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Impressions Too

Waltzing through this life, our steps take us nearly everywhere.
Traces linger, and impressions we make, may still be there.

Time passes, a billion thoughts separate now from actions past.
Do we take accountability for the traces left as time flew fast?

Have we reaped yet what it was we sowed in our ignorant ways?
Have we addressed the ones who still hang on those yesterdays? Continue reading

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I agree Lord Byron

There Is Pleasure In The Pathless Woods

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.
~ Lord Byron
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Oh if only I could speak so brilliantly and so beautifully. I can say though, that I do feel the same way.
Through me, this chord it does run, in every sense, I can feel
What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.

 

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Impending Night

1inawesomewonder

there’s a lump in my throat where a laugh used to be
did the good times get away, or is that just me?

there is ache where distant smiles war again to be recalled
are those dear memories real or have I forgotten them all?

ease of step and stride no longer accompany my gait
or is there a plan in place, or just some cruel fate?

up-turns always close to the corners of my mouth aren’t there
have those pleasantries vanished into the cold winter air?

free flowing thought seems hemmed in by barriers I cannot see
where is the joy that often wandered about, boundless and free?

the frame from where I peer closes in like dark of impending night
dare I ask my role in the stifling of that darling light?

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Mean What You Say II

Like each drop of water running through my favorite stream, your words to me matter

I find they are tossed conveniently away though, often, my heart in balance, left to shatter

 

 

Day after day I return to this stream, perfectly pristine, mine alone to enjoy and behold

The same way I hope that there’s value in the meanings to the words I have been told

 

 

There are ripples in brooks throughout this land I can see, the one I love, is the one I chose

So to, the choice to heed spoken words is mine, do I turn when words and actions oppose?

 

 

Drops unite to form a flow and that direction runs the same, for I see it myself everyday

Photos capture a thousand words, actions amount to far more, again, mean what you say

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Impending Night

there’s a lump in my throat where a laugh used to be
did the good times get away, or is that just me?

 

there is ache where distant smiles war again to be recalled
are those dear memories real or have I forgotten them all?

 

ease of step and stride no longer accompany my gait
or is there a plan in place, or just some cruel fate?

 

up-turns always close to the corners of my mouth aren’t there
have those pleasantries vanished into the cold winter air?

 

free flowing thought seems hemmed in by barriers I cannot see
where is the joy that often wandered about, boundless and free?

 

the frame from where I peer closes in like dark of impending night
dare I ask my role in the stifling of that darling light?

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Don’t Forget to Vote Today!

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