Moments

Moments

By: Lora Bayh

During the time I took care of my father, just before he died, I sat and wrote the following song as he slept. He was fragile, and depended on me, after years and years of being the rock of my entire life. For that time our roles had been reversed. I thought of how…in spite of how things seemed, not even that painful circumstance, or the passing of time, nor my increasing age, would ever change the fact that I would always be daddy‘s little girl. At forty-two, I still am to this day. Ask me when I’m ninety, and I will surely tell you, “Yes, I’m still daddy’s little girl.”. His Birthday is coming a week from this Saturday, the 26th. This will be the 11th Birthday he has missed. He would be 83. His last birthday before he passed, his illness was far too advanced, and he did not possess the strength to join in the celebration, we, his children and grandchildren had laid out for him, and that, to me, finally signaled how close to the end we had come. Rather than cake he opted for med’s and rest. Daddy, had he one ounce of strength left to afford, would have gone along to make us feel better. That night, while sitting alone with him, he finally woke to find me sitting in the chair with this song in my hand, crying. I had been trying so hard to come to terms with it all, and he knew this without my explanation. It was that night, though only for the briefest time, that daddy would assume the role of daddy for the very last time. He spoke with me about the end, how much he loved me, his hopes and dreams for my life which were so simple…true contentment and happiness, and then some more about his love for me. Up to that point, I had sidestepped talking about the “end”, somehow fearing that to speak of it would somehow invite it to creep closer. The song spoke so much of it that I wished to avoid sharing it, but then he asked me to sing it to him, as he patted the empty space in the safe hollow of his arm, inviting me to cuddle next to him. I thought that if there was an acceptable stage the crook of him arm was definitely it. I then gave him a great big kiss and squeeze, and snuggled up in bed with him, laying in his still seemingly strong arms for the last time he was able to tolerate me there, comfortably. I closed my eyes and sang him these simple words. Not the best I had, or have, ever composed, but words springing from the deepest, and purest crevices of my most tender, and frightened heart, which at that moment, beat only FOR that “moment”…for it contained my whole world, a world that was slipping too quickly away from me.

I was daddy’s little girl. He meant everything to me.

The most precious times I know were spent upon his knee.

But those yesterday’s had wings, And they have brought us to this place.

Where the strength of youth once stood I now see daddy’s aging face.

Years thrown to the wind. Where did all those years go?

Now we’ve come to the end, but I still need daddy so.

I know he must leave and he’ll take part of my world, but his love will always live in daddy’s little girl.

As I look upon him now I have never loved him more.

I want to crawl upon his knee like I did so long before.

And if I have one regret It’s that I thought he’d never go.

I took for granted so much time…. Now I want that time back so!

Years thrown to the wind. Where did all those years go?

Now we’ve come to the end, but I still need daddy so.

I know he must leave and he’ll take part of my world,

but his love will always live In daddy’s little girl.

Your love will always live…. here in daddy’s little girl.

There was a span of comfortable silence, and I felt his tears on my forehead which was pressed close to his cheek. As I was wiping away my own he said, “I don’t believe anyone’s ever written a song for me before. Thanks for such a wonderful present, it was beautiful. This has been the best birthday. Now let‘s have some of that cake and get you off to bed.” He pretended to want some birthday cake, and only attempted a couple of bites, then became very tired. Those were our last moments where he was the daddy, and I was his little girl. I love that memory. It’s probably my favorite from a list spanning a lifetime of favorites. For all of these 11 years I have sang that song to myself. A song that no one knows. Our song. It is the anthem to a moment that I will treasure until my own last breath is drawn. It’s melody will serenade me to the light, when I will see him again, whole and strong. I know he will lead me to our Father, he and mother had been doing that since the day I was born. I have often wondered what happened to that copy of the song that I left on his bedside table. After all was said and done, and his possessions were divided amongst the four of us, no one had seen it. I’ve been a little blue for a few days. Having just made it through August with mom’s birth and subsequent death anniversaries. Equally difficult for me are the months of September and October. Dad died exactly one month and one day from that night, October 27, 1998. Today, the random thought occurred to me that it might be fun to read one of dad’s Grisham novels. Over the ten months of his illness I had bought him in-numerable paperback novels to read, sometimes two per week, and he was a huge John Grisham fan. So, Grisham seemed appropriate. I pulled out the worn copy of “The Runaway Jury”, and flipped through it’s pages in some strange hope of getting a whiff of him. Instead, a sheet of paper dropped to the floor. It was oddly familiar. I opened it up, and there was our song. You can imagine, I lost it! I read through the words, already imprinted on my brain long ago, and noticed there was more there then my hand had penned. The writing was not as beautiful and precise as my dad’s writing had always been, but it was still recognizable all the same. It simply said, “My dearest little girl, you have grown into a warm and loving young woman, and I’m so proud of you. Be happy, and live abundantly with my blessing. May the Lord keep you safe, and well cared for in my absence. Be as wonderful a mother as you have always been a daughter. You have given me the greatest gift of your love. I will love you always and you will always be daddy‘s little girl.”

