The Light Shines Through My Broken Places

Daybreak over Tofino Inlet

Kids, the prompt over at Real Toads Friday was to take inspiration from the music of Waylon Jennings, his song "I've Always Been Crazy", or the topic  Outlaw Country. I  am behind, as usual, and decided to further complicate things by trying to write a pantoum......the crazyness enters in when I look back at the wrong places I once looked, hoping to find love......and needing to repeat the lesson, till I finally "graduated" into single bliss some decades ago. 

Light shines through my brokenness in sweet relief .
All  my shattered dreams bore visions new -
Heart honed in fire, molded in pain and grief,
Unworthy lovers taught me what is true.

All my shattered dreams bore visions new -
fashioned from rubble, newly forged from pain,
unworthy lovers taught me what is true.
I rose from ashes,  was made new again.

Fashioned from rubble, newly forged from pain,
Love, my wandering soul began to teach.
I rose from  ashes,  was made new again,
Heart open wide, and Heaven within my reach.

My wandering soul did Love begin to teach,
Heart honed in fire, molded in pain and grief-
Heart open wide, and Heaven within my reach
Light shining through my brokenness in sweet relief .

Am adding a link to the Poetry Pantry at Poets United, as it is gray and rainy today and am too tired to look thru the archives. This is a brand new poem:) 

True North: a pantoum

google image

Ella's prompt at Poet's United's  Thursday Think Tank this week is: Compass - where is your true north? I've learned a thing or two about that through the years.

The premise is that we are our own True North. I tried this as a pantoum, for fun. That's just how crazy/busy I am!

When you are paddling the river of your life,

wondering which way is best to go,

listen to your heart; allow the wind

to carry you where you are meant to flow.

Wondering which way is best to go,

don't push the river. Let it carry you,

carry you where you are meant to flow.

Your own True North resides inside of you.

Don't push the river. Let it carry you.

Your inner guide will nudge the paddle's reach.

Your own True North resides inside of you.

We find it soon or slowly, each to each.

Your inner guide will nudge the paddle's reach,

though smoke and mirrors confuse us as we go.

We find it soon or slowly, each to each,

for even when we think we don't, we Know.

Though smoke and mirrors confuse us as we go,

listen to your heart-wisdom,  so rife,

for even when we think we don't, we Know,

when  paddling the river of our life.

(I know. I had to cheat on one line, to make it rhyme:)

The First Wives Club: a Pantoum

 Cool poster from Snow White and the Huntsman

The First Wives Club arrives at the wedding,
smiling grimly, their clothing black,
hearts all brittle, gay laughter shrill,
old dreams adrift, full of all they lack.


Smiling grimly, their clothing black,
they gather like ravens at the feast,
old dreams adrift, full of all they lack,
eyes darting hungrily, not just for roast beast.


They gather like ravens at the feast,
longing in secret for loves of their own,
eyes darting hungrily, not just for roast beast,
in view, fiercely gay,while in private they moan.


Longing in secret for loves of their own,
they flock together; no partners have they.
In view, fiercely gay, in private they moan.
It is hard for them always to go home alone.


They flock together; no partners have they,
hearts all brittle, gay laughter shrill.
It is hard for them always to go home alone.
The First Wives Club gathers, as it always will. 


This topic appeared randomly in my mind and I decided to try a pantoum with it......My sister and I shall be attending our cousin's wedding (age fifty) in early August. After a brief first early marriage, she waited a lifetime to find her one and only, and is now radiantly happy, living the life of her dreams.


I have been remembering my sister's wedding, some years back,  (she is single now), when my cousin and I and my daughter were there, all dressed in black and lined up winsomely, and how I dubbed us The First Wives Club. Life, as it has a way of doing, has re-shuffled the deck, and some of the players have switched places. I, however, remain stolidly single: no one has dared cross my moat for several centuries. They're smart enough to keep out of my way, no doubt. Hee Hee. As I have the heart of a romantic, I confess there are nights when it is hard to always be the one going home alone from these events. At least this time, my sister and I will travel back together to our waiting livestock! I shall, however, be wearing black!!

Wild Wolf of the Western Sea

[Joy at the beach - Pup jumping for a treat]

Your feet come galloping

through my dreams,

wild wolf of the sea

and the western wind.

Our souls rejoice

near the ocean's song,

where we explore,

where we belong.

In nightly visits

your wild eyes gleam,

your feet galloping

through my dreams.

*************************

and as a sort-of pantoum:

Your feet come galloping

through my dreams,

wild wolf of the sea

and the western wind.

Through my dreams

our souls rejoice,

in the westward wind,

near the ocean's song.

Our souls rejoice,

as we explore,

near the ocean's song,

where we belong.

As we explore,

in nightly dreams,

where we belong,

your wild eyes gleam.

In nightly visits,

wild wolf of the sea,

your feet come galloping

through my dreams.



Notes: Hmmmmm. I wrote this first version, then attempted to turn it into a pantoum, which it didn't want to do very easily. I will post both, and you can tell me which you prefer. I prefer the first version. I think my lines are too short here to be effective as a pantoum. Plus I had to fudge the last two lines to make it work.

Another Pantoum

[image from google]

I woke at dawn and sprang from bed,
the day's delights spread all before,
went to the  threshold,  flung it wide
and found a moon outside my door.


The day's delights spread all before,
I asked had it been left behind,
that moon I found outside my door,
as night tiptoed across the fields.

I asked had it been left behind,
or stayed, a silvery offering,
when night tiptoed across the fields,
to grace my day with all life yields.

It stayed, a silvery offering,
bearer of dreams  outside my door,
to grace my day with all life yields.
I could not ask for beauty more.

Bearer of  dreams  outside my door,
when I went to the threshold, flung it wide,
I could not ask for beauty more,
when I woke at dawn and crossed the floor.

[Again some liberties, on the last line, to better satisfy the rhyming pattern. Totally illegal.]

My First Pantoum

[image from aarp.org]



What is this grief
that lives, so light, within?
I cannot find a reason,
yet my daylight has turned dim.

Grief lives, so light, within,
I barely sense its presence,
yet my daylight has turned dim.
All is not right, within.

I barely sense grief's presence
wisping through my down-turned heart.
All is not right within.
I have no wisdom to impart.

Wisping through my down-turned heart,
are memories without a name,
I, lacking wisdom to impart,
nor understanding what to blame.

Memories without a name
I cannot find through veil so thin,
nor understanding what to blame.
What is this grief, so light, within?


Notes: I have been very intrigued by the pantoum form I have seen on some of the poetry sites. Especially Kerry O'Connor's pantoums at Skylover, and Marian's at runaway sentence, whose pantoums have a marvellous flow. I like the rhythm and the repetition of the lines. Since I have been a bit subdued of late, and my muse uninspired, I decided to set myself the task of writing one this morning, to see what would happen. I did manage one, of sorts, though I took some liberties. It is far from inspired, but at least I have written something. I would love to find some really lovely lines and try again. It could happen!