Showing posts with label freedom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label freedom. Show all posts

Saturday, October 26, 2019

Strength of the Butterfly

Image Source 

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 79
You would make my day if you
 come join us!


“Man must rise above the Earth – to the top of the atmosphere and beyond – for only thus will he fully understand the world in which he lives.”
Socrates 



I am the explorer reaching upward
but you are the one with wings

You do not need a space ship
 to reach further beyond your means
I study for a lifetime preparing
For my scheduled flight
You merely take a moment
And then sail the bluest skies.

Saturday, July 27, 2019

When Words are Truly Free

"One Day I'll Fly Away"  Photography by Hayley Richards

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 66
Come join us!



Some birds are poets and sing all summer. ~Henry David 

Once my words were caged
Strangled by silence
Like a shy child
They lingered close
In quiet spaces
Whispering in my ear
where no one else would hear
But with time they grew
And so did I
Old cages get rusty
but old birds still fly
now the silence is stifled by words
they reach far places
like migrating birds.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

Saturday, June 1, 2019

Souls & Horses

Photo by Tatiana from Pexels

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 58
Come join us!

Horses and children, I often think, have a lot of the good sense there is in the world.  ~Josephine Demott Robinson


Like ghosts we walk through miracles never knowing how close we come
For we cannot see what we do not believe
But in another life we were horses
Where no fences gated our hearts
Free to be what we truly were
We galloped far beyond what could be seen
Grazing truth all the while
And always hungry for more
Like a mighty wind our spirits pushed through
Making themselves known to all
For freedom does not linger on regret
Nor feed on darkness
It moves on gallantly in the light of day
and those willing to let go
Will dare to jump any fence that comes their way
But that was another life and time
The rising dust of a distant star
Here we walk through miracles never knowing how close we come
Ghosts cannot touch, but merely pass by in silence
And we cannot see what we do not believe.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

Saturday, May 25, 2019

As I Sit In My Living Room

"Protector" Photography by Susie Clevenger
To visit her wonderful photography blog click here.

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 57
Come join us!

"All gave some, 
 some gave all."
~Billy Ray Cyrus


We look back past the bullets ricochet
And our hearts see
Fear cloaked in the armor of bravery
You stepped out in harm’s way
Heart pounding louder than a bomb
But my eyes were spared the gruesome details
Sitting in my living room
My brother’s blood did not splatter
Upon my face
My legs still unshaken
 still intact
no throat can express it
thunder knows what it knows
and we can only wait for the lightening flash
some memories should be unremembered
but a soldier somewhere
packs for home
carrying all those memories
he brings with shrapnel
yet leaving behind a leg
he tells himself that he is lucky
and hopes someday he will believe it
for his fellow soldier
will be laid to rest
underneath clover grass
near the shade of concrete angels 
as I freely sit in my living room.


©Carrie Van Horn 2019

Sunday, May 5, 2019

Skid Marks



Linking with Poets United for lovely Magaly's Telling Tales: A Pantry of Prose Month #3 The subject is Phobias.  We can also choose to take an old poem and turn it into a story in 313 words or less. (Mine is 312.)
I hope you will join us!

Note:
This is mostly fiction, only a few details are true.  I took a morsel of what is and ran with it.  I hope you like it.

Photo by Artem Bali from Pexels


Some things we go through in life, leave a lasting mark, like a skid mark on the highway, serving as a constant reminder of what was and what will never be.  From the time I was a child, fear was fed to me like peanut butter and jelly.  It always did get stuck on the roof of my mouth, leaving a taste on my tongue that would not soon disappear.  Fear is like that, it sticks with you and can be hard to swallow and wash away.   I watched my mother and her mother before her suffer from the affliction of fear, and the hold that it can have on you when it is deep inside you.  

I have found freedom and fear do not co-exist in the same place.  If you hold fear, freedom is far from your reach indeed.  When I was 22 years old driving home with a friend from a dinner party, I hit a deer on a country road.  It all happened so fast.  A figure came moving in, my tires skidding on the pavement, and my car colliding with the gentlest of God’s creatures, ending up in a deep ravine. 

That is all I remember; the rest is a blur that crosses lines of the truth and what was never spoken.  I am still here, wishing I could go back and make it never happen.  So many times, I tried to drink away the memory of it, but unlike taking out a bullet in the wild west, the whiskey only made it hurt more deeply.

You see I am still here, but my friend, a wild eyed French major, wearing no seat belt is not.  Gregg was only 24 and had plans larger than life.  I have never gotten behind the wheel again.  It is through this, I came to better understand my mother.  