A very wise person once said, “Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” By that measure I am blessed beyond even my own ability to completely comprehend, and I will never stop being grateful. Losing someone you love is hard, but they are never gone entirely. I know, beyond all else I know, daddy knew that I needed that today. Thank you, Happy Birthday, and I love you daddy. I can't wait to wake up tomorrow, and get busy creating more moments.

To those who vote on PoetryBlogRankings.com...

The poetry that I write is a very personal endeavor to express the things that I hold inside.
I make no claims to be talented, or worthy of adulation or praise. The only reasons that I write
are simply to unload, to cope, to gain a better more positive perspective personally. The only reason that I share these pieces of myself, is the knowledge that we all face very similar things in life, and I have gleaned so much from reading others who have expressed themselves that I felt, perhaps, there might be something another might glean from me. I joined a site called PoetryBlogRankings.com, in order to further the whole sharing experience, and to have to opportunity to read others, in order that I may learn and moreover, enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated in it’s most honest form. I long for constructive critiques and suggestions so that I may successfully improve, as I am in much need of this kind of assistance, having never had a formal education in literature of any kind. (my greatest regret)
I have run into a strange, and very disconcerting, occurrence. I have fully expected, in the spirit of “putting myself out there”, that there would be some who might like my work, as well as those who would not. It has become apparent, however, that someone is voting in a less constructive manner than this ideal. I am receiving what I will call “bundles of votes“, every so often, in which someone is voting, negatively, sometimes four, six, even eight times…consecutively, within a time frame of moments. This plagues me, for it cannot be viewed in any other light other than malicious voting, and I can’t imagine why someone would work so hard, personally, to cast me down. The site is not some kind of contest, there is no prize or special recognition as far as I understand. I do not care, sincerely, whether I am ranked first or last, as long as I am getting fair and honest feedback I so need. I would have to suspect that the one doing this is a fellow poet on the site. Please regard me as no threat, and in the spirit of expression we share, cease to mar my already slight confidence, as I would never seek to hurt another the same. As you know, it is, of itself, a very difficult task to share such private pieces of ourselves. I love poetry, in all it’s forms, each so unique, but in it‘s complexity an art savored by individual tastes. Whoever you are, I wish you no ill will, and hope you realize we cannot build ourselves up by means of tearing down others without losing the most good and sincere parts of ourselves, whether we sense it or not. It’s a great big poetic world, and there is much room for all of us to create and share. Thank you for your time.

To Hold the Rose.

To Hold the Rose.
By: Lora Bayh


If I desire the rose, above all other things,
to possess and hold forever...
there’s consequence possession brings.
For if I desire the rose, to, it’s thorns I must embrace.
To weigh desire by the cost seems to eliminate the haste.
But when I smell the rose,
I cease to see the sharpness of it’s guards.
Till I look down at fingertips bleeding from the shards.
My eyes still filled with beauty from the tender petals soft,
conclude enduring injury is such a tiny cost.
My mind does brace to feel the pain,
but it’s diluted by the bliss,
the allure of satin splendor, the dew upon it’s kiss.
I’ll gladly bleed to hold the rose forever just as this.

Amazing Notion

Amazing Notion.

By Lora Bayh

At peace to know it’s out there. That it considers me.

That it found me worthy. At peace that it just be.

To fill my cup sincere and make me feel in deed,

that I am cared for deeply, that it considers me.

A heart that smiles warmly upon each fond recall.

Such an amazing notion that it considers me at all.

Such careful consideration. It weighed all that I am,

by all that it can see...but even more by what it can’t.

In the end came to determine I’ve value hidden still from me,

that it did deem me suitable...at that, considerably.

It’s so amazing still, that it considers me,

for I have always believed in love…now it believes in me.

Sweet Anodyne

Sweet Anodyne

By: Lora Bayh

Living in a world, not allowed to feel, to express, to be….uninhibitedly….who I am at the deepest part of me. Walking through my days, fixed gaze, thoughts running wild….like a child…excitedly my imagination flares, in ways adults not dare. Love inside so strong, so deep, that runs so long….unendingly….the greatest part of me, yet alone I stay, hiding inner child away. Duality a whirl, a little girl, and grown-up, little girl won‘t shut up…fighting over me…and I’m rooting for the girl you see. Hold her hand tightly, beg her to behave politely, don’t make a fool of me, not how I’m supposed to be…almost parochially…but oh so secretly, wishing I could truly set her free. A din devil stole her wings, so she hides in pleasant things…capricious pondering….she’s the part I love the most and I’ll never let her go. She’s the secret, happy thought, she peeks through my eyes an awful lot….giggling wildly, never mildly, she lifts me up and sets my grown-up feet to dancing. Living in a world where I’m supposed to be climbing numbly through the years with a stoic pose…mature repose…shrouded in the black and white confinement of my age. But gleefully, wingless little sprite won’t let me be…sweet anodyne….leaving behind the traps that world I’m living in hides cleverly. It’s she, enticing me to skip when I should walk, to talk and talk and talk….voluminously…when my grown-up ears are more inclined for listening. My eyes glistening with her never-ending awe, seeing all the way she saw….venerable shell….but inside I’m playing house dressed up for wandering.

