Tuesday, March 4, 2014

a more journal like entry

I had a nice walk Sat. meditative, slowing down time to just breathe. Which I so very much need from time to time. Clearing out clutter at home. Small steps, with big results. Reading poems [a nice surprise in the back of a book I'm reading] then writing my own. Some poets just "nudge" me to write. As if their writing stirs writings in me. "reminds my hands" to put words down that were there, I just didn't know it or forgot. I'm still trying to put to words what I might say over Lent. Finding that elusive line between sharing enough & too much. So my journey continues. As I am pulled in so many directions. I've got a lot of poems to look through. I swirl around tonight. I find myself turning from one thing to another. writing for this, poems, listening to songs [running the gambit. from the Beatles to King Crimson to Queen to Ryan Adams to Gungor to The Mars Volta]...like I'm turning an old dial on a radio. A friend gave inspiration to this poem... I don't know if it turned out the way I wanted. Sometimes my writing takes on a mind of it's own.

With The poet
I want my breath
To be in your rhythm
My heart
To beat in time
With yours
My voice
My words
To be harmonious
With all you’ve ever said
My eyes to see whatever you have
To show me
My ears to hear your voice
Even though
It comes from a thousand mouths
A millions different ways
In a million different places
Help my lens
To capture
The views you wish to bless me with
Saving memories of our time
My pen
To write out & let go
Of the poison I have kept for so long
To write rescues to others
To light the way
To you
My fingers
What I type
Might be
What ever you can dream up
Whatever you like
An escape route
A path
To a brighter day
An anchor
In a hurricane
A harbor
A stirring
To courage
As only you can
May all that I do
Help me
As wellby b.e. noll

perhaps I'm the victim of too many fastnachts today.
Well... I "shall take my leave of you now". I need to pull myself to a quieter place if I'm going to sleep at all tonight.

May His grace drip from your fingers,

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