Witnessing a Miracle

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Romantic, Spiritual

When I fell into wonder,
there was a moment when I thought of you.
Your eyes shining light through the darkness,
piercing the shadows covering my heart,
the very essence of who I am,
helping me believe the truth,
of who I need to be.

Your truth, the essence of beauty,
the illusion of life dispelled,
by knowing what perfection is,
the knowledge I care more for you,
than I do myself, making me hopeless,
beyond the common understanding,
I find myself believing.

Sometimes we smell the roses

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems

A blissful arrangement, life collected as if purposely grown.
Perfect artistry, naturally ingenuous, dreamy petals soft as silk.
Distinguished charm, reminiscent scent of vibrant allure.
Color, bold and intoxicating, graceful as a rainbow.
Flowers reach not for the essence of living today,
but for the survival of hope, of lifelong destiny.
fated to grow strong with enduring faith,
as they stretch towards the sun,
Outstretched and thriving.
Waiting for purpose,
of meaningful
emotion.

Afraid of the Dark

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Survival

When I was a kid, I was afraid of the dark. You wonder as an adult, if there are monsters you imagine in life, or if life is simply something that details the playing shadows of night. Sometimes we grow over them, sometimes we don’t. As life went on, I knew the things worth being scared of were the things you could see. My imagination couldn’t hold a flame to the horrors of society or the reality of the world.

Afraid of the Dark.

I tried to remember how beautiful things were,
before the gray rain filled the sky,
bringing such a subtle feeling across my face.
as there was no dream left in slumber,
just breathing it’s life into my own,
keeping me adrift in a land of chaotic taste.
I saw, feeling as blindly as only I could,
as my thoughts hoped and beheld,
before a moment when my eyes fell open,
and my hands, without strength, failed me.
I fought, not as if I had purpose, but faith,
pushing myself against moments of passing,
watching the clouds darken above me,
as the chill of night crept into my heart.
I ran, faster than a pace I could carry,
finding that I was alone with all my fears.

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http://www.trueloveofcoffee.com

Spiritual Passion

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Spiritual

Character has no path, except for the moment when one becomes aware.
As if life, the evolution of desire and hope, cares not for being average.
Tomorrow may need to find this body surrendered and cast down,
Yet I will find the improvement, here and now, as I build my soul’s abode.

Character is the effort we take to learn our triumphs and our failures,
It is the second we find out what we are made of, so that we may define all else.
The search for our passion, of indiscretion and of wanting desire.
Minutes of faithful love destined to be contrasted by heartfelt agony.

Character is our perfect fortune in life, a treasure that only one may possess.
It is a parody of everything, the very symbol of our actions and our beliefs.
The wealth of having all we need as we question each answer, and move forward.
This is not dreaming, it is of prosperity and respect, for yourself and all others.

Character is war, where victory is destined to happiness, hopeful and prosperous.
When failure is a challenge to your very survival, begging for mercy that may never appear.
It is a conquest of worlds fought by every spirit, striving every unfaltering step of the way,
As we learn to take each movement further, without looking back, to become ourselves.

**********************************

Daily writing, a little bit of life.

Posted by Barry Hurd in Author's Favorites, Daily thoughts

I was listening to the sounds of laughter, voices trying to entertain my thoughts as I wandered down the corridors of life in the city. I found myself browsing through the daily colors I was seeing, the attitude of the mysterious faces I passed by, and the mixture of opinions that were not my own.

So many thoughts. Beautiful, rampant, evolving. I didn’t know where each question began, or where each answer took me.

I sat down in a passive little cafe and ordered a mocha from a girl who didn’t know what life really had to offer. I could see it in her eyes- that her life was riding alongside of the recipes she muddled through, as if each beat of her own heart could be ordered with room for cream or tossed into a cup of ice… chilled to the bone.

I sat quietly in the corner booth, slowly sipping on my warm drink and finding myself slightly lost in sweet decadence… pondering the people that stood in line and patiently waited for something to add flavor to a rather boring morning.

Each and every one was different, from the professional man dressed in a two thousand dollar suit who checked his watch fifteen times to the young mother who held her infant son snug against her chest.

Unfortunately for them, the flavor they were seeking in a morning beverage could never bridge the gap they were seeking to fill. They needed life, raw and uncut, with fear and love, passion and loss, the need to embrace every single opportunity with appreciation and yearning.