Locked Inside

Locked Inside
By: Lora Bayh

There are times when all that can’t be
Overshadows all that could be
Accentuated by all the need be’s
Making what could be out of grasp.
There are times when things we want
Lay out of reach, serve to taunt
Just a dream pushed back for ought
Making us sacrifice those secret things.
Then there are times inside we know
If we had the guts to go
And pursue what taunts us so
We’d find content.
But there are rules, that higher ground
That serves to force we lay dreams down
And find pleasure in what surrrounds
Making dreams a treasure locked inside.
And then the scope of all that could be
Interweaves itself in what’s uniquely
The DNA of personality
Making those dreams determine who we are.
For it’s the secret that we keep
It’s for the sacrifice we weep
That those who know us never see
What we give up to give ourselves to them.
That, for them, we lay down who we are
That we stop reaching for those secret stars
We place our lives behind surreptitious bars
And just be who we’re supposed to.
That’s the beauty of sacrifice
The laying down without thinking twice
For what’s right will itself suffice
If we let the dream light us up within
And illuminate the need be
By the surrender of the could be
Keeping us from drowning in the can’t be
Making us better in the end.

Happy, happy Mothers Day.

Happy, happy Mother’s Day.
By: Lora Bayh
May 9th, 2009


He brought me, what he explained was a turtle, painted partially green.
The cutest little abstract turtle my eyes have ever seen.
He brought me a little flower, in a tiny Dixie cup.
And a cookbook he’d designed himself,
With recipes “that will fill our tummies up.”
He brought me a masterpiece, he’d created for me in art.
A flower blooming, and written there, the contents of his heart.
It bestowed on me the honor of “Best Friend in the World.”,
Among it’s paper petals as if the words had just unfurled.
He brought me his excitement, that I should have a day,
When “Mommy” was a special word he loved so much to say.
He then ran off so quickly, and left me there to think,
With all those lovely treasures, he was gone before I blinked.
And as he flittered off, to adventures sure to be,
It occurred to me, how very much, he reminded me…of me.

And I thought….

A mother is a woman, who gives herself away
To the children God entrusts to her, as light to lead their way.
She’s a creature led by instinct, who acts by love alone.
She’s a once upon a time daughter with babies of her own.
She has questions, she has fears, she kisses boo-boo’s and smiles through tears.
She’s a anchor, she’s the hub, she tends to every need with love.
She had dreams, but can’t deny, her children’s victories quiet her sighs.
She gets so tired, at times confused, then she looks at them and can’t refuse.
She’s just a woman, yet in her hands, she holds the future by tiny hands
She’s nothing great, but nothing small, she’s the foundation, the wherewithal.
She is me, she’s is you, just women loving those we love with all we do.

And as I thought…

I saw through memories comforting view, my younger self with gifts that I’d made too.
And for a moment I was back, sitting so safely on her lap,
As together we discussed these gifts I brought, as if I were a gifted tot.
She smiled so lovely, my tears then grew, understanding exactly what she knew…
That a mother just needs a moment or two, when she knows that she has gotten through.
And the love she shares has been received, and is returned and valued endlessly.
The acknowledgement, the moment shared, the love that passes beyond compare
Undoubtedly enough to suffice, and so much greater than the sacrifice.
This Mother’s Day as twelve before, I’m a daughter who has a mother no more.
Yet with her love locked in my soul I’m a mother who is completely whole.
With a turtle, a flower, a cookbook and art, the best friend of the best boy with a great big heart.

If

IF
By Lora Bayh

If another finds me here, what would that mean to you.
If another see’s inside of me the way you do?
If another came along that wanted me, would you care?
If another had the strength in them to dare?
If another saw that I possessed real worth, would you agree?
If another‘s embrace could lift me up gently?
If another had the courage to pursue, would you envy?
If another got inside the place you possess in me?

If another came along, would I even notice him?
If another wasn’t everything you’ve been?
If another tried to take the blinders off my eyes,
If another did he’d see you in my eyes.
If another pushed so hard against these walls
If another pushed I wouldn’t feel at all.
If another didn’t look, sound, taste, and touch like you
If another couldn’t make me feel all that you do
Then "if" is just a useless word it seems, if you can never be mine, if love doesn’t mean thing.

When the Magnolias Bloom



When the Magnolias Bloom.
By: Lora Bayh

I was just a little girl, watching my mother, memorizing her every move.
Spring’s first hints excited her so, but none more than the Magnolias bloom.
Too young to understand the fuss, the love, the anticipation,
But enough to gasp at daddy , “Daddy, “Magmolyas” will be here soon!!!”

She’d take a moment daily, to check upon it’s progress
Gauging with elation the beautiful perfection of it’s immergence.
My mother was never more alive than… when the Magnolias bloomed.

There was something more to it all, just beneath the surface.
I can recall her standing by it’s side,
dark red bark, soft pink petals…her own beauty magnified
by the mystery of this scene.
I could have sworn a precious child, in mother’s hazel eyes
was peering back at me…as she explained their flowers die
then come alive as the grandest in God’s scheme.