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

Monday, January 28, 2019

The Unspoken Words of a Fool

"In the Middle of Freedom"  by Isabel Mansfield

Image Source

Linking with The Sunday Muse for Muse # 40
Come join us!


The sharpest sorrows are those which remain locked within our own breasts.
 ~James Lendall Basford


Words do not die
 they wait in silence
as do the unspoken words of a fool
  they survive held captive
 like an abducted child
waiting in bated breath
 for a chance to escape
 yet never losing hope in the years that pass 
there are so many things I wish I had said to you
 I thought I would have the chance
 but time can be a nimble thief
  the chance has long since passed
songs on the radio send thoughts reeling
 like paper cranes in the air
 that will never make it very far
sentiments of hope and love
 lost down darkened halls
 so many feelings wishing
 for a way to be expressed
  perhaps that is why
I became a poet
to give expression
to all my captive thoughts
a million different ways
of saying.... I wish you were still here.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019


Sunday, July 29, 2018

It Is What It Is








Dream House by Jim Warren

Linking with The Sunday Muse for Muse # 13
Also linking with Poets United for Poetry Pantry
A lot of 13s going on here....hope that is a lucky sign not a bad one. LOL

Life is what we make it, always has been, always will be. ~Grandma Moses



~Sometimes my eyes are cactus near a flowing stream~


Life is like a dusty chandelier and the dimmer the setting

 the less you can see what can be done. 


~Sometimes my lips are bankrupt in a solemn fortress~


Life is like a triple scoop ice cream cone

and if you do not eat it earnestly while you can
it will melt all over and leave a big mess


~Sometimes my heart feels like just a spoon of pepto in a world of disease~


Life is like a crystal vase upon a table

it is meant to be filled with beautiful flowers not be empty on a shelf.


~Sometimes my feet are red wood trees in a fast moving blaze~


Life is like a tall rocky mountain

it is majestic and an inspiration to stand before yet also an utter struggle to climb.


~Sometimes my hands are frail like bent limbs on a dying tree~


Life is like an unbridled horse

that runs free out of our control
yet still we try to tame it.




Note:
I have spent many years not seeing what I should, not relishing what I could, not being all I could be,  and trying to control what was out of my hands. It seems some lessons do not come easy.  Gaining wisdom has been like taming an unbridled horse.  It is hard, and it is going to take some time.  I suppose life is meant to be a process of learning and growth.  If it were meant to be easy, it would be.  I just feel a bit weary sometimes.  I am a slow learner and I have the bunions to prove it.    I am in need of a true vacation, maybe a trip to the beach to just walk the shore, count my blessings, and pick up some sea shells along the way.   




Thursday, November 30, 2017

Open Door

Courtesy Google Images


Linking with Imaginary Gardens for The Tuesday Platform
Imagined by Sanaa




Freedom begins between the ears. ~Edward Abbey


A soul that is hungry
will search beyond built walls
longing for a freedom
that some never know
it is a journey that can be
like an African safari in the dark
but like most cherished treasures
its attainment has a cost
for hunting can make some
choose to pick up a gun
and it is a lifelong lesson
to learn
freedom was yours
before you
opened the door.


This was originally written for a writing prompt we did at our Word Crafter Meeting last week.  Click here to read Chrissa's beautiful and mysterious response to the prompt.

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Harvest of the Brave

image by Musin Yohan

Linking with Poetry Jam for Mary's prompt "Harvest Time"

Our battle-fields, safe in the keeping
Of Nature's kind, fostering care,
Are blooming, - our heroes are sleeping, -
And peace broods perennial there.
~John H. Jewett


We gather our fallen like crop in the field and then set them up in rows.
Those that bore the burden of fighting freedom's greatest foes.

They stood among the strongest and brave upon the land
and gave the greatest sacrifice for liberty of fellow man.
 
An offering of plenty that no civilian can give back
providing for generations the rights that only heroes grant.
 
 Now we reap the benefit of the harvest of the brave
so let us give the offering reverence and live a life that's great.


Wednesday, August 20, 2014

A Mighty Force

Yell Sound, Shetland, 2014, by R.A.D. Stainforth


 For what avail the plough or sail,

Or land or life, if freedom fail?

~Ralph Waldo Emerson




The grand escape of bondage's chains
 is carried by swift feet to a better place.

We untie the knots and cut what binds
 with bloody hands in record time.

