Thoughtful Thursday-J.R.R. Tolkien

Tolkien

“I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair

I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see

For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green

I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know

But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door”
J.R.R. Tolkien

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Dance With Me in Springtime

I’d wake from a nap at the start of an early Spring shower

Shoes off I’d run for the screen door

Just to stand out in the middle of it

You’d scratch your head and wonder how you could have waited so long to live with me

You’d realize that even though I needed you

You needed me even more

The dog and I would continue dancing and singing to our own tune

Out in the rain

Splashing in the mud

There I’d be

The city girl bathed in springtime

Breathless and full of spirit

Yes you’d again wonder why you waited so long to live with me

As I swayed and sang I’d wonder the same thing

But then I’d look at you standing on the back porch

And my apprehension would dissolve

I’d crook my finger to tell you to come to me

And you would

Without reservation

And with all of your heart

To dance with me in Springtime

The Darling Buds of May

Darling buds of May

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Sonnet 18-Shakespeare

I stood outside with a purple dog leash wrapped around my left wrist. I patiently waited for the dog to finish feasting on the fresh crop of green grass that I was sure he was going to pee on. My mind wandered back to last spring and how I had missed out on getting the chance to watch the barren trees bud and begin to sprout leaves.  It was also impossible for me to even see my favorite flower the lilac, bloom. I missed their radiant scent permeating the air around me.  I missed walking barefoot, branch cutters in hand and cutting off as many branches as my arms could hold. I missed stealing them from other people’s yards and placing them in vases all over my kitchen and living room. Oh how I missed my favorite season, the one of rebirth. 

While Eddie continued his inspection of the yard, I looked above my head at the branches and saw the darling buds. It wasnt May yet, but I was so thankful for the unseasonably warm weather we’d had and the early burgeoning of said buds. The green, brown, red and gray of them too. I reached up pulled the branch closer to my face and took in the scent of new and dirty life. 

To my right and  down the drive, there are lilac bushes. I won’t get to see them bloom again this summer, because of another ankle surgery that will leave me housebound. But at least I get to see the darling buds of May, only they are out in April. It seems that God is giving me back my favorite season only a little at a time. Maybe it’s His way of making sure I don’t take it for granted ever again. 

For now I will love the scent of spring and the buds of new life. I can’t say that this is the beginning of life for me or if it is the end. All I can say is that it is spring and I will rejoice in it. Dear Reader, go outside, and smell the scent of spring. Revel, in the light and life of newness. Revel, in this thing we call life. 

Amen. 

Revelations and Other Surprises

Revelation

By: Jaded Lemur

There is a revelation,
Emanating from these tired bones;
A signal that pours out,
Waiting to be received by you.
Certain fears come along
And try their best to ruin all that may be,
But they exist to be overcome.
The means to which all the dreams are born
Reside in your touch.
Within the aspects of growing faith,
All points converge towards you.
So many shapes,
Contours,
Angles,
All create the perfection that is you.
As I lay here,
I feel your spirit resting against mine,
And I cry for the joy you are.
Every cell,
Living and dead,
Is but a concrete abstraction
Of what I need,
And I am content with
Exposing myself completely
Into your element
And be consumed by
Your world.

If you’ve been a follower/reader of my blog you know that a few years back I spent my Sundays working at a dog grooming salon. I had the pleasure of meeting many talented people. Not being a shy one, I made it a point of speaking to everyone I worked with. One of the quiet ones was Jaded Lemur (not his real name, but close enough). From our early conversations I could tell he was an introvert. Until, we began chatting about ferrets. His eyes would light up and his face would become animated. And I could swear, I even saw the hint of a smile on his often sullen face.

Cages

By: Jaded Lemur

I look to find a solution
In breaking this spell on my heart.
Wishing to be this grand fulfillment
That only really satisfies my needs,
And ruins others.
This hope of a future with someone so ideal for me,
Yet,
Can never happen.
How I would instantly marry her
Without a second of hesitation.
This urge to free her is strong,
But is it allowing her to go in another cage?
All I want is clarity.
And her.
The ramifications consume my thoughts
And creates a sorrow that presses upon my heart.
I love her, but can never love her.
So I press onward,
Alone in a world that expects me to be.
I lay awake,
Dreaming dreams of a heart fulfilled,
And the smile illuminating from her soul.

Friendships with my grooming crew flourished, as did the one with Jaded. While we joked about sex, dirty dogs and animal droppings, he joined right in with our nonsense. I even called him Jack Skellington because of a pair of pants that he often wore to work. They were black with white stripes, and fit snugly on his lithe frame. Unfortunately I left my favorite job and people before I learned that Jaded was a talented writer. Imagine my surprise when he started posting his poetry on Facebook this week.

Empty Space

By: Jaded Lemur

A sudden realization,
Born from a shared moment of joy,
Awakened in my heart the lost feeling of love.
There was no purposeful intent,
Just a deep connection of shared souls.
Time spent with you solidifies the ideal life
I’ve been missing since conception,
And I impatiently wait for your interactions.