The Magnolia tree in our front yard stood so many years in a place of reverence
Through those years I saw it’s beauty but never quite realized it’s greater purpose,
And why mother was never more alive than… when the Magnolias bloomed.

A spring some twenty five years later, from that earliest memory, marked the pinnacle of tragedy
Of many befalling our family.
She’d faced so much with courage, and stood her ground like steel, but when the tree was damaged
She grieved as much as heart could feel.
Still, I couldn’t see it, I just couldn’t comprehend, how a little tree had come to be
My mother’s dearest friend.
Or the sadness in her pondering, for the spring that was to come,
Or the ache her heart was feeling if it’s little blooms be done.



As spring approached she watched it close, even more closely than before,
And I noticed she stood lingering much longer at the door.
What would be to come… if our tree was done…when the Magnolias bloomed?

It took some extra time, but life did find a way, mother’s excitement couldn’t be contained
When a single bloom appeared one warm spring day.
Then another, and another, though it could just produce a few,
It might as well have been thirty feet tall, for it took up all her view.
She, though, seemed so different, like part of her was lost,
As if the tree took something with it, and she did pay the cost.

She seemed older, much more fragile, like the petals she loved so dear
And seemed to listen more to spring than what my ear could hear.
And her gentle beauty came more alive this time… when the Magnolias bloomed.

By August of that summer, mother’s time with us ended. Unexpectedly, she went on to her rest.
As I, in my own grief, sifted sweetly through her secrets, I found the answer to the mystery she had left.
A paper folded neatly, tucked in a yellowed journal, written by my mother’s younger hand…
Told with such emotion, of a daughter’s devotion, to her daddy who’d helped her to understand.


She had written him a love song, when he had passed away,
Vowing how she’d not forget the promises he’d made…
Of how life begins again, how she’d always remember him…when the Magnolias bloomed.

My minds eye recalled those many years, and all my wondering,
at the hope she grasped so fervently at the dawn of each new spring.
Tears were streaming down my face and my throat too choked to breath,
heart beating so inside my chest that I started to feel weak.
For years I’d been a witness to a miracle of love, enduring far beyond the bounds of earth and sky above.
She kept it to herself, yet shared it all the same, she honored all he’d shown her and turned, into joy, all her pain.

And now it’s been twelve years, and now it’s spring again,
and now my son stands with me as we take the beauty in.
As the blooms start to engage us, and their appearance weakens strife,
as my mother comes to me again, as I thank my God for eternal life…
Now my own son’s watching me, memorizing every move,
and I’m feeling so alive and very thankful too,
and I believe he thinks I’m beautiful…when the Magnolias bloom.

Fool

Fool
By Lora Bayh


Putting faith in wrong things,
Traveling dead end roads,
Holding things that can’t be,
Never more alone.
Touching fire
Self imposing pain
Breaking the umbrella
And drowning in the rain…

No blame…I did this to myself…

Opening heart and soul to be mishandled
Treading water with weights tied on my feet
Looking for crumbs on a gravel path
Tasting the sour after the sweet.
Closing eyes to my own actions.
Who’s that person in the mirror?
Surprised at my reaction.
Should have known I’d end up here.

Such shame…why’d I do this to myself?

First rule of want;
Don’t want what you can’t get.
First rule of heart;
Don’t choose the wrong outlet.
First rule of trust;
It’s something to be earned.
First rule of the fool;
It’s easy to get burned.

All in vain….and I did it to myself.

I Thought...

I Thought…
By: Lora Bayh

I thought of you today. I thought of the softest touch
Of a gentle smile, hidden so strategically.
I thought of a simple word or two, each to me a clue.
I thought of you with peace. I thought how safe it felt
In your embrace, your gentle face,
A tenderness intrinsically
Part of the chemistry, your voice still in my head
The things you said,
And the things you’ll never say.
I thought of all the miles
That obstruct my view, of lovely you
Of the time we’ll never spend
And the time we’ll steal away
Right or wrong
Still pressing here, then gone, that will always be this way.
I thought about my part
lonely girl, impending broken heart
And how I cannot turn and run
How long I’ve wished for one…like you
How that knowing has sentenced me to
The painful blade of knowledge.
Wasn’t ignorance bliss before your kiss,
Before I knew what was really missing.
Never to have missed who I wasn’t kissing.
My heart will want for more.
I thought of you, and I thought of me
I thought, “I’ll think these thoughts till the end of me.”

