightest day or darkest night;
 
Spare me your pity and shrug off the pain,
Secure in he knowledge that i’d do it again;
 
For each of us is creaed to die,
And within me i know,
I was orn to fly

May 03 5:44 AM
(http://aviator29.spaces.live.com/)

 
 
 
 

 

steve

DReAMs…………..What makes them…what takes them from a moment of an REM unto a life left wondering it’s merit…I have screamed of love and death in the same frame…been soaked by sweat that I have yet to make any kind of logic to…I have dreamed of me and you ..too, but without the pleasure of treasures held in image…..last night I dreamed of a frontier place where Wyatt and Doc may be playing dangerous games as they tame each others lust for historic meaning in the dust of a faro game  lost to the shame of ol’ Kate Elder and consumptive behavior as I chocked for a breath that made perfect the imperfect of slumbers strange ways…Oh but I miss the days that never were or ..are…..Don’t you think and call for love and loss………….do you think  of them…at all? 

April 16 7:54 AM
(http://saltynutz4u.spaces.live.com/)

  •  

    steve

    ………….The Blues never lose as many souls as it claims. Once you have it ,it can breath you into a world unlike any known..chill you like death to the bone. Try our best to go from it, run as fast as you can…At the end of the race,it says; here I am. It’s maybe not such a bad break as we take it to be …Maybe it’s for those strong enough to carry the worlds misery…something or someone has a broken heart or tinged spirit every minute of the day….where does it go when it just goes away? someone else for the monkey ride, if it’s you my friend best hold on tight. The blues we know ’bout ain’t  got no 4 piece downbeat in your heart retreat, it’s not that pleasent, is it? Medicate  and hurry up and wait until it’s finished up with you…then someone else can maybe do what I can’t…figure out why the blues never lose as many as it claims..it.is the most alone feeling than A house with no phone…because it don’t ring anyway.

    March 26 4:29 AM
    (http://saltynutz4u.spaces.live.com/)

  •  
     
    Tear in my Beer song attempt #1
     
     I am walkin back this dusty lane
    Like I’ve done a thousand times
    my heart is full of wild notions
    and my head is full of rhymes
     
    I keep hearin the words repeating
    Don’t waste what life ya’ve been given,
    coz there’s a great big difference between
    just existing…and livin’
     
    Somewhere between settled and old age
    the wind started singin to me
    and the long buried thoughts surfaced
    A restless soul gotta be free…
     
    So take that soul right now girl,
    turn it loose on this life ya’ve been given
    coz there’s a great big differece between
    just existing …and livin’
     
    this timid heart has always been grounded
    but there’s such a big world to see
    some things are changless, without lookin up
    I know the stars are shinin’ down on me…
     
    So girl, go and dance in the starlight,
    and know heaven in this life ya’ve been given
    coz there’s a great big difference between
    just existing…and livin…
    Willow
     
     
    Scatterbrained
     
    Sometimes I think I’m slippin’
    don’t know where I’m meant to be
    life becomes so damned confusing
    a constant test for me
    voices from 16 directions
    calling out to me
    so if I seem scatterbrained
    can you just understand
    I never stop trying
    just doing the best I can
    everyday is something different
    even though it starts the same
    "this is life" "this is real"
    not some game
    and it doesn’t last forever
    tho when you’re young it seems that way
    if I seem scatterbrained
    can you just understand
    I never stop trying
    to hold everybody’s hand
    everybody wants something
    everybody far and near
    everbody has an agenda
    towards which they steer
    so don’t you look away
    don’t you turn a deaf ear
    and if I seem scatterbrained
    can you jut understand
    I never stop trying
    to do the best I can
    I’m towing the line real hard
    to keep  a smile on every face
    can I do this for you and that for you
    hell yea, I know my place
    and I never look in the mirror
    at the girl running the race
    so if I seem scatterbrained
    can you just understand
    I’m being crushed by the weight
    of unreasonable demands
    there is this to do
    and that face to wear
    I don’t like, can you change
    the length of your hair
    did you say what I told you to
    are you going somewhere?
    I swear…
    If I seem scatterbrained
    it substitutes for being alive
    its just another way
    for a person to survive
    Wiilow
     
