love

Google Photos Reminds Me in Backup

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summer-reflection-timothy-easton

~of Joey

 

Four years ago you were sitting
in a white Porsche Boxster with me
taking pictures, recording videos
of the handsome boy who stole my heart.

Three years ago I was driving
an Audi convertible around and wondering
what bar you were getting drunk in, with whom,
taking selfies for Facebook in a smile masking truth.

Two years ago you were gone
back to the ground that grew you
and I was 30 pounds lighter and looked old
and anorexic in the photo I sent to my daughter.

One year ago the newest girlfriend
found me on Facebook, called and messaged,
sent videos of the drama and pain and I knew
that my grieving was easing under the light of truth.

Today, I woke up dreaming of the warm loving arms
of a man whose heart is Sacred and Holy
and I decided after coffee and writing poems,
it was time to erase your pictures from my phone.

in the air of bliss

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I read Hafiz — No —-
I absorb Hafiz
as I have absorbed Rilke, Rumi, Gibran
as I have soaked up Christian Scripture,
The Upanishads, The Bhagavad Gita, The Sun.

You — singing to me
asking me to dance
for years now — forever.
Yes — are you ready?

Do you think I am finally
brave enough to take your hand
step away from the ground —
There is no longer earth beneath my feet
anyway. I have been falling in you
for years —
Do you think I am
finally?

Yes. I would love to dance with you.
Forever in your embrace
groundless and free.
Movement unfolding
in the air of bliss.

 

~September 2019, Myrtle Beach, SC

A Thousand Muses

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crop woman and abstract illustrations on floor

~for the full moon love

There were a thousand Muses through the years —
Some were friends and others foes. Some were
lovers and past crushes and possible future flames.
Each vibration–reaction strumming a chord that said
Create, Capture, Hold an Image, a Moment — But
None of them sparked my heart like you, Beautiful Soul.

There were a thousand Muses through the years —
Some were real in essence and vision and others
a fanciful need, illusion, wish, desire, imprint.
Each color-shadow sparking a fire that said
Begat, Build, Frame the Idea, the Hour — But
None of them saturated my skin like you, Beautiful Soul.

There were a thousand Muses through the years —
Some were Birds of Paradise singing melodies and
some were Piranhas circling deep with hunger.
Each living-dying another brick in the journey road
traveling me through the cities, towns, fields – But
None of them flew me to the heights of your sky, Beautiful Soul.

There were a thousand Muses through the years —
But I need no more Muses to inspire or create, motivate
now that I have found my poetry in the light of your eyes
and the deep glowing fire of loves light in your Beautiful Soul.

 

 

~Photo by Retha Ferguson on Pexels.com

THIS is how my heart

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heart shaped red neon signage

I walk the oceans edge
delight in the appearance
of birds landing beside me
to frolic-play
walk with me awhile —

Sacred gift of
this unspoken communion
pure bliss of being
free together —
and as they lift-float skyward
there is no edge
of absence-regret-loss
only joy residual from
the experience
of the knowing
in who they are.

THIS
is how my heart
desires to love you —
not with fear
or holding on
or with clinging
jealous hands —
but with unity-freedom
a oneness that remains true
even after your leaving.

 

~Photo by Designecologist on Pexels.com

A New Song

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bare trees against sky during sunset

~for Mickey 12/2019

 

The old man tells me of his friend (and I am his friend)
as we drive home from dinner.  He falls to weeping
over the buddy he sang with in the church quartet
all those many years ago.

His friend died young, aged 48, and he stopped
singing then (at 72 he sings to me as we drive).
The pain of sad loss trembles from him, the words
and images fall into my lap for safe keeping — this
is a heart opening into hearing as I whisper the normal
“I’m sorry” and “I know it still hurts” because that is what
one does —

But I want say — “I am listening” and “I will put this
in a poem” Your heart — THIS big with love —
“I will save it forever for you in a poem.” But
I only whisper the normal solaces one gives,
watch his tears fall and listen as he shivers —
His frail voice singing a song about a Lighthouse
as I take his aged hand in mine
across the center console of the car.

There —
In the night drive home after dinner
in the shimmer and melody on air
and the spring of tears trembling down —

The ghost of his friend rides with us
on through the dark night
as hands both living and dead
reach out and touch —

And a poem is planted, unfurls —
Grows into a new song.

 

~Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

that look in my eyes

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close up of fish over black background

Yes, you saw it.
I know the spark —
that inquisitive glimmer
transcended the space
between us.