A Plea To Time

A Plea to Time.
By: Lora Bayh

Slow down, slow down! You’re speeding by too fast.
Can I catch you, and keep you where we are a while?
What’s you’re hurry? What’s the rush?
Do I want you to wait too much?
Is it such a strange request to long to savor?
Moments here and then their gone, before I blink it’s been too long,
And it’s a curse to see the speed at which you pass.
In the moment that is now, I close my eyes and wonder how
As you tick away impatient of my pondering.
Each tapestry of memories, their vivid colors your job to fade in the face of others
That are building on your sands,
that slip so softly through my hands…slow down, slow down!.
In days my visions weren’t so clear
It seemed you traveled slower, still,
You wore disguise, in times you fooled me to believe, would always last.
You’re a cruel one, that’s your game.
Here then gone. You won’t remain,
as you press steady, relentless towards infinity.
So to you I’m just a speck, my moments concern you not….
You’ve no respect. Yet I chase you still,
though you’ll always elude me to the end.
If you insist then, have your way,
for I’ve no voice, I have no say
But I must warn you, by the way,
I’ll fight you every single day.
Knowing one day you’ll pass me by,
as I make my way to God on High,
you’ll go on, but you will have no power left over me.
So see, it won’t be that you won, you just stole little lingerings in the sun,
my babies childhood’s, my youth, my endurance for life‘s run.
And even though you chose to rush,
you couldn’t take away that much.
All the moments that I’ve had, and all the one’s I seek to have,
will be enough to suffice.
Where you got me, where you stabbed,
is the moments I’ll never have,
and the one’s I wanted to linger in a while.
Slow down, Slow down! It’s just a wish that comes around,
On blue sky days when breezes entice me to get lost.
To watch my child as he plays, to want to always feel this way.
I‘d hold you back were I able, but I can‘t catch you and keep you where we are a while.
Slow down, slow down!

Remedy

Remedy
By: Lora Bayh

The sky is painted blue today
With cotton balls up high.
A warm breeze sweeps across my skin.
From my throat escapes a sigh.
Peace wraps itself around me
As I choose to quiet my mind.
The suns hot fingers caress me now
And water cools parts that sun can’t find.
I close my eyes to all the beauty
And the sound carries me away,
The sounds of nature saying…
“Let all things go, just for today.”

Evermore

Evermore
By: Lora Bayh

When your heart finds it's secret garden
but you cannot let it go.
When you find what could make you happy
but can't leave where your at to ever know.
When your life's compass begs to change directions
but your planted where you stand.
When your torn between two choices
they can both slip through your hands.
When your soul longs to sing a new song
but your lips won't say the words.
When in the distance there breaks a new dawn
but to be it's witness seems absurd.
When lies before you a sea of bounty
but your anchored on the shore.
All you could ever want, or ever need
hides in the garden evermore.

Mirage

Mirage
By: Lora Bayh

I looked up in the clouds
Even there I saw your face
Shinning down from heavens floor
Taking up all time and space.
A face that speaks of nothing
Revealing not the heart
With eyes that see right through me
To tender, hidden parts.
Invention of my hope
Mirage of all I dream
Masquerading in desire
Gratified by such a scene.

A Hero Like the Other

A Hero Like the Other.
By Lora Bayh


I’m a hero. I saw myself, very grand, cape in hand, in my son’s eyes today.
I’m a hero. Who knows where to kiss the hurt away, and all the perfect words to say.
Though I question so many things, and cry my secret tears…I’m a hero.
Though I make mistakes, and hide my fears, and harbor sorrows…I’m a hero.

He’s my hero….his eyes express his world, and his arms ‘round me are curled so tightly.
He’s my hero….he make the bad subside, in light filled hazel eyes, he smiles so brightly.
And though he makes mistakes, he see’s through a fuller glass, and doesn’t dwell on past….
He’s my hero.
And though he’s much to learn, his soul’s still wiser now, unencumbered by the “how’s?”….
He’s my hero.

He and I traverse each days obstacles, hand in hand, strength drawing on strength, love bearing love, need fulfilling need.
Hero to Hero.
Son leaning on mother…mother gleaning from son.
Better than either would be without a Hero like the other.

"What I Have Joined..."

I wrote this several years ago for someone who was considering divorce. She was being wooed by a man who was telling her there was so much more out there for her, that she deserved more. Her husband was forgetting to notice her, and there was no spark anymore. She divorced him anyway and is very happy today!!

“What I Have Joined…”
By Lora Bayh
November 8th, 2005

Love grown complacent, tends not to ebb…or flow,
But grows stagnant in the stillness where it lies.
Not that it’s gone astray…rather into shadow hides…
Waiting to be discovered,
Afforded effort,
Before it dies.
And in the time it seems it’s lost, while to the side it has been tossed,
The yearning to be cared for won’t subside.
led to fall prey
to behaviors
that divide.
Discontent worn on the face, justification comes at feverish pace,
Till another finds the place to scratch…the vows you spoke have met their match.
Easier to run away
From expectations gone astray,
Then to fight and save a union blessed…
of God.
The one thing the young can never know,
Is love
In the midst of complacency
Still grows.
For through committed time that’s spent
Love’s devotion will the itch,
In time,
Circumvent.
The key is to avoid the chance,
to scratch the itch…
in this circumstance,
And determine, by choice, you took vows for life,
Through the good,
The complacent,
And all the strife.
Setting the mind there’s no way out, is truly what commitment is all about.
With love that keeps no record of wrongs…with faith in God to keep you strong.
The ebbs and flows of love return!
With a pocket full of lessons learned,
If you stood your vows while loves waters were still.
You’ll have certainty you did God’s Will.
Recall the very vows you spoke,
stop excusing them as blunder,
For God spoke over the union you pledged,
“What I have joined,
Let no man, put asunder!”

