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

Together

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

Animate

My fingers

That

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

And

As only you can

May all that I do

Somehow

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,
B