Where is the real place of safety
Inside these walls, or deep within
I am a wandering migratory spirit
Below the radiance of a far-off star
From chasing shadows, a hasty escape
To outrunning anxieties in the last of the light
Even if the past may haunt us in a faint whisper
We must fearlessly go forward
Maybe a sanctuary, constructed of oneself
An inner wealth, a quiet strength
Or in a community, a shared comfort
In the embrace of kindred care
Look out, reach out, let hands connect
No fear can destroy this tapestry
Because our spirits heal in this link
Until the very end, a haven was found
© daniel miltz
Heartstrings Lyrics By Ron VanHooser
I can recall moments now lost in time,
Long before meeting, I knew you were mine.
I’m from Kansas. My name is Dorothy Gale.
I could weave for you a fantastic tale
about farmhands, a twister, and a floating abode;
flying monkeys, little people, and a yellow brick road;
a wizard and witches and old, yet new, friends;
ruby slippers, little Toto, and how the magic all ends
when the needy at last see they’ve had all along
what they thought they were lacking and then became strong.
I could tell how the clicking of heels took me home,
for there’s no place like home. I have no need to roam.
But instead of creating a long narrative,
I’ll just say from my heart how much I love to live
on a farm here in Kansas with people who care.
The great lesson I’ve learned, I am happy to share:
a trip over the rainbow was not what I needed.
A hard bump on the head led to wisdom I heeded.
When I came to--surrounded by those I love best,
I at last realized I am gloriously blessed.
With Borrowed Faces in a Place
We are turning around with no faces,
Just in cases.
Heaven in our places,
Just two faces.
Screaming out so everyone hears our bases,
We can't hide our faces.
But truth still chases
Through hidden mazes.
Slow and smoky phrases.
Now we are visible - with our borrowed faces.
Time erases.
There are no traces.
We are turning around with no faces,
Just in cases.
Heaven in our places,
Just two faces.
Lyrics By Lin Lane
Seems like yesterday I watched your fingers
play the piano, and heard your music unfold.
In memories, the romantic vision of us lingers,
though love's symphony dulled like tarnished gold.
When we were together, you wrote for me,
songs you scored day and night to compose
of the passion between an oak and willow tree,
Lyrics sweet as the fragrant scent of a rose.
Chorus:
But your love wilted like a flower
whose leaves lie withered on the keys.
My heart is wounded and I've no power
to make the miserable ache inside of it ease.
Tender notes on sheet music, ripped and torn.
No longer sung for they bring pain and grief,
stabbing me like a rose's sharpest thorn.
From loss of yesterday's passion there's no relief.
Can time erase the memories I fear won't fade?
Traces of us and what use to be linger in me.
I sway as if slayed by a dagger, and I'm afraid
that from the ghost of you, I'll never be free.
Chorus:
Your love wilted like a flower
whose leaves lie withered on the keys.
My heart is wounded and I've no power
to make the miserable ache inside of it ease.
When the mind stops, blank without thought,
It goes to a place of sanity sought.
For sanity is to chaos’ distain,
That place where silence and calm are gain.
It’s from this place of quiet and calm,
That peace can bring a healing balm.
As soothing as a soft cool breeze,
This time of peace will surely please.
It’s here when lavished in such pleasure,
One gets a grasp of life’s measure.
This may not be the only way,
But it is available most any day.
Here a new direction the mind will seek,
A way to live well and be unique.
My Mind Place
stand with me here
i wish to take you to my
mind place
it is my secret friend
since 1953
together
we scanned the harvest skies
heard distant harmonica melodies
far away
seeking white teeth exhalations
and perfumed eyes
together
we peered in wonder to the waxing west
to the east and to the north
the tremolo places grinning ascendant
above jealous flowers swaying naked
inside the mad sweet swirl
of luscious winds we did see
pastel visions of the dead
inside green ghost rooms
electrified
my shadow
aglow
and bobbing
all directions from the same place
don’t lead to the same place
that’s why you’re a butterfly
and I, a moth, but one family
the abandoned lawn
but I care about you
you need to know your battles
and how to choose your directions
Memories from childhood summers
still tickling my stomach
Through overgrown paths
Red painted farmhouse
where flowers and weeds grew in harmony
It seems as yesterday, but it is long ago
Outbuilding with a heart on the door
Didn't exactly smell as roses
A carefree shed, with photographs
of the royal family on the wall
You don't wipe yourself behind with
the head of the country
With padlocks and cracked beams
that filtered the daylight (and odor)
Silent testimony
the time when life was different
Shoulder to shoulder in the struggle for existence
with teamwork and brotherhood
to achieve a common goal
The feeling of community in all simplicity
Childhood memories
not only smell of venerable dust,
outbuildings or weeds
but brings along
an atmosphere of ancient wisdom
School was out, setting her free in summer -
free to tell friends bye, be lonely and cry.
Tears would spill for a best friend of one year
who she had learned would in time forget her.
Most teens knew same place and faces through school.
Military brats do not live that truth.
Summer would decide her joy for school's start.
Parents choose suburbs, not an army base,
to be this year's school and friends starting place.
She hoped the house was in a neighborhood
with teens her same age to share summer skies,
then fall, winter and spring for her next page.
I'll be waiting quietly
Back behind the scenes
In case, perhaps it's meant to be
That we live out those dreams
I'll still be up most half the night
Thinking hard and long
And in my mind 'twill in my sight
See Bluebird singing songs
Reading books I think you'd like
Each year one more in sum
Talking to you while I bike*
You never knew that one
Everything will be just fine
Worry not for me
Regardless if the us be mine
Or not, we'll wait and see
*Secret
Here's account of pleasure past,
As through it we are taken,
Not our eye but by our souls
Our memories past awaken,
Untouched, unchanged, vaults of time,
Will always remain unshaken,
For if it is that moment nears
To make a choice and change the years,
Defining who you are in here
The answer's never, ever, fear.
Lost in woe for thee we mourn,
We do not ask, we are not torn,
We only see the light anew,
In our hearts,
A special place for you.
we all have that one place
a creepy feeling
neck hairs stand at attention
we are reluctant to go down there or up there
for some it is a basement, for others, an attic or alley
pay attention to your emotions.
It might save your life
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