Rainlight drifts across the glass compass,
each drop a small, shimmering world
s
l
i
d
i
n
g
down the curve of its crystal face.
I watch the needle tremble,
turning a fraction with every silver touch,
as if the rain remembers old directions
I once trusted.
I breathe in the soft gray brightness,
feeling it gather at my throat,
a coolness that steadies me
in ways I didn’t expect.
The air carries a stillness shaped by distance
and the familiar warmth of wet earth~
the kind that makes mefeel less alone.
Puddles gather their quiet rhythm,
and I hear it the way I hear myself
on days when my thoughts finally soften~
a rhythm that feels like gentle wonder
learning how to speak.
I turn once, then again~
slowly, deliberately
my breath easing with the motion,
my chest loosening a little,
and the horizon shifts,
offering a muted glow
that feels almost like an answer.
It was a late August summer day, very hot
We went for a hike, wandered and lost our way
We often wonder why we got lost and forgot
It was almost a night that we didn’t want to stay
We walked for hours in the woods before nightfall
If we were still lost that night, we had no plans
We then heard a bark and saw him, robust and tall
A lab with a blue- collar came over and licked our hands
He barked and ran back and forth in front of us
We decided to follow him, maybe he knew the trail
We ended up at the ranger’s station and finally home
We found our compass that day, better than a phone
He was part of the search and rescue ranger crew
He was our rescue angel and named compass too
Poetry Wheel Challenge:
Theme: Journey
Emotion: Wonder
Color: Blue
Season: Late Summer
Form: Sonnet
Object: Compass
Verb: Wander
Created using the PoetrySoup Poetry Wheel.
I wandered out beneath late-summer skies,
a blue so wide it felt like open thought.
The road before me stretched in quiet sighs,
inviting me toward places wonder sought.
A compass rested lightly in my hand,
its needle trembling as if it could feel
the pull of distant paths across the land~
those whispered routes the heart keeps half-concealed.
I followed where it pointed, mile by mile,
past fields still holding sunlight in their seams,
each turn a question, each new step a smile
that rose like wind through half-remembered dreams.
And when the day leaned softly into night,
my wandering felt shaped by blue-tinged light.
I am a proud American,
Nothing more, nothing less,
No tags to wear,
No labels to confess.
I am not blind to history,
Nor unaware of our mistakes.
Like nations older than our own,
We've known the risks that failure makes.
Yet through the trials of our past,
We learned, endured, and found a way.
To rise above our broken roads
And build a stronger path each day.
History is not a chain to drag,
Nor a script we must obey.
It is a compass in our hands,
To guide us forward on our way.
I know what this country means to me,
A truth no one can redefine.
Not by titles, not by degrees,
Nor by a different view than mine.
So let me stand where I believe,
Without demands that I conform.
Leave me be, and walk in peace,
No anger, only calm and warmth.
For I am a proud American,
Nothing more, nothing less;
A citizen of hope and freedom,
Without a need for anything else.
I’m just an American, and proud to be!
By James C. Chapman
“a heartbeat pulsating as living light
free from each and every limitation
I Am that dwelling in unbound delight
the source wherefrom arises creation”
My compass is set:
Forward alignmed by faith through grace.
I do not control life’s challenges,
but I command my response.
I am that I live for my purpose,
not for the world’s praise.
I do not bend;
I do not break;
I do not look back.
I am that, I am of a human sponge,
Whom listens, observers and absorbs lifes lessons and learn from its mistakes!
For this is my creed!
Sailing home to England
o'er the bounding main
oh to see those white cliffs
fields of green and feel the rain again
sailed away for a year and a day
an albatross following t'was a good sign
with wings wide-spread overhead
'tween tropics weather was fair all was fine
sailors know where the trade winds blow
and trust their compass true
but my days a'roving the briny deep are now done
I'm rolling down a rhumb line arc to you
Gratia et Veritas
Our conscience bears witness
(in the way thoughts are excused)
Our conscience bears witness
(in the way actions are accused)
Our conscience bears witness
(though inner self bemused)
Our conscience bears witness
(through God’s grace unabused)
NO COMPASS OR ANCHOR
….At sea
also known as my life, I drift.
