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JOURNEY TO WHOLENESS, A Collection Of Poetry
It is an eclectic collection of poetry, written as a diary, revealing the emotions and seeking of one woman's soul. (From cover blurb)
'Journey To Wholeness, A Collection Of Poetry' written by Cynthia A. Butterworth, is being published through Three Moons Media. It will hopefully be available to order through Book Surge and other venues, it's in the production stages now.
It is my confessional as well as my heart.I'm extremely blest that it's going to be in print and I'm thankful for it. May anyone that reads my poetry find some beauty there.
The collection is separated into eight sections:
AUTUMN'S SHADOW
BENEATH THE SILENCE
BLOODY PUREE
BED OF ASHES
HOWEVER LUCID
BEHOLDING HEAVEN
ECLECTIC FLOW
Here are the first few poems from each section of the book:
From the section, AUTUMN'S SHADOW:
LONELY NIGHTS
I slowly slipped into
My dancing boots
And worked through the knots
In my hair.
Smothered my curvy lips
With the darkest red
I could find,
And told them I would meet
Them all there.
I found the shadowed entrance
And I parked too far away.
I walked slowly beneath the dark sky
Whose bright stars were interrupted
By the busy street lights.
I raised my head to the night,
And the moon hid its face from me.
I felt I should to cry, I wanted to cry,
But my heart became as cold and rigid
As the concrete beneath my heavy steps.
-UNTITLED-
EMPTINESS IS MEANS OF SLEEP,
IN BLESSEDNESS then may you keep,
HALLOWED YOUR HOLLOW be.
From the section, BENEATH THE SILENCE:
-UNTITLED-
My voice was trapped, Silent.
The words from within
Were caught
Beneath the flesh of my throat.
There were no words
To be found for you,
Nothing was left
Of their hope.
Thru the swirls of smoke
I can see you
The shadow of what we were
And we can no longer be.
-UNTITLED-
My hands broke
With the skin split open,
The day I stopped myself
From fulfilling the rage
I had set upon you.
But I ceased the battle,
That you loved,
And slipped away in the midst
Of your grooming.
From the section, BLOODY PUREE:
INTRODUCTIONS
No one knows what everyone holds,
And no one cares to be held anymore.
No flowing ebb, no golden rose.
No more resistance to call upon the old.
No bold, no brave; no freeing of slaves.
No empty caskets whispering the bliss
Of immortality.
The empty graves are covered in mud,
and the dead got lost
while trying to get out.
MORNING OF THE UNDEAD
On weakened, thorny, crutch I'd step
To buried caves where dead men slept.
Till finally my back did break
Beneath my torrid, burnt skin's weight.
On eve of finding my buried grave,
Life Arose!
and claimed me its Slave.
From the section, BED OF ASHES:
FALLEN
Empty pages, washed in gray
Let me smile my tears away.
Empty chorus, songs now lost
Carry me from lonely frost.
All throughout this lonesome night,
Following stars
cried dust for me,
As I mourned with all my might.
I whispered my prayers softly,
they fell into
small pale dew drops.
The morning woke me gently.
I will rise once again,
As the bitter day's friend.
And fall again the same night,
Until the dawning of light.
ABSENCE
I weave together portions of my life,
without indifference,
to each absence.
And will not suffer
The coldness and pain.
Had this journey,
Led my heart into strife?
Through macabre nonsense
Of the silence,
To a shadow
Of my darkness and shame.
But even through the hardest
Moments in my time
I knew that there was a pure light
That dwells inside.
From the section, HOWEVER LUCID:
MY BEST EFFORTS
I found myself
The other day,
Behind a mask
of glassAnd macrame'.
How did I get this way?
Left on a shelf
Gone to decay,
In a fishbowl,
Some hole.
This heavy grave
Is weighing more each day.
Now that I've found
I'm on display,
This teetering
Cracking,
Pedestal is
About to come crashing. . .
-UNTITLED-
Urgency rubbed its harsh flesh
Against my troubles
And ever-gnawing worry.
REGULATIONS
The law followed me here,
Banning the sensations
Of my Lovers poem and prose.
I watched in silent horror,
When they struggled
To restrain it,
Left it smothered and buried deeply.
Still alive, it would not die.
The last I saw,
The fires were choking in the mud.
From the section, BEHOLDING HEAVEN:
DEEPLY
Cycles of pain renew their breath
as they circle about my door,
They are Silent echoes
I can only feel their sound.