I like your eyes –
such deep honest orbs.
And I won’t try
to hide mine or
the flowing currents
they hold.

It was pain
of recognition
acceptance
that little place
of knowing –
Servitude:
yes, Lord —
I understand –

Because, as you say,
as I have said so often,
it IS about living it,
isn’t it? And so –

what you saw
in the churning depths
was the letting go
of wish-desire-want
the acceptance of
and surrender to
Truth.

After all, Truth
is what we’ve both
been excavating
and chasing
all of our lives.

God’s voice, the inner
demand for obedience,
is a heavy hand
weighted-hard —

In some moments.
Truth
arrives in a way
that pains the heart
but nourishes the soul.

 

~Photo by Chevanon Photography on Pexels.com

 

 

 

seeing another seeker with empty hands

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brown sand

8~24~2019

 

Memory: Bright-eyed boy telling me about Shark’s teeth —
I was above and beyond the mire of irrationality
then — as Seger says      Deadlines & Commitments
What to leave in, what to leave out.

Reality: There are dozens of us     hundreds
walking the shoreline of Myrtle
each day —

You will know us by our eyes
cast down, scanning the sand
looking for Grace reflected
in an ebony shine.

We are a greedy and gracious lot
depending on our need in that hour.
Sometimes hoarding
because we need every syllable God whispers.
Sometimes generous
seeing another seeker with empty hands –
we smile and pass a treasure off –
Here, these are for you.
Handing the letters of God to others
because we are all seeking
words to ease the suffering
of all the questions
that convince us
there is any other answer
but ourselves

believing
there is an answer
floating somewhere
in the sand
to who we are –
why we love –
how we are here.

 

 

~Photo by Miri on Pexels.com

 

less afraid of the dark

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8~24~2019

Do you remember the nights
in dark moon absent hours
of deep crashing wave sounds?

You, with your bright flashlight
walking an impatient mile-a-minute
in front of me — always running —
while love-want-mothering-harlot
enveloped me in bliss and agony.

Duality — Loving a man-boy who
would never grow up. The letting go
ending every facet of my known world
(and I knew that truth then) Still — knew
the agony was my fight with God over
what was coming-inevitable-necessary.

I laughed and cried together as we
roamed the sand looking for treasure
on those deep warm summer nights,
saying goodbye to both of us in every step.
Your flashlight dimmer as you raced ahead
and as I followed, I knew I was becoming
less afraid of the dark.

I find shark’s teeth now
every time I visit the beach.
God and I, hand in hand, walking
together. He gives them to me —
a way of loving-forgiving
and remembering you.

 

 

~Photo by Lukas Rodriguez on Pexels.com

we love by degrees

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woman with red hair and blue eyes

~August 2019

 

We love by degrees
of shadow and light.

The old man
tells a fishing story
his eyes filling up
with sea mist.

The young man
touts the size of his dick,
the number of conquests
his eyes glittering triumph.

The old woman
remembers her wedding
his eyes warm with love
the children she grew
and gave wings.

The young girl
rushes to get ready
for a first date lost
in fantasy and breathless
heartbeat
eyes gleaming with
anticipation.

We love by degrees
of shadow and light.

Like the pupil in our eyes
expansion    contraction
measured entry
as the world spins
onward in time
our hearts of stone
holding fires

that we water out
or add wood to
depending on the day.

 

~Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

 

stand

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King Solomon asked God for Wisdom.
The boy David said how dare you speak thus
about My God,
picked up a rock and went to war.

The Queen of Sheba sent useless gold
to a King and then refused to forfeit her throne.
Bathsheba, with her innocent beauty,
a King and Kingdom overwhelmed.

Deborah got tired of waiting for a man
to do the work God needed done –
took up the Sword on her own.
Ruth was meek and holy and followed
Naomi where they were bound.

Stand up — King — Soldier!
Don’t fear this fierce Grace of God!
All you lose is the false “me” — do you See?

The Mother comes in many forms,
humbled and in tears as
Mary at the foot of the Cross,
in silk, shame, and scent as
Jezebel at the gate, or as
the whispered breath of Holy Spirit
a gentle breeze across the lake.

The Divine, sublime, all consuming
Fire of Self Discovery. The Feminine
Power, though disparaged and maligned,
burns deep in the Trinity.

So, step up
Cowboy — brace those pretty boots in the sand.
Sometimes you gotta trust God enough to Stand!