Fool

Fool
By Lora Bayh
March 2009

Putting faith in wrong things,
Traveling dead end roads,
Holding things that can’t be,
Never more alone.
Touching fire
Self imposing pain
Breaking the umbrella
And drowning in the rain…

No blame…I did this to myself…

Opening heart and soul to be mishandled
Treading water with weights tied on my feet
Looking for crumbs on a gravel path
Tasting the sour after the sweet.
Closing eyes to my own actions.
Who’s that person in the mirror?
Surprised at my reaction.
Should have known I’d end up here.

Such shame…why’d I do this to myself?

First rule of want;
Don’t want what you can’t get.
First rule of heart;
Don’t choose the wrong outlet.
First rule of trust;
It’s something to be earned.
First rule of the fool;
It’s easy to get burned.

My pain…and I did it to myself.

Valentine's

Valentine's message to all of you lucky couples out there.


To those of you who will cuddle up to someone who loves you, who cherishes you, who has invested their love, years of their time, and the biggest parts of themselves in you, this Valentine’s Day, cherish what you have. Just as we have all been advised at one time or another to, “eat all the food on your plate, there are starving people everywhere who would love to have what you have.”, there are also people starving for connection that would love to have even the smallest crumbs of your kind of relationships. All unions are challenged by time and close proximity, but the ones that persevere, bulldoze their way through the sands of time, with straight aimed conviction, are the desire and monocle of every person whose heart beats without it‘s compliment. Perfection is not the scale on which to grade your bond, better to rate on the curve of effort, willingness, and loyalty. Never ceasing to search out, and hold tightly the source of your initial discernment that…this one, this lovely heart and soul, this person, is to be the rest of my life. Then, after such reflection, show that love all the honor it so deeply deserves, in what ever true form you should discover to express it. That…is eating every single precious morsel on your plate, and in doing so, those of us who starve for what you have cannot doubt, ever, that the search for true love is worth it. To those of you who see your Valentines every single day, I hope you set the 14th apart and make it special, because love is a gift given to be shared, and some of us live in a fickle world where what some take for granted is all we hope for. Have a very love revisited kind of Valentine’s Day all you fortunate couples! :) Lora Bayh

“A Little Bird Once Told Me.”
By Lora Bayh
January 19th, 2009

Quite oddly on window ledge…a tiny bird did loft.
Peered through glass, rounded head, feathers appear’d so soft.
A curious glance, I gave it’s plight, it seemed to notice me…
if to implore…me through the door…to see… alright it be.
Never before, I’d noticed more, a voice within it’s teeny eyes
Which seemed to speak…faintly weak…that it witnessed my demise.
No word it said, not my ear to hear…I heard it speak the same
It held no fear, though I stood near. When beckoned…In reply… I came.
Inquired I….with all the sky, it’s flight was free to take…
Did it choose…my view… to muse…with such a vast landscape?
It offered me…perspective’ly, an alternate repose.
To listen more, it did entreat…to how… it’s story goes.
It did infer, we were alike, our perils…not so diverse.
For it once too, had lost it’s view, in a caged and evil curse.
For once upon, a vicious time, it was plucked by some sad fate.
Put in confine, until a time, chance came…to make escape.
The worst…it shared…that made it scared, was it couldn’t find it’s voice.
And when it saw an open door, it had to make a choice.
Now as it be, it came to me…..
to share a while, a peril that I….
…..perceived might offer hope.
For in it’s eyes, I knew it wise….
but to disguise… might paralyze…..
…..this catalyst that offered rope.
How could it know… my life so… it did, though….all the same.
Trapped in pen, locked within, until this courser came.
And I….in wonder…did reply, how did it get such courage?
It calmly sighed, without deny….“to imprison is to scourge.”
“I’m a bird, and by design, I’m destined to be free.
Never try to cage… or I will fly… so far away from thee.
Look at you, imprisoned too, you too must take to flight.
Though missing wings, your heart still sings, inside that grip so tight.
I’ve observed your laments tears…..
a witness to your captors sneers,
Observing all the while, you wear a vacant smile…..
and entice you to believe…..
You could share the skies with me,
for though I may be small, it’s still a soul’s right after-all…
To soar.”
A little bird once told me, what I knew within myself…..
If God inclined us as captive, He would have caged us each His self.

My earnest hope is that this piece would help someone, as much as it helped me to create it.
From the moment the idea came to me, things in my own life situation began to take a turn. I found myself looking for the “open door“. When it suddenly appeared in an instant, like the bird, I took to flight. I cannot wait to feel the soft new ground beneath my feet when I too can safely come to rest, finally free to be what I was created to be. Thank you for taking the time to read this. Whatever holds you the least bit captive, may you find the courage to break away!

"Angel"

“Angel”
By Lora Bayh

February 2, 2009

A love that isn’t mine set me free.

Stuck in place and losing my vision of what I was worth… if anything.

Circling life, but not living it…a tender heart reached out.

