the edges ~a poem by Linda Willows

edges are founding inside of my heart,
building until the sharp features give start,
bending my poise and ladylike art
they stab at my stance and pull wonder apart.
what permit gives rise to a vein shudder this
one shadowed and darkly, red tidings dismiss,
though heart beats so slowly amidst all remiss…
the edges are forming that lead to abyss.
oh God, let the woman to harken some heed,
listen, or take any balm she may need…
will You be the one that is the intercede
before all the edges fill hearts’ core to bleed.
©2012 Linda Willows
Photograph by Jaroskav Monchak
“StumbleHeart” ~a poem by Linda Willows

Oh Heart
just be still.
Your beating does stumble,
its staggers, it rumbles.
Words have no find, all’s been
left to some mind that is
shattered to speak from the
aches, now that peak.
Oh Heart
can you find
some lost piece to bind,
all the bellow, crushed yellow
and lost marigolds.
I held them a while
until the cold
took the child;
shattered to speak from the
aches, now that peak.
©2012 Linda Willows
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Photograph by Delone
“One Face is Part All” ~by Linda Willows

T’is my own Soul that I glance when I see you there still
Each and all faces multiply and fill.
In the eyes of each shine and hope lasts to be.
I knew that you cared and leaned deeply on me.
Leaving behind all the treacherous finds
Did wrench through my psyche, my heart and my mind.
How can one live with such comfort and ease
With oceans of sorrow across a few seas.
One Face, is part All. I love you as me.
Take my hand, lift your veil. We can pray. We can see.
©2012 Linda Willows
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photo by Dexter Garcia
“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 passage to see-
The Heart that reached in and fell out far and strong
Forever, perhaps never- cast longing lifelong.
Songs that we sang before time took some hold
Come back to me, tearfully in markings yet bold.
I step to the tunes but get lost on the 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.
©2012 Linda Willows
‘
“Who’s Barefoot Now…?” by Linda Willows

from Linda, Just Remembering….
When I was a child growing up in the Deep South, my sister and me, who were always fitted with the most awful black lace up “Stride-Right” shoes during the School Year, would liberate ourselves during the long hot Summer. Barefoot Bonanza! We joyously freed anything that hindered our adventures or threatened restriction. Barefoot, all the world is barefoot.
Most of our friends on the block were allowed to wear “flip-flops” but our mother insisted that they were bad for our feet. Since we, like everyone our age, held them in very high esteem, we then took to drawing pictures of flip-flops and pretend that they were ours. Many colors, designs; it was almost fun. But ultimately barefoot was the best indoor outdoor choice, even if I did change my outfits two or three times a day; no worries about matching footwear.
I remember the cool moist feel of the thin grass in the front yard and the feeling of the bark as I climbed up my favorite tree; the breeze as it floated through my toes which I later learned to dance on. Good strong feet from healthy shoe!
Both my sister and I had our quirks. She obsessed about flip-flops and eventually designed a pair for each of us made out of cardboard and string. We proudly wore them around the neighborhood. What could my mother say, she didn’t want to stifle creativity. Later, I would be stuffing those same feet into two size smaller Pointe Shoes with practice every day for the rest of my time.
And I, always trying to design everything, wasn’t satisfied with the grass in front of our two family home so I got a pair of scissors and cut the front lawn by hand, blade by blade. It was a magnificent achievement. I have no idea what the neighbors thought. I sensed that good grass was one of life’s important things and if you had it you get many points. (no pun intended) If it was thick and mowed I developed an admiration beyond my years.
I continued the practice of drawing scenes of how I would like myself or life to be. It was always pleasurable to live inside these pictures of mine. I could be anything I desired. Imagine, I became a great ballet dancer, had long, long hair, was thin and perfect, had lots of friends and a beautiful room with and central air conditioning and a pool of course. Oh, it was a great life there in my sketch book!
Note: I made a sketch of what my husband would look like many years before, and it did look quite similar. None of the others were true, just fancy and fun. And the husband, well…it didn’t turn out. I should have seen the all the indiscretions and ripped trust. Paper gone, shredded some years ago.
However, I still am barefoot. And I love flip-flops. I have about a dozen pairs and no one can pry me from them, gaudy, gold, bangles, designer, fluffy or not. Exception: when I lived overseas in certain cultures, you may not show your toes or feet, especially the bottom! I thought that fair. I brought “school shoes” to blend. One good lesson about bare feet is to be aware of your surroundings. If your going to bare your sole, please try to be sweet!
©2012 Linda Willows
“Who’s Barefoot Now…?” written by Linda Willows…..Just Sweet Memories

