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Poetry

A Special Symphony

A Special Symphony

A Special Symphony

If I could place one single note
On a magical musical staff
To represent each precious child
I’ve had the pleasure to teach.
I’d create the loveliest symphony
Forever on their behalf
And fill the air with wonder and joy
As far as the music would reach.

 

I’d arrange it in the key of C
For courage to remind us all
That God is ever mindful of them
And the daily struggles they face.
Then I’d set it in three quarter time
And waltz at the wheelchair ball
As little ones spin and tiptoe twirl
Dancing in elegant grace.

 

A pure and simple melody line
Composed of notes from the soul
Would fill the earth with peace and love
For all His children everywhere.
That they may live with hope today
As they strive to reach each goal
Becoming part of the symphony
That floats on the wind as prayer.

 

for Beverly J. Belche… by C L Gillmore – Novelist and Poet

A Special Symphony

My Old Shoes

My Old Shoes

My Old Shoes

 

There’s just something wonderful about a brand new pair of shoes,
Wrapped in that rich scent of leather, burnished and smooth.
They’re fashionable and trendy with a fit snug and tight.
I walk, others notice, and I smile in confident delight.
Ah, life is good… endlessly stretched before me.
I’m really something… me and my new shoes.

Time passed and a parade of shoes shuffled out my door. Click To Tweet

Some stayed, some left, others forgotten on the closet floor.
Those who walked full circle with me, now only a precious few.
All, scuffed, broken and mended… well past their days of new.

They carried and supported me along the unmarked roads.
Danced, paced, and stumbled, beneath life’s heavy loads.
Their worn, faded leather absorbed the cold sweat of my fears
As joys and sorrows, hopes and dreams… unfolded through the years.

One day soon the old shoes and I will rest quietly, cold and still.
No more to dance, to dare, to dream, or remember the wintery chill
From those who never really knew how cautiously I’d stepped
Through the sullen shadows of my youth to a life so carefully kept.
New shoes for the passing things… good for walks in sunshine.
But old shoes to stay the end course… steady, true and fine.

~ C L Gillmore ~

 

My Old Shoes

Old shoes from Iowa City days… Gary, Cos, Mike, Me, Sandi, and Dale.

 

My Old Shoes

Common Bond

Common Bond

 

Common Bond

 

The shadowed streaks of twilight slip silently away
And tuck behind the mountains to mark another day.
Now leaving just the night sounds to whisper and remind
Of magical trips and trusted friends, lost and left behind.

To a time when only dreams had the power to transcend
And bring us together, beyond the unrest, one by one as friends.
Kindred souls, sharing a moment, bound by love and freedom.
Moved by the words and music…we danced to a different drum.

Those days and nights are forever etched deep within my heart.
I see their faces, hear their voices, though so many years apart.
Their love and friendship, counsel and humor, are a part of what I say.
And nudge me now so gently with thoughts I write each day.

I wish I would have realized those many years ago
Our moment was just an instant in the lives we were to know.
I could have brushed a farewell kiss as I gazed into each face.
But one by one, we left not knowing we had shared our last embrace.

~ C L Gillmore ~

Common Bond

Bits and Pieces

Working in my office this morning

on a series of blog posts entitled,

“Bits and Pieces”

Bits and Pieces

Bits and Pieces

 

Bits and Pieces

A Behind the Scenes Writing Perspective From Author and Poet, C. L. Gillmore.

 

These blogs will provide the platform for future speaking presentations.

 

I’ve filled my office from top to bottom with “bits and pieces” from my life.

 

Collectively, they are the “tangible somethings” that go with the “intangible memories”… providing the inspiration that fuels my imagination and creativity as a writer.

 

Bits and Pieces

Wondrous Days

Wondrous Days

Wondrous Days

~ by C. L. Gillmore

 

Fingers quieted on the keyboard, her eyes, immediately drawn
To the brilliant blue horizon, heightened by the setting sun.
Sapphire skies etch and frame the rugged, layered mountains
That tower, stretch, and silently soar beyond the closed front door.
How could she not have noticed these wondrous days before?

Drifting through life’s ebbs and flows, somehow he’d gotten lost
To the simple, timeless beauty of the things that mattered most.
An innocent touch soothed and calmed a lost and damaged soul
With unselfish love he had to know, she’d find her way and go.
How could he not have noticed those wondrous days before?

Defying time and explanation, the closed doors have opened
To the past, present, and future where dreams, at last, can mend.
Dreams that help the heart to heal and permit the soul to soar
By allowing time to temper, to bend, and sanction hope again.
How could they not have noticed these wondrous days before?

 

Wondrous Days

Listen, Look, and Remember

Listen, Look, and Remember

Listen, Look, and Remember

~ C L Gillmore

Weep not, cry not, do not grieve for me—my soul at last runs free.
My immortal spirit, unbound soul, forever young will be.

Scattered, wind-blown ashes now faded and unseen
Gently dance across well-worn paths and mark where I have been.
Imprints faintly left in place that help recall to heart and mind
A lifetime of hopes, dreams and clutter now stilled and left behind.

Listen for me on quiet early mornings as soft ripples fall
Upon the shore as hawks glide and soar gracefully over all.
Look for me in the whispered glow of a sultry summer night
As the waning light of a brilliant sunset fades quietly out of sight.
Remember me as winter’s laced, gray fingers secret away the sun
And sprinkle icy snowflakes on an eager, outstretched tongue.

As ageless winds gently sweep the passing of time and season,
You’ll feel my touch upon your face and know beyond all reason
That every life, yours and mine, becomes a unique, entwined endeavor.
Leaving precious memories as eternal reminders that life goes on forever.

Weep not, cry not, do not grieve for me—my soul at last runs free.
My immortal spirit, unbound soul, forever young will be.

Listen, Look, and Remember

Silver and Gold

Silver and Gold

 

Silver and Gold

 

 

 

Shepherd in the new, usher out the old
One shines silver, the other glows gold.

Seasons once passed at a gentle pace,
But soon rush by like a downhill race.
The dreams and schemes of yesterday
Trail on the wind as legacy.

Oh, bittersweet days of lost Decembers,
Moments we begged never to remember
The faces and places of what was to be.
Now pray to recall each memory.

Spring stirs ‘neath winter’s gray covers,
Hope awakens summer and quietly hovers.
The tears and fears from every sorrow
Strengthen us now so others may borrow.

Shepherd in the new, usher out the old
One shines silver, the other glows gold.

~ C. L. Gillmore ~

 

Silver and Gold

Eternal Reflections . . .

 Eternal Reflections . . .

Eternal Reflections . . .
I watched as another new year slid quietly into place
Bumping out the old one painlessly and leaving not a trace.
Joys, loneliness and precious, precious time were simply just erased,
And now have joined my back road memories to cherish and embrace.
If someone would have told me just how quickly life slides by
I might have chosen differently, giving other paths a try.
But life is born of endless details and other dreams just simply die
A painless and unnoticed death. No time to mourn or cry.
I’ve given life and given love as much as I had within me.
And deep inside I’ll always be that restless soul who runs free.
Who knows a single lifetime is not enough to dream, to love, to be.
For the human soul that dwells within us all was created for eternity.

 

Eternal Reflections . . .

Stitched together…

CL Gillmore

 

“I like flaws and am most comfortable around those who have them. I, myself, am made up entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.” ~Augusten Burroughs

Read more @ clgillmore.com/blog

Your tombstone stands among the rest

CL Gillmore

“Your tombstone stands among the rest;
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiseled out
On polished, marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care.
It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist.
You died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you
In flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
One hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.”

~Walter Butler Palmer, 1906~

Read more @ clgillmore.com/blog