Risking capture we press on brave
forging for freedom through wind and rain.

Freedom's hope is not a faint of heart force
that sails forward no matter how rough the course.

It has a message that whispers not
it yells of liberty and never stops.

For anything that stands in it's way
is risking downfall for freedom's sake.



The will to survive is a mighty force, so when our life and liberties are in danger all the courage our soul possesses carries us through to escape the hands of peril where they lay.  Like adrenaline increases our strength to lift a car off a mother's leg, our deep longing to breathe in the place we feel we belong empowers us to defy the odds before us.  When I saw this picture prompt provided by the one and only Stainforth, the first thing that popped into my head was the word escape.  You can view it as a wonderful vacation escape to the isles or fleeing to other shores from danger or the law.  However you look at it, the word escape holds a powerful meaning in our lives.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and this photo spoke to me one big one.

 

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

A Bigger Fish

Meal Beach, Burrs Island,Shetland by Robin Gosnall




The Mag #159


"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."  ~T.S. Eliot




Mankind is the hunter of new horizons, the seeker of something more
pushing to greater lands as does the waves unto the shore.
He moves on ever further as a hardy ship upon the sea
hoping for fulfillment yet longing to be set free.
Sometimes it is a journey beyond the outskirts of the furthest town
and others it is a sojourn inward to reach what's lost and make it found.
Like the surfer hunts the perfect wave and the fisherman a bigger fish
so does the human spirit search for something greater...a purpose within his fists.


Saturday, February 2, 2013

All That Can Be Saved


Google Images


"Dreams are excursions into the limbo of things, a semi-deliverance from the human prison."  ~Henri Amiel




This is the re-telling of a dream.  Not just any dream, but a dream that spoke to me like no other I have ever had.  You see I am an avid dreamer.  I always dream no matter how short the nap. There is a memory of walking another world while I sleep each and every time I am not awake in this one.  Remembering back to my dreams as a child, they were more often stressful or what one would call a nightmare most of the time.  That still holds true for me today.  Sometimes they are bizarre or inspiring, but the majority of the time they are just one big muddle of calamity.  From the time I was little I always would be trying to escape some kind of danger, and in that intense departure, I would at times be attempting to protect something else, when I was a kid it was the family dog; Pepi, a cantankerous little Chihuahua that my mother probably loved more than my brother and I.  I would scoop him up under my arm, and carry him to safety.  After I was a step mother at the raw age of 19 it would be my young step children.  All three of them would somehow be held within my arms as I found a way to fly with them high up away from danger.  Then there was my first and only child I have given birth to in this world, a little boy that has been rescued in my dreams and out of them more times than I could ever count.  As if I was Hercules, I could carry him and my other children all together within two arms and still escape in flight somewhere away from harm's way.  So it is not unusual that the dream I had on this particular night was about trying to escape.

First let me start by saying that being the child and mother of alcoholism and addiction, rescuing and escaping seem to be a great part of the pattern of my dysfunctional actions in the past trailing into a stumbling mess right up to the present.  That all being said, I will now tell you the dream:

 In my dream I was driving my car down a freeway I had never seen.  In my mind as I drove I remembered letting my son drive it the time before. As I was moving forward, suddenly a cop car was behind me shouting out of a bullhorn "PULL OVER THERE ARE DRUGS IN THAT CAR!"
I desperately tried to find an exit or road to pull over on, but there was none to be found in that strange highway in my dream.  So eventually I made the decision to just keep going.  I drove fast and faster until the police were nowhere in my rear view mirror and I finally ended up at a strange large mansion where there were many other people that were running from the law.  I entered quietly and did not completely speak to anyone there, but somehow understood their plight.  There was a tension there that hung hard like outlaws from old trees in the waist lands of the west.  We all knew what was ultimately coming; we all would have to face a certain prison. 

Like all dreaded scores that must eventually be settled, the time arrived like the thud of thunder after the lightening flash.  The only thing left to do was either hide in the building or escape and flee on foot.  The next thing I remember, I was about to exit the building almost like it was on fire, yet it was not.  Suddenly, I was no longer in my body, but hovering above the outside doorway at the exit of that strange mansion of fools.  What happened next is what I cannot forget.  As I gazed down from the air I actually saw myself as I am now walking out of the building, but I was not alone.  In one hand I had my granddaughter and in the other was another child, but not just any child.  It was me when I was a child holding onto my adult hand.  Staring down at what I like to call a vision, I realized something deep within myself.  What I saw before me was a glimpse of a message to my soul.  My granddaughter represented my future, and myself as a child my past.
I could save neither.  I could only save myself in the here and now.  Not by my own hands nor by running away from trouble, but by standing right where I am and letting God be God and not trying to do His work.
I am not the fixer of all wrongs, nor the saver of all souls, that is the works done by the grace of God.