from Linda, Just Sweet Memories
When I was a child growing up in the Deep South, my sister and me, who were always fitted with the most awful black lace up “Stride-Right” shoes during the School Year, would liberate ourselves during the long hot Summer. Barefoot Bonanza! We joyously freed anything that hindered our adventures or threatened restriction. Barefoot, all the world is barefoot.
Most of our friends on the block were allowed to wear “flip-flops” but our mother insisted that they were bad for our feet. Since we, like everyone our age, held them in very high esteem, we then took to drawing pictures of flip-flops and pretend that they were ours. Many colors, designs; it was almost fun. But ultimately barefoot was the best indoor outdoor choice, even if I did change my outfits two or three times a day; no worries about matching footwear.
I remember the cool moist feel of the thin grass in the front yard and the feeling of the bark as I climbed up my favorite tree; the breeze as it floated through my toes which I later learned to dance on. Good strong feet from healthy shoe!
Both my sister and I had our quirks. She obsessed about flip-flops and eventually designed a pair for each of us made out of cardboard and string. We proudly wore them around the neighborhood. What could my mother say, she didn’t want to stifle creativity. Later, I would be stuffing those same feet into two size smaller Pointe Shoes with practice every day for the rest of my time.
And I, always trying to design everything, wasn’t satisfied with the grass in front of our two family home so I got a pair of scissors and cut the front lawn by hand, blade by blade. It was a magnificent achievement. I have no idea what the neighbors thought. I sensed that good grass was one of life’s important things and if you had it you get many points. (no pun intended) If it was thick and mowed I developed an admiration beyond my years.
I continued the practice of drawing scenes of how I would like myself or life to be. It was always pleasurable to live inside these pictures of mine. I could be anything I desired. Imagine, I became a great ballet dancer, had long, long hair, was thin and perfect, had lots of friends and a beautiful room with and central air conditioning and a pool of course. Oh, it was a great life there in my sketch book!
Note: I made a sketch of what my husband would look like many years before, and it did look quite similar. None of the others were true, just fancy and fun. And the husband, well…it didn’t turn out. I should have seen the all the indiscretions and ripped trust. Paper gone, shredded some years ago.
However, I still am barefoot. And I love flip-flops. I have about a dozen pairs and no one can pry me from them, gaudy, gold, bangles, designer, fluffy or not. Exception: when I lived overseas in certain cultures, you may not show your toes or feet, especially the bottom! I thought that fair. I brought “school shoes” to blend. One good lesson about bare feet is to be aware of your surroundings. If your going to bare your sole, please try to be sweet!
©2012 Linda Willows
“Empty Shoes” ~by Linda Willows

“Empty Shoe”
What falls with these old and sharply torn tears
dares the unknown with all former lost years;
splintered, hidden, they swept into dream fears
Seems that no one but she, heard the cries, secrets, lies;
All gutted right through like someone’s old empty shoe;
A forsaken, split heart etched with Shadow Times dues.
Hidden years keep memory caves deep so well
Sighs recede, feelings lost find places to dwell.
Would some ever wish to express a farewell,
Tis within these dark walls that sole member may dwell.
No homes, no people, or vacant scars depart.
All falls back into slumber till the new one may start.
©2012 Linda Willows
(Photo: Richard Fennel)
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“Empty Shoe” ~by Linda Willows

“Empty Shoe”
What falls with these old and sharply torn tears
dares the unknown with all former lost years;
splintered, hidden, they swept into dream fears
Seems that no one but she, heard the cries, secrets, lies;
All gutted right through like someone’s old empty shoe;
A forsaken, split heart etched with Shadow Times dues.
Hidden years keep memory caves deep so well
Sighs recede, feelings lost find places to dwell.
Would some ever wish to express a farewell,
Tis within these dark walls that sole member may dwell.
No homes, no people, or vacant scars depart.
All falls back into slumber till the new one may start.
©2012 Linda Willows
(Photo: Richard Fennel)
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“Reach, Hold a Star. Keep it Near, duly Sown.” ~Poetry by Linda Willows

As the stir grew on to a deep might call,
I was soon to learn the ache of a fall.
The crush of a thousand starlight’s night
Had arrived while I slept dreaming of fate’s plight.
Silence gripped the will of all lost and fallen days.
Soul prints leap out to trace each line in harm’s way;
Tender reach ran throughout myself without touch.
My Heartbeat felt hit and stilled once too much.
Something long hidden fell away from thorns clutch.
All seemed alone in some memory stone
Kept, long ago far and away from a home.
Not from my garden, this no one could own.
Voice-”Reach, hold a star. Keep it near, duly sown,
Into the linings of All; my true dreams alone.”
Stay close to me now, through day or the night
When I rise, stir to wake; all now seems bright
By the grace of one thousand, or more if I am right,
Lighted stars sown into the inside of my sight.
©2012 Linda Willows
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Kept Inside, as Secrets Hide…Love Abides

Kept Inside, as Secrets Hide…Love Abides
In eternal hours’ wait, I have come to know
That you were my past, my memory long ago
I prayed to greet you once more in this life,
A moment, not missed, nor lost throughout strife.
I could not be cast in a shadow somewhere
yet the turnings and twists of this life left me there.
You might not have found me, or worse, not dared.
Such fate foreshadowed one I may not have bared.
I asked you to come forward to release my love’s tears,
Kept inside, as secrets hide – all through the years.
My heart held your place through the hours asking when
Fate would smile; God would grant, that I see you again.
The love that returned was a swift sword’s reward.
It shone, then dimmed and cut my heart’s cord.
A Merciful God released all hopes of you,
That Hours may live on and grant True Love through.
Peace tempered my longing, now waits only upon Thee.
At last my Heart is tended by a Higher Decree.
Memory even if “you” looked, you would no longer see “me”.
With God, my witness, my reach and my guide,
My heart’s tides are mended with grace inside,
Where secrets did hide, now deep Love abides.
©2012 Linda Willows
Hush, the Girl

Hush, the Girl
I speak of small hushed things this while
That for decades have been in my memory’s exile.
All put to rest that I might live inside a girl’s heart
Which was not destroyed before life drew her apart.
All else was extinguished, relinquished and mourned.
The haunting of moments and words were sent back unborn.
How can I advise that the heart be of Love?
When I do not treasure my own name here and sweet above?
I feel that the secrets have made flaws in my heart.
And I feign to bear Love and the Past apart.
Pray heal with mercy of sacred pulse from my Lord
Let me find this breathe as my own in Love’s chord.
That forgives the girl, the woman and she.
Let it find and loves all of them, for they are each,
each one me.
Linda Willows






















