Tell me who will tell me where to go before the bell tolls,
And what angel will spread his tender wings in spring
To bring me back to you long after this sad song is sung,
When lying together will no more mean trying to love,
But tying our hearts together never denying affection
In an unending satisfaction in celestial fields of felicity,
As we so supernally grow into one another for eternity . . .
Ah! Tell me who will tell me what to do to bring me back to you
Awakening to the new day with new possibilities and always hope
In your company, Beloved, as you give each moment greater scope,
Shot through with meaning, even if this man cannot see what it is;
Nevertheless, you love me with an everlasting love that never fails,
And so I rejoice in your presence, even in pain that seems to gain
An upper hand, but you have tied our band so that I am fully yours,
Now and forever, so this suffering, too, shall pass away in your day,
Which is dawning even now and promises no end . . . so let it be!
I could never imagine some greater hell on earth
To test all of my worth than having rest and sleep
Kept out of reach, but this too shall teach and pass
Alas, my body is racked with pain making insane
What was wholly taken for granted for all of my life,
And it cuts like a knife, deep and hard for this bard
And do I cry for mercy now? Yes, as I humbly bow
To the only Power that can face my body’s rebellion
And overcome some sweet day I do hope and pray
So much time seems to have passed and yet not long,
For it is only months that I have been sore plagued,
Gnashing my teeth, anxiety crashing in on me, I see
But it feels like an eternity, this my curse of the flesh
Maybe; maybe not. It startled me somewhat to learn that I’ve actually been blogging on WordPress for six years! Whoa! That’s quite awhile, to be sure, and my life has definitely changed over the past half-decade.
As I told someone last year ~ at the time a fellow blogger ~ don’t look at the numbers or you’re bound to get discouraged. Well, that’s not always true, because I know of some fellow-bloggers who’ve actually scored a big hit in the Wide World of Blog just within two or three months of blogging. . . But, then, I dare say there are other challenges, concerns and reasons for discouragement when your still-rather-young blog is a big hit, too.
Mine was not, and I won’t dare to say it is even now; it took me well over three years to hit 200+ followers but, then, I wasn’t really trying to ramp up my blog to hundreds upon hundreds of followers, either. For me, blogging was (and still largely is) cathartic, so I was writing openly and publicly to heal. Yes, that’s right; even though I wasn’t, for the most part, addressing personal issues . . . for the first three years or so.
There was a period of time — how long, I don’t remember — when I stopped blogging, and that was a bad mistake. Little did I realize, until I started blogging again, just how important blogging was/is for my mental, emotional, and spiritual health, which all, in turn, affect my physical health. Who would’ve thought???
Inspiration ended my desertion; it was the beginning of the “Sloughheart Series,” which did, in a creatively indirect way, address deeply personal issues. “Sloughheart” never became popular, mind you, but my entire perspective on blogging changed. No longer was it simply cathartic; it was challenging, as well. This is when I noticed my numbers (yes, I looked) going up just a tad. This is when I also nudged over 200 followers.
But, you see, this is when blogging became fun! I was having a real blast in blogging, yet at the same time it also became more serious. Does that sound contradictory? Believe me when I say, you can engage yourself in something rather serious and still have loads of fun. I really didn’t know this until I set about the “Sloughtheart Series.” In some ways, the Reverend Joy Brighterday saved me. Honestly.
Well, that’s not all that surprising. I purposely built her up to be the Christ-figure, even giving her the middle name of Immanuella, meaning “God with us.” She spoke to me, strange as it may sound. What was caught deep, down in the recesses of my soul came up, out and through Joy Brighterday, so that I began to hear my innermost self speaking in this central character. Eventually, I realized that to greater or lesser degrees, I was speaking to myself in and through all of the various characters.
Eventually all endeavours come to an end, and so for the “Sloughheart Series.” After this, I began searching through old poetry and felt inspired to revamp some of those old pieces, thus giving them new (and better) life. This more than at any previous time was when my blog started picking up new followers and scoring more “likes” and interactive commenting.
When poetic inspiration really grabbed hold of me and I began writing entirely new pieces, the numbers began climbing exponentially. (And this included an engaging mytho-poetic series that was both challenging and fun.) Well, not to belabor the point, but why am I saying all this? I would like to think that, perhaps, I’m helping someone . . . another fellow-blogger, maybe; encouraging while passing down some learned-wisdom.
Yes, of course, everyone cares to some extent about how well they’re doing — or, I dare say, at least most people — so, too, for me. However, I truly believe it is when blogging is, first of all, a passion as well as fun and, at the very least, healthy (if not healing, as well) that one can look for “success.” Even then, however, you should not look at your own success over and against that of other bloggers or you most surely will become discouraged. Why? Because you can always find someone, or some other blog, that looks and sounds and feels more “successful” than your own.