 I cannot say that this revelation has miraculously changed my actions completely right at this time, but it has been weighing on my heart and mind day by day giving me a glimpse of hope in the miracle of recovery, my compulsion to smooth the rough waters and silence the roars of dysfunction are slowing down.  It is like the recovery quote: "change only happens when your pain of holding on becomes greater than the fear of letting go".  My need to hold everyone and flee for safety is becoming a weary task, I want to avoid, and the layers of denial have been removed piece by piece layer by layer like the peel of an onion or fruit ready to be utilized for its purpose.  Where once I had no sight for my hands and arms were covering my view afraid of the disarray that may stand before me.  Now I simply have my hands gently over my eyes with a slit at the iris like a child watching a scary movie...I am seeing and gaining more courage with time...it is just a slow  process.  I did not get to the place where I stand now all in one night, it happened over a long period of years of broken behavior that built a wall of denial a continent wide.  Walls like that cannot be assembled in a day, nor can they be completely torn down in one either.  Recovering from the past and getting healthier now, is a manner of growth that truly never ends.  It is an ongoing journey that as long as we are in this world never reaches a destination.  The longer I am in recovery the more I understand that it is a brutally honest undertaking that one has to be willing to embrace completely like two lovers truly in love. No holds barred, no stones unturned, everything must be brought out into the light of day raw, naked and real. So here I am awake in the light of day with arms wide open not grasping to save what I cannot, but willing to salvage what I can with the help and grace of God.


God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change
the courage to change the things I can
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Amen.



Thursday, March 1, 2012

Capturing Freedom


This week at Poetry Jam the prompt is to create and share a Anaphora poem.
An Anaphora is "the repetition of a word or expression several times within a clause or within a paragraph".
This is my attempt at one:


Freedom cannot be captured like a bird with tattered wing,
yet freedom can be embraced with voices that proudly sing.
Freedom will not be held down like a victim in the street,
yet freedom will lie comfortably where two hearts humbly meet.
Freedom is a nomad that never sits still in one place,
yet freedom is a placid pool unwavered by wind's change.
Freedom knows no boundaries, like barbed wire and skin's slice,
yet freedom has a grasp that pulls deep, like the moon does to the tide.

Monday, August 9, 2010

The Open Road



When the world closes in on me like elevator doors
and life's troubles send me to the basement floor
one cure that rescues my spirits back up
is not an elixir you pour in a cup
you cannot buy it and place on a shelf
no roadmap or guiede book can really help
it is simply the freedom of the open road
that clears my mind and sooths my soul
it can be sunny or stormy weather
and if the destination is grandkids thats even better
I don't need to go far you see... I just need time to think
so give me the car keys and some gasoline.





I know to some this may sound very environmentaly unfriendly, but if it helps your view on it; I do recycle. :-)

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Freedom Is A Room With A View


Silence and denial lay together like an unused bed, in an empty room. 
Never allowing truth's purspose, and it's freedom to be viewed.
I spent years laying in that bed waiting for him to become a better man, somehow free.
It was a costly lesson to finally realize the only one I could truly change was me.
For there are times it is strength to linger within the flame,
but there are others when it is mightier to stand up and walk away.




Saturday, June 5, 2010

Liberty Has No Saddle




A horse within her fences needs no saddle nor her reins. Galloping her own pasture holding wind's freedom within her mane.

She follows not a footstep, for each made is yet her own. Gracefully keeping her destination, though she must dance there all alone.

A horse within her fences, where the gates are closed up tight. For liberty has no saddle, yet it always has a price.

Friday, May 7, 2010

Learning How To Reach


The river is a drifter always leaving behind what it once had, never comprehending the purpose that returning has. For the distant shore behind it has so much to teach, and so the restless river is still learning how to reach.


The forest is an anchor always holding to the hope of freedom it does not have, never truly grasping the purpose for which the roots do stand. For the wind that bends the branches has so much to teach, and so the settling forest is still learning how to reach.


Mankind is an idealistic dreamer always seeking the perfect path, never understanding the purpose that falling has. For the stumbling blocks before us have so much to teach, and so mankind in his searching is still learning how to reach.