A friend who saw me, who took a chance to know me, who cared enough to show me…myself.

A strong hand extended by one who possessed character as I’ve never known before...

stopped me in my path, and breathed new vigor into my lungs,

resuscitating my very own will to come back alive.

Who convinced me my mind was sound, and turned me just enough to face myself

and take a deeper look.

Who offered an objective perspective, that all could be corrected,

that everything was able to improve according to my determination to make it so.

To not be afraid of all the fear, and impart to my spirit the permission to flourish,

granting me permission I never needed…

but wanted to be given…to spread my wings and soar.

Who came and went, but yet remains, in memories refrain,

and promised to be mine forever, if needed ever.

Not a love, just of, passion or pain,

but a love pure, supportive, without shame,

placed a mirror in my hand and showed me there is beauty to behold,

to myself untold.

A friend is gold.

Not a love that’s mine to keep, released me,

and helped me love…most importantly…

the person I never knew I had the freedom to be,

and gently, strongly, held me up for the first most difficult steps

into the light of my independence.

Who revealed to my sight all the lies I’d invested too much belief in,

and sternly showed me the lovely radiance of the truth,

where reality lives, and possibilities are endlessly abounding.

A love that cannot be mine, a love that serves a higher purpose,

stopped for a moment to grace me with a miracle,

and told me it could not stay,

that I could not grasp it too tightly….

assuring me I could continue my way alone.

One moment here, the next gone,

still inside that love is strong.

Knowing I will be alright, knowing holding the memory of that love so tight,

I will make it worth it’s time, to grace me with it’s presence…

though it can never be mine.

Such a desire to make it proud, to do all that…in turn…I’d vowed,

and show it the strength it imparted to me…I push on… but do so willingly.

And I swear I heard the buzz of wings,

surrounding all these lovely things.

An angel came to me, to show,

me love I would have never known.

A love that extended to my being, a love that proved to be so freeing.

I’m able, versed, confidant, and even proud….

but will never share it’s name aloud.

Other than to speak these words I write,

about a love that cannot be mine.

On the Bright Side

Disclaimer; this poem was written by me to help me. It deals with many excuses I was being handed, and is my attempt to sort them out, and not get caught up in them. These optimistic ideals are mine, and not all can share this kind of outlook. It is not intended to downplay all of the struggles and tragedies we all face, but just to help present a different perspective. One I have chosen to cope with a lot of situations I have been presented with throughout my life. A cousin of mine, whom I tried to share this with, called it idealistic, and simple. I'm putting myself out there...and know not all will agree, but that is what art is...a personal interpretation. I hope some benefit, and if it's not your thing.. that's okay. Everything is good!


On the Bright Side
By: Lora Bayh
July 21, 2001


On a scale of very smaller,
to incredibly much taller,
bet you all one hundred dollars
That we all fall in between.
The best way to know that you are blessed,
is to look to those who have much less,
and stop feeling life is such a test...
Life just happens.
What we have or what we don't,
what some suffer and some won't,
there's no "fair share", no antidote.
It's wasted consideration.
All our time is better spent,
since our time is merely lent,
thanking God for house or tent..
At least your head is covered.
Apples and oranges, as you know,
in very different climates grow,
wasted is time comparing them, so....
Things are as meant to be.
For those who think that life's a game,
play too long, and transfer blame,
then pout and complain about the same...
In the end will find time precious.
All of us must simply learn,
no bridge to the past is left unburned.
Not one of us can ever return...
So concentrate on the present.
Control your thoughts, and use them well,
for if in the past and hurts you dwell,
you'll have created your own private Hell...
As your blessings go unnoticed.
Some find, when centered on things wrong,
their peace and joy are only strong,
with booze and drugs to help along...
The path of their destruction.
For there is no crucial circumstance,
that getting numb can't less enhance,
but that's just living in a trance...
Life's not getting any better.
You'll just have to get high again,
cause you came down, things came crashing in,
and it's all about everyone else's sin...
So you justify that your escaping.
So, you escaped but where'd you go?
It was easier, that's all you know,
but your just reaping what you sow...
You've become your own abuser.
For those hell-bent on retribution,
have committed their life to institution,
and feed their hate with vengeful solution...
They will never know beauty.
We all know that life's not fair.
Were it, things would be perfect everywhere.
Accept that it's up to you to care...
And clean up the way your thinking.
Dysfunctional family? Bad childhood?
Why you? You know your innately good.
Life beat you up while you quietly stood...
Now your knee deep in self-pity.
Who could ever feel sorry for you
with the wonderful job of it you do.
Don't consider what you've put them through...
While you've been pointing prickly fingers.
Forgiveness is the only tool, it's more than just
the Golden Rule.
It's freedom... and it gives you fuel...
To get started in a new direction.
Cause at the human mind, I am amazed,
can heal itself, or end up crazed.
Bad thoughts create a murky haze...
As it work with what you give it.
With all we think we have a choice,
to shut thoughts out or give them voice.
Only you can control the noise...
The monkey is on your back.
The truly brave are one's I know,
who've completely opened up their soul,
looked at what could stay... what had to go...
Said, "This is life, I think I'll live it!".
Who've set other individuals free
of all the, "Look at what you've done to me!",
and took responsibility...
To find their backbone.
Cause the majority of what's been done to you,
was nothing intentional anyone meant to do,
there were probably things they were going through...
And you were caught in the backlash.
From giving trust and being used,
to sexual and child abuse,
by tragedy we all are fused...
There's nothing new under the sun!
Our basic differences come, you see,
from the way we handle our tragedies.
Trials can teach us our abilities...
Or they can give us our excuses.
Though we all want to receive respect,
it's not something we can just expect.
Take some time for a little retrospect...
And decide if you've worked to achieve that.
There's an age of accountability,
when I'm responsible for the quality,
of the gift of this life God gave to me...
It's a pity just to waste it.
I believe it is a right at birth,
to smile as we walk this earth.
Cause in God's eyes you have real worth...
God doesn't make mistakes.
No baby ever learned to walk,
without falling down and taking knocks.
Yes, it hurts them, and they cry and squawk...
But never just give up!
If we, in our earliest years,
found tenacity to conquer fears...
what holds us back in later years...
From pressing till we make it?
Failure comes more from our thoughts,
than anything the past has wrought.
It's the lies we told ourselves and bought....
But you have the power to change that.
Start with simple, little things....
morning sun, the light it brings.
And cut first just the smallest strings...
That hold you in the darkness.
And as you do you'll start to heal,
find your gaining strength to face the real....
And bigger ropes that bound your heals...
And kept you from moving on.
I'm sorry to have to say so plain,
you have free will to stop the pain,
you can say you've tried...it was all in vain...
Happiness is for those who seek it.
All these things I've found were true,
and put them down in verse for who...
might need some help, perspective new...
Who want to start making changes.
As for me... I want to see what heights I'll reach,
letting events just do their job and teach,
me more the possibilities...
Of living life on the bright side!!!!!

