I ache for quiet comfort in the fields of yesterday
I tense up at the terror times where once I made my bed
I see the happy witness to a world making it's way
Yet the truth be told it wasn't as bad as the memory here today
We tend to backpaddle the past with an ache for twice the emotion
Twice the pain, twice the love and twice wicked devotion
We miss the little details each day along the way
That made our hopes and our fears what we are today.
this is a lot to think about...how we seek that comfort, so true, of the familiar and there it is--fields of yesterday this is one of your special ones. cheers
Susan
Great and beautiful as the old memories,
on how it was, One can never recapture
the true beauty of wonderful yesteryears
Those moments were meant to be treasured
I truly enjoyed your Write
Interesting words tonight as I read them a second time Susan I wondered at your melancholy and why this poem was not your usual up beat passionate write, then I reread for a third time and thought how beautiful even in its sadness the passion is there and shines through.
Between memories and visions we exist, sometimes aching, other times not, but always aware that we are the chosing link between them. What matters to us now, may later (appear to) be of less importance and the choices we made will show us who we were, how close or how far removed from the path toward our destiny we have been. The free will we have, will become an illusion if we fail to listen to the whisper of intuition. For our paths are determined and disagreement with that is often the result of being unable to rid ourselves of the temptations of the illusion. The talents we have been blessed with are a reference to our ability to free ourselves from illusion and the limitations that hinder us a burden we must shed in order to make full use of our talents. The Light will guide us always, even when we do not ask for guidance. I enjoyed reading your ponderings and never saw a thing that would prevent destiny from leading us to where we belong.
Your regret borders on anger, and jutifiably so. I feel every emotion you've dtailed so well. It appears that values have fallen so low, there is almost no interest in working for the peace and quiet of learning from elders... or books (If it don't git on TV or the radio, we don't bother with it, syndrome.) It may take a world wide conflagration, but something has got to slow down the world as it is today! An old fashioned - Bill
Contemplative and thoughtfully expressed, Susan. Indeed, sometimes we hurry to repeat our mistakes in grandiose fashion, rather than to learn from them and move forwards. Like being stuck in the reed beds for a time. Mind you, I really don't mind that too much at present... your picture reminds me of my coastal ones here, and they are just so tranquil and beautiful. Sleep-inducing, even... like the temptation to re-offend! I like the condensedness of this notwithstanding the broad scope of its brush. TY K xx
(Richard M. Feldman) Ever since I was a young boy, the only thing I wanted to be was a cowboy. I wanted to own and work on a real ranch, with cattle and horses. Especially horses.
While I never became a cowboy, considering everything I have done
TRUE STORY. Bella survived an abusive powerbroker father with organized crime ties, a drug-addicted mother and a physically/sexually abusive brother. Shocking & inspirational. When she couldn't cry, she tattooed a crying angel to cry for her.
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Ron
wise and insightful poetry, Susan ...
Great and beautiful as the old memories,
on how it was, One can never recapture
the true beauty of wonderful yesteryears
Those moments were meant to be treasured
I truly enjoyed your Write
Fee
RAge
Peace Belle ...
Richard Lloyd Cederberg
Paul;-)
Love Tinka
Gods Speed!
Michael
Love,
CJ
That made our hopes and our fears what we are today.
How true, so very often, Susan.
Love,
Taylor xo
Well-done, Susan!!!
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o)