    Tear in my beer song attempt #2
     
    Come dream with me…
    or is it just memory
    of another time and another place
    you will hear me say
    it was a wonderful day
    that I recall…when I remember your face…
     
    We were full of luck
    and love, starstruck
    and never knew what tomorrow might bring
    you were handsome, quite fair
    life had nary a care
    how we made each other’s hearts sing
     
    Six years…of time
    somehow we stepped out of rhyme
    and you continued searching for what was already here
    and the love was buried deep
    under bitterness, to keep
    pain from surfacing over the years
     
     
    A friend saw you drinking
    said you’d never stopped thinking
    of what you left behind in the dust
    she told you that I was fine
    had aged like a good wine
    except I never again learned how to trust
     
    you said you were wrong
    and that nights were so long
    when memories  haunt you, memories of my smile
    all the sweet days worth livin’
    had already been given
    to me, and now gone for quite a while
     
    all I can say is "move on"
    the time for "us" is gone
    and never will return, it is the past 
    "we" had our chance
    "we" danced our dance
    but the sweet music was never meant to last
     
    so cry your tears
    as I  cried for years
    for a love that never knew its time
    we can never return
    to the scene of the burn
    once we have stepped out of rhyme
     
    you are to me
    a sweet memory
    that wraps its way to the sadness of our end
    so cry your tears
    and drink your beers
    coz we ‘ain’t’ ever goin’ back there again
    Willow

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    About Teresa Cypher

    I live with my husband in a humble house in the middle of a tall stand of hardwoods, bordered by soybean and corn fields, in western Pennsylvania. Mother of three adult children and "Grammie" to one sweet little girl, I revel in family gatherings and celebrations. My husband and I care for the gardens on our property--our little corner of heaven, have a glass of wine at sunset, and like to watch the stars come out. Currently working in QC and Development for a Bio-technology Company that produces green, agricultural products. I came into the world a creator of stories. Having been born into a litter, the 7th of 8 children, in a farming family, I have spent most of my life trying to be an individual. My dreams took me there. From the time I was a little girl, I was a thinker, spending any time I could find to be alone--the bastion of undisturbed thoughts, dreaming of other worlds and of fairy-tale love. My mind never shut off-- through the years when thoughts allowed me to escape the everyday world of farm life, to the daydreams while I was raising children and being the cook, the baker, the candlestick maker,and the taxi driver-- all while working full time. It took until middle age for me to realize that my meandering mind was writing stories! Once I sat down and started typing, it took 2 months to write my first book. My biggest challenge at first was getting my fingers to type fast enough to keep up with my mind. My daughter bought me a small digital recorder so I could save my thoughts until my fingers could catch up. The story that I wrote, Across The Night Sky ,was years in the making, and timed well...after I had experienced real life and the joys and heartaches it brings. I think that time gave me a well-spring of experiences from which to merge fairy-tale love with the cynicism adult life creates--while never losing sight of the beautiful and wonderful that love is. Writing is my passion...this incredible discovery in mid life that often keeps me up till the wee hours of the morning. I am so very fortunate to have the opportunity to devote my time to something that brings me such joy.
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    14 Responses to Willow poems The Journey & beyond

    1. MICHAEL says:

      Willow, this entry is beautiful is it your work??? ….. Oh, before I forget great Avator!

    2. Willow says:

      yep, my friend; it is mine. It is odd, when I write, I lose all objectivity. This one was nearly not posted at all. I considered keeping it as a draft with all of the other drafts I have that are plainly unworthy to be shared.  Ya just never know…  and I thank you for the compliment MPI…  🙂

    3. ClowderMom says:

      Hello Willow! 
      Just visiting friends\’ spaces to say I hope you have a Happy St. Patrick\’s Day!  I have an RSS feed so I don\’t miss any of your writing – I really enjoy reading your perspective on life!
      May the saddest day of your future be no worseThan the happiest day of your past.
      Always remember to forgetThe things that made you sad.But never forget to rememberThe things that made you glad.
      >^^<
      ClowderMom
      ~Rae

    4. Linda says:

      I like it too Willow!  And I like Chowder Mom\’s comments as well!

    5. Ewe says:

      The clock of life is wound but onceAnd no man has the powerTo tell just when the hands will stopAt late or early hour.Now is the only time you own.Live, love, toil with a will.Place no faith in time.For the clock may soon be still.

