Purple sage
creates a stage
as evening settles slow.
The lighter air,
with scents so sweet,
makes me begin to glow.
What burned so hot,
has moved along,
and I can catch my breath.
I find I need
a place to be,
where flower’s blossom
opens wide
embraced by eyes that know.
I settle down,
to be at peace
and find my joy
complete,
as night exhales
and drapes my heart,
with promised hope
‘neath starry arch
and so I rest with you.
Author – Bill Tidsbury
As I walk midst dusty streets,
I hear the stories of defeat. I watch the eyes of those who fear. I sense the rage that suffocates. A force denies my offered song – I feel the blow – and still I walk.
There is a thin facade that beautifies like some veneer, it covers boiling torrents of despair, and cloaks it so that smiles can greet a dim lit world – in my heart lies something deep that weeps.
To live as braced against the fury wild, can seem a grace and yet it tires. The grief that leaks out on the ground, gets soaked in blood from ones who’ve drowned – and still life sings.
I stop to feel and enter in. Trust is a force that grants surcease. A desperate soul can rest assured that love is actually quite absurd – it wears a crown of thorns and bleeds alone.
This pain is not a gift that’s shared. It’s venom deep with caustic greed. This poisoned, wretched awful rot must be absorbed to open life in death’s dark door – and breathe again.
The scarring can seem drained of life. A thousand cuts can never heal. The voices all invite to die – except the one that offers life. A whisper that feels just like breeze – assures I’m not alone.
Yet something more, I walk in faith. I trust the heart of love that opens grace and breaks the sword of violent hate and caresses new a heart once torn that lives again.
And so I dance down dusty streets.
I look in eyes that seem so sweet. The echo of a laugh that’s bold, has found a home – we’re not alone. Hope lives and rises high on wings that swell with anthem’s tone.
Author – Bill Tidsbury
Waves beat against the shore.
Seas cresting, foam and roar.
I, adrift upon the deep,
can simply sleep.
Tide rises and then it falls.
As tide ebbs, the waters pool.
I wander between land and sea
searching, groping, seeking me.
Sand burns as sun shines down.
Wind shifts, then sand is blown.
I, dried out by the heat,
can sometimes weep.
Shore is kissed by foaming bliss.
Water anchors drifting sands.
I refreshed by hope’s allure
can rest assured.
Author – Bill Tidsbury
Waiting – can be good,
until I get stuck and can’t move!
Patience – is fine
unless I have chained myself to despair.
Hoping – is a light,
unless it keeps me from changing my present.
Enduring – is priceless,
unless I’ve forgotten where I am going.
Action – can kill,
unless it flows from being.
Leaping – is disaster,
unless I’ve seen where to land.
Dreaming – is irrelevant,
unless it flows from destiny.
Achieving – is empty,
until I find where i belong.
Author – Bill Tidsbury
What is, just seems to fly
when “was” is what I see.
“It “was” just going to be…”
“I “was” so happy then.”
The eye that grasps a hold of “was”
soon steps upon the “I” in “is”.
It overlooks the darkest days
and crushes present
‘neath lies veiled sneer.
The present is a little raw.
It’s form is fresh –
the butterfly has not yet flown!
But eyes that only see in retrograde
can never grasp the hope
from change that kisses joy.
Author – Bill Tidsbury
Drifting – in the light –
flowing in the ease that breathes.
What’s smooth
breaks the rough –
such gentle absolution!
What’s unknown
subsumes and integrates
what cries aloud
in such a state of fright.
The weight of hope
gives birth –
who could’ve known –
kisses with infinity
could be so practical.
Author – Bill Tidsbury
To some, its pure to slash at being ,
and frame a world where all are crying.
They look within and find a darkness
that roils and foams – an acid brew.
They look without and see the hatred,
confirming fear that darkness wins.
But I can see through tear drop’s gleam,
perceiving song amidst the din.
To some it seems like liquid lightening,
to hurl their anger, to kill the rage.
They look at blood that drips with venom,
that tears the soul creating dread.
They feel the terror of violence spreading
and sometimes wish they could be dead.
But I in peace caress the bleeding,
inspiring love’s creative being.
To some it seems like effort wasted,
to give, when no one gives a shit.
They spurn with pity those who hope-
whispering grace instead of rage.
They see that water vanishes quickly
when simply poured on desert sand.
But I with faith can see the future
where green shoots rise to kiss my face.
Author – Bill Tidsbury
Dusty hands, fingers hardened by broken shards,
a man bends to once again sink his hands in rubble
-seeking to live.
Eyes, that long sense gave up seeking hope,
look at me with weary weightiness, as if asking
– “What do you see?”
One question breaks the gloom of isolating solitude.
Grace’s caress splashes the shores of endless despair
– sprouts in a desert!
Together breathing air, yet, living in different worlds.
Spirit joins common DNA, defining my neighbour
– whose destiny yearns!
Believing beyond imprisoning chains, invokes courage.
What “is” can not be left to wither away – desiccated.
Hope waters the dust!
Author – Bill Tidsbury
I don’t have many answers –
but questions flow through me
as I look at life that grows chaotically!
I am surprised by story’s bite
as memories tumble forth,
but then amazed by hearts that show
they somehow move in spite of fright.
And so, it’s hard to understand
why hurt and pain cut like a knife.
I am astounded how hearts flare wide –
the smallest hint that trust is real
can open flood gates door!
And I can freeze, gripped by perception’s power
when others norms define my lack.
But then I am captivated by children’s hearts
where trust takes bloom,
in spite of deep wound’s poisonous crap;
and so undone by fragile hope
in soulful eyes that won’t be stopped.
Betrayal’s face can still surprise
when what I see, is my familiar face,
staring back with eyes that clash with me.
Amazement grips me when I see
how easy it is to be trapped instead of free!
Discomfort swells when’er I see
how easy it is for me to join in prejudice
and feel it is the way to be.
Then puzzled by how difficult it is
to say the words ”Will you help me?!”
You see, It’s easy to forget that I need grace
and can not live without its fresh embrace.
Surprised,
I startle when my Daddy God shows up –
and he does so frequently –
yet always unexpectedly!
Something wells within when Spirit’s grace
wraps this broken soul in silk
and comfort’s balm calls forth new shoots
as garden’s desiccated frame blooms new.
Author – Bill Tidsbury
Joy, does not sing alone.
Laughter’s tears can never sting.
Hope is not a mountain peak.
Zeal can never sleep in the rear.
Peace is never just a pond.
Patience has no watch to mind.
Trust has no escape to plan.
Mercy has no axe to grind.
Sorrow, never flows uphill.
Fear is never going to lend.
Love doesn’t kill and then disown.
Tender never cuts to the bone.
Bold is not the apologetic one.
Good does not seek to ravage weak.
Kind is not in it for the gain.
Grace cannot dissimulate.
Author – Bill Tidsbury
joyfullybeyondwords 