Turn once more ~a poem by Linda Willows

once more
from the dark,
let no cloud form
to shade,
that sweet light
which pours
and is made
of pure hue.

face the east,
hold your
close to
Call the winds
that protect,
summon all
of the

©2012 Linda Willows

Photograph by Ardo Inzhy

All The Tides’ Mist ~a poem by Linda Willows

Peace not leaving,
life receding.
Tides revealing,
hearts repealing.
Sands leave naked footprints stealing
vows to mark all time once printed
into fate, as if thus minted.

Peace not interrupted,
nor life corrupted
as some to pay some a dismal due.
Could the dawn have known the evening’s hue-
it would have held its’ breath for you.

Peace not leaving,
life receding.
All the tides
prepare to go.
Where they wander no one tells
but yonder dreams far place to fell
must capture the lost in such deep spell.

Peace not leaving,
life receding.
Come back, come forward, come life though.
Counting nothing, let all be.
Love finds the rhythm of the sea.
Float me with you; carry me too.
I’ll be light as mist dawning
dreaming tomorrow there again,
waking peace with you.

©2012 Linda Willows

Photograph by Piet Flour

“Songs that We Sang Before Time Took Its Hold” ~by Linda Willows

All have gone on ahead, and I am left here with me.
The ones that followed can’t find a passage to see.
That heart that reached in fell out far and strong
Forever, perhaps never- casting longing lifelong.

Songs that we sang before time took life’s hold
Come back to me, tearfully, in markings still bold.
I step to the tunes but get lost on past’s day.
None can come alive from yesterday’s way.

All have gone ahead and I am left here with me,
Breathing, heart beating, no chance to foresee.
Destiny runs through life’s path with such will;
Unsightly, heartbreaking, yet ours to love still.

Would that I ever might fathom the door
a portal, a calling that led me to more.
This a new heartbeat, one farther than mine
One born in the hope of God’s leading, His sign.

Here is the singular death of all past
the flowers have shed like the memory’s last…
Each with a mortal dream faded away,
Lost, gone and faded; with yet seedling’s bouquet.

©2012 Linda Willows