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.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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!
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.”
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