Thanks for taking the time to read this! Hoping you see all the beauty that surrounds you.Lora

"I Ask You..."

"I Ask You."
by Lora Bayh
November 9th, 2008


Proud and scared,
all shades in between.
With question to hope
for the new things we've seen.
The jubilant secretly shivering,
the frightened pray dare to hope,
regardless of affiliation
together we hold tightly history's rope.
Anticipate, we all do,
the outcome of this cause,'
the future of our plight.
For our children do we pause?
To embrace or to cry..
glass half full, or glass half dry?
Our present soon to be the past.
Choices now will surely last,
and I ask you.....

What decision have you made,
while in unbending resolve you stood,
unable to adjust...save only if you would.
Try to accept, to find a place,
in the face of future freedom's race,
to see today as long before,
when pilgrims stood on Plymouth's floor,
and what was established screamed, "Don't let it be!"
We, ourselves, replied, "All men are free!"
Today...tomorrow will be,
and I ask you.....

Doesn't mankind always seem to divide,
before God opens a flood door to broaden the mind!
All that seemed… before… a downward slide,
in turn became our nation's pride.
If all could calm themselves to see,
our country as the new epitome
of what real freedom is meant to be,
then I might ask you....

How much richer are we now with color at the helm.
It's reflection throughout our people might just overwhelm.
Players on one team, united, standing strong.
Our colors interwoven in a tapestry of dawn.
For the sun has risen now,
on our country's newest day.
Like newest days before
showed we always find our way.
These words are bold to say,
but I must ask you.....

Since things have now become,
what apparently they are,
Is there something to be won
by fearing lifting bars?
Or embracing what's to come?
Holding tightly your brothers hand?
To make the best of all of us
we need only resolve we can.
We are the people standing in the new day's light.
Can't undo, now we must all do what's right.
Put yesterday back with the past,
for the future races upon us fast,
and our children care not this moment here,
but someday will step into future years,
gaze back upon THIS history.
Learn what of us,
I'm questioning?
What is that you wish them to know?
That you embraced this time,
or fought is so?
I ask you....

Soul Searching

Soul Searching
By Lora Bayh
January 2009

Flames of refining fire flare
Touching my being everywhere
Years of trials I’ve gotten through…..
All without you
Situations came and went
Left my tenacity almost spent
I’m still pushing through…..
Still without you
A soul not quite complete
Broken in half…so bittersweet
What could I do…..
Me without you
Searching, looking, everywhere
A perfect match, one to care
Chosen wrong in lieu
Of being alone…..without you.
Wonder if you’ve searched for me
In empty eyes…beseechingly
As I have for you
I’m not me… without you
Where do you hide
My love implied
You without me…..
Me without you.
A perfect fit, responsive nod
If by chance, by fate, by God
Were we to find
No longer blind
To what we lack
Each looking back
Our vision clear
to stain, or smear
Creations mark
Imprinted spark
A clue so straight
We dare not wait
Bridge the sophistry
What life had to be
Of getting by
Core unoccupied
Face only heart can recognize
No need to see with my own eyes
Faith’s knowledge
I won’t be whole
Until we stand soul to soul
More than mate to mortal shell
Yes, my heart will know you well,
No more without you