It pains me to see you struggle.
To suffer.
To deal with so much that is beneath you:
A contractual obligation to rejection.
Oh, how I would fight for you!
Defend you!
Sacrifice all of myself for you!
Support you in all the ways needed and forgotten.
I would let you flourish
Like the magnificent beauty you are,
And not languish in despair;
Rotting the days away.

My heart appreciates everything that is you
And accepts all that you are.
The remainder of my life is yours to have,
Though it saddens me you’ve missed so much already.
If your heart could be free to absorb this passion
That craves for your slightest touch,
I know your present and future would be revitalized,
And a glory lost or never felt would consume us
As we epitomize the idea of Love.
I hold in my arms,
This empty space,
Waiting for you to enter.
I only fear it will never be filled.

These are only a sampling of his talents. I’m hoping Jaded Lemur will allow me to share more. Maybe he’ll even let me collaborate with him. I’m so thankful he started posting his work, and that I got to share it with all of you.

Happy Wednesday.

Love,

A Passionate Poet that Found A Kindred Spirit Named Jaded Lemur

(Giggle)

A Scrap of Paper

paperWe carry scraps of paper with us wherever we go. In our purses, pockets, and wallets. The receipts, notebooks or envelopes capture the cascade of thoughts before they can escape our psyche and fade into oblivion. They become our sacred scrolls, and chronicle every day life.  A bit of chicken scratch could become a novel. Or something even more profound. The solving of a philosophical argument that has been brewing for thousands of years.

Maybe it’s a bit of poetry that strikes us. An errant rain drop, a spider building its web or the sound of a distant train whistle could leave us breathless. Grappling for a cocktail napkin and the bartender’s pen in a crowded bar during Happy Hour on Friday night.

We catch these blips of the mind and put pen to paper. Sometimes, the words that come never cease. What we thought would take us a few moments to pen, takes us hours to complete. By the time we are finished we are shaking with emotion and usually exhausted.

Sometimes, the story can be summed up in a sentence. Or 100 words. It doesn’t really matter the word count though does it? As long as one person is affected by the piece, the effort to catch that thought was worth it.

Inspiration has hit me at a Starbucks. A wedding. A funeral. On my drive home. Hell, even in my car waiting at a toll booth on I-76 while watching a couple argue in the car behind me. I’ve even trapped ideas in the notes app on my iPhone.

I like that the mundane inspires me. And I also dig that first draft of this post was written on the back of my grocery list this morning. I was waiting on my Adam Boy to finish his shift at Starbucks. I heard him bantering with his work mates. It made me smile. And made me write my thoughts down.

About writing. About inspiration. And ultimately about my love of chicken scratch on a scrap of paper.

The Mermaid

mermaid

Inspired by Kelli Rose Fugate

Someday, I’ll write like Tori Amos.
Or me.
Or Bukowski.
Or Rumi.
Or not.
Maybe I’ll learn to shut up.
But probably not.
Love the poet in me.
The girl I wish I was.
The woman I am.
The nurturer.
The one that wants to please.
Love and understand me completely.
Or don’t.
My free spirit will always wander.
Explore.
Connect.
Maybe I am a mermaid.
Longing to swim with dolphins.
But maybe, just maybe I want to be held and loved.
Maybe, loving me is that simple.

But what if I’m a mermaid?

In these jeans of yours with her name still on it
Hey, but I don’t care
‘Cause sometimes
I said sometimes I hear my voice
I hear my voice
I hear my voice
And it’s been here
Silent all these years

I’ve been here
Silent all these years
Silent all these
Silent all these years…

Walk Through my Door

Walk through my door

Heart on your sleeve

Smile on your face

Take my hand

Lead me to my bed

Stand above me

Remove your clothes

Unveil my body next

Feast your eyes upon me

Drape your body over mine

Cover my mouth with yours

And adore me

I will adore you

Fill me with your fire

I’ll speak to you in tongues

As we press on to oblivion

A Garden Planted in Her Name

Wildflowers

The flower offered of itself, And eloquently spoke
Of Gods, In languages of rainbows
Perfumes, And secret silence…

~Phillip Pulfrey, from Love, Abstraction and other Speculations~

Wildflowers bloom and perfume a sunny afternoon.

Picnic blanket spread over freshly mowed grass.

Lovers lie next to each other.

A ring of flowers adorns her hair.

He reaches for her, touches her cheek.

She rolls over, kisses his lips.

Passion awakens with each caress.

They make love by the garden he planted in her name.

He climaxes into her, and relaxes.

She drapes a purple bloom around his ear and chortles.

He kisses her breast, looks at her and grins.

There is a spirit in her eyes, the likes of which he’s never known.

He doesn’t ever want to stop touching her.

Without a word, she promises he never has to.