Showing posts with label Poem of the Week. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poem of the Week. Show all posts

Friday, August 1, 2014

A Letter to My Muse

Photo: Kathy VanDeventer All-free-download.com

I am listening, waiting,
for you to whisper in my ear.
Sing to me your song,
of wordless meaning 
that creates life with paper and pen.

Speak to me, evasive spirit!
I anticipate our next encounter,
that I might find answers
for questions left on the last page
we wrote together.

I am selfish, demanding
You devote your time to me.
You are timeless though,
and so much of mine is devoted
to other mundane daily rituals.

Tell me, what can I do?
I begin these tasks at your beckon,
And you leave me at your whim,
How do I finish...

(See what I mean?)

I wrote that one awhile ago, but it seemed appropriate for today.  Tonight, and hopefully over the weekend, I'll be working on the Fore Shadows, and the first of the stories supporting Isiterra - my next series.  (It will be posted by next Friday.)  Maybe there will be another post here in there somewhere.  Until then, back to my other mundane daily rituals :)

I hope you're having a beautiful day!
Roari

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Sometimes you just have to listen.


This one is for the woman I met in the bookstore yesterday.  A book triggered her grief, and she needed someone to listen.  I'm glad I was there.

To K-
The sadness was plain in your eyes.
I wondered, "What causes the tears she cries?"
Weary wells, windows of your soul,
They poured it all out.
A stranger, I might walk away,
The choice to stay was just as simple.
Could I not lend my ear? 
You didn't expect me to listen,
Much less respond, sharing in kind.
But, I had to.  Someone did.
You needed a tether to the world,
And I let my own fall away,
That afternoon, I needed to hear what you needed to say.
I didn't have the answers you sought to find,
But, I hope it gave you some small comfort,
Knowing I am just as unknowing.


One thing I've learned about grieving, everyone does it their own way, in their own time.  She thanked me as we parted, for taking the time to listen, but I should be thanking her.  It was a reminder of what is important - how we treat those around us.  We share this world together, for the little time we have on it.  Small acts of kindness cost nothing, and are more rewarding than you think.  When others have shown me kindness, I appreciated it more than they probably know.  I do believe things happen for a reason, even if we never understand why in this life.     

K-, this rose is for your mother.  I hope you and I meet again one day.  Even more, I hope your heart finds peace.


I hope you all have a beautiful day!
Roari

Monday, June 16, 2014

The Weight of Time

The Weight of Time

The weight of Time 

presses against my shoulder,
urging me forward, 
on, and on,
toward what end,
I could never imagine,
I only know Time will not wait.


I started that as a post on a poetry blog last May.  I may or may not finish it.  Maybe it is finished.  I don't think so though...   


I was feeling this pressure of time slipping away, like I was missing out on my kid's childhoods, always saying "maybe next year," knowing there are only precious few of those years before they are grown and living their own lives.  (And that I would never finish writing a book.)  We were fortunate at that time to be in a position where I could leave my job to stay home, so I did.  


There is still the pressure of time.  Getting to school.  Getting homework done.  Filling in the holes the dog digs. Editing the sequel to The Shadow Watcher.  It's a different kind of weight, one I don't mind carrying.  Speaking of editing, I'm going to get back to it now...


Enough rambling for one night.  I hope yours is beautiful!


Roari  

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Innocence

"Innocence" - Roari Benjamin

And there it was, glittering in the afternoon sun,
A forgotten jewel of memory
Floating above the schoolyard field,
Where the children - running and laughing -
Unlocked it unwittingly with their unknown magic.
To reach out, to take it in hand, would be too much,
Pain, knowing there is no path by which to return.
To try to make them understand,
Would tarnish their lens to look back in time.
It is better they know not the treasure they hold,
The infinite possibilities that may unfold,
For, in that, is the beauty of it all.


(I was inspired spending the afternoon with my daughter's class for "Water Day."  Oh, the memories it brought back...)