I wish I could say that it’s been a happy six years, but I cannot. This is not due to blogging here at noblethemes, though; it’s simply been some extraordinarily rough years, actually beginning around 2010, just before I started blogging. Now, finally, I believe I’m coming around the corner, so to speak, and feeling (and doing) much, much better . . . for which I am eternally grateful. And so I can say, with as much confidence as any mortal can, that this may be the conclusion of this blog-article, but . . . it is not the end.
Note: The original version of this article was first published in January 2016.
An unseen hand turns the pages of time
And ages fly by but the sky still remains,
And does the range of humanity change?
Time, it seems, has been a poor teacher,
And history, too, an ill-sought preacher;
Thus the same lessons are taught
And oh-so very quickly forgotten
By unruly pupils who never do graduate
But so contemptuously self-congratulate
For achievements that grow cold
As their age grows old with time
As that unseen hand turns another page,
And for all our rage, we pass as shadows
Into the frightful blight of historic night,
But the sky still remains and gives rain
To wash away the stain of our humanity
. . .
An unseen hand turns the pages of time,
Page after page, age upon age upon age
Is life but only the blade of grass that passes so quickly?
Or is there an invaluable worth from the day of birth?
Pages turn with age and the old sage reads every line,
And has what is written been smitten with lies or love,
Or more likely both upon torn pages since he was born;
And doubtless there have been tears through the years,
And smiles and laughter along the miles of pilgrimage,
But perhaps he sees in his time an image of villeinage;
Ah! But is life more than borrowed time in rented space?
Has his place been marked only by the chime of clock?
And when cock crows on that final morning,
Shall it be a warm welcome or dire warning?
Will an eternal sun rise as an heavenly prize,
Or will that bright light shine as an unwelcome surprise?
Is life but only the blade of grass that passes so quickly?
Or is there an invaluable worth from the day of birth?
To be lived fully and freely rather than in chains of pain?
What does the author write on pages for the sage to read?
Indeed, what is his life worth from the first day of birth?
Note: Originally published in November 2016, now republished for the consideration and enjoyment of new reader-followers. Blessings to one and all!
Before you, this is not what I thought I would become,
As I once was numb, but now I march to your drumbeat
In rhythm with your heart in every part in the love art
Painted on my soul, filling every hole, making me whole
Because you stole my affection away that glorious day
And now I stay so very close to you, so very close to me,
Which all who look can see as I belong to you
And sing my new song on this long highway,
And you always say to me, ‘I love you now and forever,’
Which makes me tremble at your passion now known
As I am shown more and more amorous ways each day,
And now I am who I am, yet have only begun to become
What I will be in you, with you in me for everyone to see
No . . .
Before you, this is not what I thought I would become,
As I once was numb, but now I march to your drumbeat;
Yes, once I was numb, now I gladly march to your drum
If you live long enough
You’ll have some scars,
From the near and far,
From inside the home
And from the outside,
Where strangers meet
And greet and eat you!
But then you will learn
To walk miles of trials
And burn all the trash
At every turn each day
Along the way and say,
‘Hello light and dark,
Sun, moon and stars!
Shine on all my scars,
So bright in my sight!
After all, I’m full alive
In this world beehive!’
And so there will be . . .
Scars and Stars
Note: Previously published in August 2016. Hope you enjoy! Blessings to one and all!
So silently slip into peace and rest,
For the best of Life is yet to come
Some sure and certain, unending day,
Some say; home…
Can you see across the lush, rolling green hills
On far horizon, shimmering lake of serendipity,
Where plays barely audible symphony of reality?
Beautiful sound and imagery…
Pound of your heart keeps rhythm and rhyme
With angelic serenity where rests your
Soul identity, and with no brevity of life;
Font of plenty…
Healing
Note: First published in January 2016
There is peace this day in a new lease on life,
As I look out my window and the way is clear
Even underneath dreary skies and I so weary;
Cold rains will come but my soul is not glum
As I hear the drumbeat of my own heart alive
With the rhythm of life with no strife this day
And so I stay awhile looking out upon nature
Without failure to welcome her timelessness
And the righteousness of her fluctuating gifts;
Yes, I am alive to thrive, not merely to survive
And this truth does not escape my own mind
As a kind of quiet revelation of the revolution
Of each morning I awaken without mourning,
And so I am thankful for the peace of this day
As I look out my window and the way is clear
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