Declarations of whispered pains
are the decorations on my door,
It is not without its beauty,
Such is the passage to my soul.
GLORY IN HIM
As I breath with the wind
my soul breaks its chains.
The sun reaches for my quivering skin.
He strokes my face and wipes away my tears,
with forgiveness,
with love.
His reassuring rays,
allow a moment of His glory and grace.
Despite my morbid pity and pain,
He fills me with joy, again and again.
From the section, ECLECTIC FLOW:
EPITATH
For me,
I will seek a peaceful life
soft and meditative
I will long to lay among the whispers
of kindness of thought
and allow the shadows
of the thick trees
to cover me.
May I not suffer
to be refused their covering
Let me not be misled
from the guidance that remains
in my grasp.
May I not be forgotten.
May I not be swallowed in the drifts of time
that so quickly has left others
to be lost in the eternal sea
of oblivion.
It is here that I will remain
even if to the eyes of this world,
I fall nameless and numb,
My name will forever burn within me.
May the moon cradle me in the night
And the sun show me mercy
and warm me with its beauty
by day.
The skies be kind unto me.
Let the Earth be gentle.
I will lay in the banks of clouds
above the rushing sea
And the fields that crawl toward the mountains.
May the glory of the earth give all its glory to God.
May God forever forgive me my sins.
I will rest in the place of grace and not wander from it.
I will rest in peace.
My name will reside within me.
It is not lost,
I have not forgotten it.
Kindness and love echo
their waves create strengths untold
for no lips can explain their power
no man’s will can challenge their worth
and be correct in his rebellion.
May I know wisdom
the door to it be revealed to my hand
So that it can be opened in my day
And let no man close it from me.
Barriers cease your struggles,
let the mountains grant passage.
stars have been everlasting
but let the cage recognize itself
and judge its true purpose and worth
Let it judge whether or not
it should break itself down
and allow the newborn to be whole.
Allow me this
That I will live
And that life
should not be interrupted
should not be destroyed
will not crushed beneath the weight
of all that tries to destroy.
Hail, Hail to the four corners of the Earth
To all the mysteries I’ve seen,
I will not give birth.
--Or perhaps that is spoken in haste.
I will wait, I will wait, I will wait.
More Personal Notes:
The sections themselves are not in chronological order, partially within each section perhaps, but not entirely or intentionally... if so, most of BLOODY PUREE and EDGE OF DREAMS would have been first. Then would about half of HOWEVER LUCID and from there the last several years have been evenly spread throughout the other poetry sections.
--But not all poems in those three sections are entirely from my youth, as not all the poetry from my youth are confined to those sections and subjects. There are both fairly new and very old poems in almost every section.
I tried to gather the poems together by their subject and feel... Of course, I'm sure some of my poems feel that I've misplaced them, but we'll all get over it. ;)
I am so very grateful to have this book published, I can't explain how much of a dream come true this is for me. I am currently working on a compilation of short stories, memoirs, and poetry. I'm also working on a novel, the working title is RED CANDLES (I also write in the venue of screenplays, for which I have an agent, and hopefully things will progress in that area). My goal, or "Dream" you might say, is to be finacially able to quit my day job and support myself solely from my writting. I hoping for that to happen in two years time... Faith can accomplish all things! May it be.
More Personal Notes:
I told my very close friend Angela that she was the only name of an actual person in my life mentioned in this book. Aside from 'my parents', 'my sisters' (actual and figuratively meant at separate times), 'the Blonde', 'my brother', and several a 'Friend', everyone else lays unknown in a pool of drowning 'He, She, They' and the like. ...I think I may have changed an individuals name once or twice to write about them, but I'm not sure.
So my friend Angela, whose name is mentioned in the poem MOON CHILD, is the only named person in this book (that I remember at this moment anyway).
I will adding to this page, doing cleap-up, etc. Please forgive any over looked spelling and grammar errors that have been missed and any lack of information that I should have offered. Thank you for reading this site and for your interest in my poetry.
*The poetry posted here are samples from the poetry collection 'Journey To Wholeness, A Collection Of Poetry' and are written by Cynthia A. Butterworth. Artwork on this site is used by permission from Artist, Shalimar Butterworth, and is included in the poetry collection. All artwork contained within the book 'JOURNEY TO WHOLENESS, A Collection Of Poetry' is used by permission by the artists (and in some cases was supplied specifically for the book).
Three Moons Media
Book Surge
Send E-Mail to: godties@cs.com
Copyright © 2002 Cynthia A. Butterworth. All Rights Reserved