I dream of wanting to have a
plan but I don’t. Letting down
people, not quite grasping
opportunities.
For I am a
non-commissioned
ensign of a boat in a storm lost
without its compass
or anchor.
I have passion and the drive
however I am fettered to a
chunk of seaweed.
It smells. It rots.
It becomes a part of me.
Oh the distant sunrise of a new day
is so far on the horizon it may as well be a grain of sand.
Small, minuscule, measly and insignificant.
Just like my remains of a past plan
long ago stranded on a desert island.
At sea also known as my life,
I drift….
Compass
a direction
I should take with my heart
letting it lead me to my love
journey
Reflections on the world's direction
~ empty pages
my precise compass points to innermost heart
a microcosmic myrtle of macrocosm art
I journey inward this core, where lies my
Tree of Life ____
tasting amber resonance of Self’s sap
it cradles spirit, now a blissed viburnum
spaceless space kisses,
olive is ocarina enchanting,
enthralling, embracing
earth and heaven ~ discerning,
lemon heathered ____a garden
Core imbues form with ineffable frequencies
elusive is a holly terminal
spirit discerns tree’s essence,
agape agapanthus caped appears
belled garden knows
own’s every oak throb
benevolent bonafide biome,
pulsing life force
animating Being’s fluids
in pond stillness
translucent lotus opens
sublime perfumed
destination to heart core costs zilch
no other station can compare !
A fire, a fire,
It’s burning me.
I scream as I fall to the ground,
Writhing, growling, twisting in pain,
Sprawled across the floor,
My body a map of ache
That never leaves.
The burns run too deep,
And when the heat grows unbearable,
It almost feels cool.
Hearing my cries, they come running,
Faces frantic,
Hands reaching,
But there is no fire to smother,
No flame to put out.
Only me,
Collapsing into my own invisible inferno,
Tears spilling,
For a pain no one else can see,
A pain that consumes,
Devours,
Burns without light.
And they just stand there,
Watching as I writhe,
Helpless before the blaze
That lives only inside.
When storm clouds gather
overshadow the sun
and darkness overwhelms
has me on the run
I look on you as the lodestone
to a sense of calm serenity
see you as a compass of my own
to a place of quiet tranquility
when hard times follow
in the wake left behind
and troubles overtake
only to remind
in a yearning world
with all its sadness
and is out of joint
on a burning world
in all its madness
you are the still point
“The Path towards REMEMBERING is not for the weak. It is priceless. Move inwards, without faltering & know that you are held.” Poet
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
journey within is strewn with jagged edges
and jewels
both can lead to detours
walking a straight and narrow path one
traverses own jungle untamed
lame sometimes becomes our resolve
not to forge ahead beyond crags or rags
is not an option once undertaking begins
screams may merge with songs or dreams
cream alongside starvation or salvation
a luminous beckoning lighthouse at end of tedium slogs hold us steady
often makes us heady
in solitude with faith we need make no haste
knowingness with Heart’s compass surely
keeps us safe
neither hazard or hurdle makes us curdle
Soul the master of destined fate never late
to turn cherished key into jewelled Home
within is majestic prize to win
Am I wrong?
Always drifting left when the world turns right,
Like a compass drawn to storms instead of light.
Am I wrong?
For trusting the beat of my own internal song,
Even if silence is the chorus all along.
I move to the rhythm only I hear,
Not chasing thrill rides they hold dear.
I'm not blind,
I’m just tuned to a different spark,
Finding sunrise even when I walk through dark.
At times I'm alone, that's the price I pay,
But solitude sings in a deeper way.
Am I wrong?
For believing in my hands to shape the clay,
Carving a path no one dared to lay.
Knowing I’ve got to lead and do my part,
Even if the march begins with a solo heart.
Am I Wrong?
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