Thirty-seven people later I had witnessed what felt like every flavor of the world.

I thought to myself… “what do I know?”

Definitely not everything. I know the flavor, I know the basic steps, but I do not know how the young girl across the counter is going to create my experience. I do not if I will sit alone in the corner booth or if I will gladly smile at the wonderfully interesting man sitting next to me and strike up a conversation about his war-torn briefcase or the way he sips his own morning experience this day.

I do know, that rather than leave this day in peaceful and inquisitive enlightenment… that I will instead walk up to the counter and order a black cup of coffee, that I will pause for a moment, and buy the next three people in line a cup of whatever they feel they need.

In life- the lesson is simple for me. The best things are free and the truest cost is only your perception.

***********************************************

I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend.

Sometimes, I feel like the year.

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts

I asked the winter sleep, biting my tongue
As sweet drops of spring fell,
and lost themselves to summer’s memory.
I wondered if I could feel passion
the lasting lust of forever
gracing my spirit like winter’s embrace.

If only for one second, not frozen
the question could be answered,
that I would be warm, hopeful.
I would find myself tenderly falling
comforted by my lover’s dreams,
the sweet sound of our hidden desires,
like leaves on the wind.

If to ask but just one question,
That I find peaceful transformation
With perfect faith of knowing,
when my sun would blaze again,
a brilliance breaking the horizon.
I would ask the winter; no beg,
for the warmth of spring’s return.

And like all great seasons,
That I become lost again, waiting,
purposely falling and raising again,
reaching for the stars and the moon,
of my hopes and dreams,
As I witness my revolution,
of being complete.

Lost Friends

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Dedicated Poems, Friendship

I wrote a total of thirty pieces this weekend, mostly wandering around the river and talking to friends. It was a good weekend to sit back and relax, listen to the river and the drums, and to remember what life is all about. By saturday night I had nearly lost my voice, but I managed to pull off at least a few melodies for the camp.

To The Troll

Lost friends,

When I was a child,
with a creative heart
full of youthful fantasy
and things you could not see
You were my friend,
The grumpy old troll,
to which I was not scared.
For you made me laugh
and made me believe
in friends like you and me.
As I step, one stride at a time,
I remembered that rhyme
whispered from beneath my feet.
It made me wonder and feel
to know friends could be so real.
So when I grow up without growing old,
I will not forget, you have my word.
Nay regret as I reach the end,
This question I have, I am not scared
Could I afford, my carefree friend,
would you let me cross your bridge again?

Last Stand

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Honor, Survival

Last Stand

In paradise, we find the most reward
The light of hope and of morning resurrection,
Of daring that we, above all else,
Are the chosen few who must survive.
The land, from rolling hills to perfect ocean shores,
Is the vision to which we will wake,
We will seek our destiny, with laughter and humility,
Against the fury of breaking waves,
As our spirits pound against the swords of man,
And our honor finds itself spoken only in passing.
The trial of our lives, the question of our existence
Found only in moments of recollection
By those who would be our family,
Without ever having embraced us in hand,
But owing us everything in heart.
The very trial of our existence, our very purpose,
Written into history, by our actions and our beliefs.
To be remembered and embraced,
Fueling our passion in such sacrifice,
That we, the few, have given our lives.

Flight of an Angel

Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Dreams, Spiritual

In a lonely place, I said farewell
No longer could I dwell,
And I left no sign of personal relation
As divine words, became my hope of salvation
No trace on these crimson skies
Just thoughts chiseled within the question why.
Days of failing memory,
Distant things I cannot convey.

The stemmed roses in a field of dream,
Reminded me of things no one else saw.
One more step, I tell myself
That my spirit survives and will never fall
That I must carry my faith alone,
My aching heart, perfect in itself,
Weighing more than any would know.
As I questioned my body, my need of believing,
In something that even I could never see.

Should I wander, the wonder of my life
May it be that I will go, to leave this lonely place.
That your wings carry me when I fade,
I am away, perhaps not this day, but in feelings I must stay
That I never question, nor should I ponder,
This path I find within your eyes,
No I will not ask, no I will not forget,
For my thoughts simply remember beautiful,
And you, my angel, taught me how to fly.