    6. Ewe says:

      The clock of life is wound but onceAnd no man has the powerTo tell just when the hands will stopAt late or early hour.Now is the only time you own.Live, love, toil with a will.Place no faith in time.For the clock may soon be still.

    7. Steve says:

      ………….The Blues never lose as many souls as it claims. Once you have it ,it can breath you into a world unlike any known..chill you like death to the bone. Try our best to go from it, run as fast as you can…At the end of the race,it says; here I am. It\’s maybe not such a bad break as we take it to be …Maybe it\’s for those strong enough to carry the worlds misery…something or someone has a broken heart or tinged spirit every minute of the day….where does it go when it just goes away? someone else for the monkey ride, if it\’s you my friend best hold on tight. The blues we know \’bout ain\’t  got no 4 piece downbeat in your heart retreat, it\’s not that pleasent, is it? Medicate  and hurry up and wait until it\’s finished up with you…then someone else can maybe do what I can\’t…figure out why the blues never lose as many as it claims..it.is the most alone feeling than A house with no phone…because it don\’t ring anyway.

    8. Steve says:

      DReAMs…………..What makes them…what takes them from a moment of an REM unto a life left wondering it\’s merit…I have screamed of love and death in the same frame…been soaked by sweat that I have yet to make any kind of logic to…I have dreamed of me and you ..too, but without the pleasure of treasures held in image…..last night I dreamed of a frontier place where Wyatt and Doc may be playing dangerous games as they tame each others lust for historic meaning in the dust of a faro game  lost to the shame of ol\’ Kate Elder and consumptive behavior as I chocked for a breath that made perfect the imperfect of slumbers strange ways…Oh but I miss the days that never were or ..are…..Don\’t you think and call for love and loss………….do you think  of them…at all? 

    9. imran says:

      Flight is freedom in its purest form,
      To dance wit the clouds which follow a storm;
       
      To roll and glide , to wheel and spin,
      To feel the joy that swells within;
       
      To leave the earth with its troubles and fly,
      And know the warmth of clear spring sky;
       
      then back to earth at the end of a day,
      Released from the tensions, which melted away.
       
      Should my end come while i am in flight\’,
      whether brightest day or darkest night;
       
      Spare me your pity and shrug off the pain,
      Secure in he knowledge that i\’d do it again;
       
      For each of us is creaed to die,
      And within me i know,
      I was orn to fly

    10. Steve says:

      What happened to me …and ewe? What on earth is wrong with me and ewe? Is it because we just didn\’t fit the view of what they say is important? Is it because our souls were to blue for most of you? When we tried to explain it you all just shamed us…. So we were ignored or dismissed by all of ewe…I say God Bless that what made us so different than you…Even when ewe left me I didn\’t go far…Oh well, I\’ll miss him…what about…….ewe?

    11. Willow says:

      I don\’t know Steve.. I just do not know what to say. perhaps he needed a break. We all need to take one from time to time.  I reckon that we are all so different and yet so very much the same. We all just have a different way of viewing our own souls… I hope that Ewe just takes a little time off and finds his way back to his online friends. I suppose that he is searching (like all of us) and just chose to search in a different place.  Yes, steve, I will miss him… but I will carry hope and optimism that he will return to us.  🙂

    12. kate says:

      Random Sightings
      The rainbow colors You paint in the skies
      You paint in every part of our lives
      From the silver-lined gray clouds on which children make wishes…
      Help us see the sum of Your riches
      The green of growth comes at all phases of life,
      The stench of the day reminds us of the world, in which we live,
      But the flower blossoms come
      when we need a reminder
      of the sweet smelling fragrance of Your joy.
      The dawn and the dusk reverse the patterns of colors
      Golden yellow, Tangerine, Orange, Rust, Brown on dark clouds
      Pale dust blue skies change to cobalt in a  moment
      As the stars start to appear, seemingly one by one
      In an order only God knows

    13. Eric says:

        Hey, I\’ m a loser in Cleveland.  Would you write?
      Eric Olson 

    14. rob says:

      Hi Willow, i popped by and read your texas blogs the other day and forgot to leave you a comment(sooooooooooooo unlike me) so i poppe back here and was going to leave you a poem "insomni style" but after reading all the beautifully written poems, i decided not dirty this place up with a lymerick 🙂

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