​Of all the things
Which have ever been written
That would change
A person’s life,
Or make a lasting impression,
 
May these words
Find their place
And be welcomed.
 
May the sound of them
Bring Joy, delight to the ears
Which hear them--
Really  hear them.
 
May their fragrance
Be as blossoms
Upon the Peach Tree
Drifting thru fresh spring air.
 
These words from our Father:
“Cannot but love you,
For you are my Creation,
Of my own thought, and making.
Truly a beauty to behold.”
 
Carolyn L. Sorrell – Copyright 2004 – All Rights Reserved

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Time of the Hickory Sky
 
My life covered with a Hickory Sky
Quite beautiful, but hard, dense, unyielding
No light of joy able to edge its way through
And now the broken child, living under the Hickory Sky
Healed by the Father’s Great Loving Hand
Able to smile again
Able to laugh and find joy in small moments.

Remnants of the Hickory Sky fell on me,
Losing their power as they fell.
I stepped out from under their bareness
To gaze up into open heavens of azure blue.
 
Copyright© Carolyn L. Sorrell – All Rights Reserved
 


LIFE WENT ON
 
The wind, it rustles the leaves
Of that cottonwood,
The one where I buried you
In cold, hard ground
Away from those you loved.
 
The snow, it covers your tomb,
But I still come to stand over you,
Watching robins
On branches above, twitter and sing.
 
The sun,
It beats down
Scorching the earth
That covers you,
Baking the sod.
 
But still I come,
And stand over you,
And speak in low whispers
Telling you about the kids.
And how they’ve grown.
 
Asking you to tell me
What it’s like where you are.
Is it wonderful?
Remarkable, dazzling?
Majestic beyond words?
 
When can I come and join you?
My heart is there already.
I have no words to describe
My sorrow that life went on
Without you.
 
Carolyn L. Sorrell – Copyright September 2005 – All Rights Reserved
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ONE WITH THE CLOUDS
 
I need to be one
With the Clouds today.
The Beauty and Wonder
Of the Sky must flood my Soul.
 
Soft heavenly shapes
Must invade my lonely
Broken Heart today.
 
They will push their way in…
Those lovely, gray silhouettes…
And remove the darkness
That has resided there for so long.
 
Their softness will displace my rough edges
And I will be one with the clouds
And the gentleness I once knew
Shall return.
 
Carolyn L. Sorrell © Copyright February 2006 – All Rights Reserved

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O Firefly sunset…
What crimson streaks of beauty
Adorn your canvas sky
 
What liquid fragrance
Rare, Angelic…
Soars on gentle wing
 
God hath made thee
More stunning
Than Solomon’s gold,
 
More brilliant
Than all the diamonds
Of Africa.
 
Carolyn L. Sorrell © Copyright February 2006 – All Rights Reserved
 
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I see my life like
A virgin wrapped in a blanket of pure joy
 
I see my life like
Large raindrops falling on a pond
Splashing
 
I see my life like
A journey that ends and then begins anew
 
Where have these many years of seeking led me?
 What have I found at the end of the Rainbow?
 Was it worth it?
 
 April 17, 2011 1:29am

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I see my life like water
Falling off a tall cliff,
Gracefully descending
Into teal pools of liquid.
Formless crystal puddles,
Sparkling…at moments, so lovely.
 
I see my life like eddies of ocean foam;
Shall it form the shape of the clouds above?
Or shall it wash into the rocks and disappear?
 
I see my life like so many leaves
Fallen from autumn trees,
All golden and tan…
When is Spring?
 
C.L. Sorrell © May 24, 2009 – All Rights Reserved
 
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I see my life like
Water stirred
By Monsters
Emerging
Untold depths.
 
I see my life like
Distant smoke
Drifting across
Purple mountains;
A haze and no more.
 
I see my life like
Fountains
Springing up from the earth,
An underground pool
It’s source.
 
I see my life like
Clouds drifting
Lazily
Upon blue horizon.
 
A morning more perfect
Than the rest;
A day left without
Reckoning.

Carolyn L. Sorrell – Copyright 2004 – All rights Reserved

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I see my life like
Flashes of Light
And then Shadow
Fading in and out
Of focus.
 
I see my life like
Trees with withered leaves
On the south side
All bright green
To the north.
 
I see my life like
A poem that yearns to be spoken
That screams to be understood
And then falls to the ground
Unheard.
 
I see my life like
Candy…
Sticky, gooey
But not sweet –
Bitter.
 
 
November 28, 2008
 
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I see my life like…
Rains that fall
On mountaintops
Filling valleys to overflow.
 
I see my life like…
A Fire, out of control--
Strong, raging,
Damaging as it burns.
 
I see my life like…
Snow serenely falling
On dark, cold days
Blanketing the hills.
 
I see my life like…
Wind sweeping the earth
Tossing debris about,
Bringing tides of change.
 
Carolyn L. Sorrell – Copyright 2004 – All rights Reserved

Born at midnight
Music in the background
Tunes about forgiveness
Hate, love…shit like that.

Spanked on the butt
By God’s gracious hand,
I let out a scream
That echoed for days.

Born to horns,
Guitars and keyboards
Lovely notes that drift sweetly
Across white cotton sheets.

A melody from the Angels
Floating on clouds of blue
Keeping time with sparrow’s song
Filling the night air with beauty.

Go with the music--
Learned this at birth,
Whispered to me across eons
From God’s own lips.
“Follow the currents.
Don’t fight,” He said.

So I picked up my soul
And headed for His Voice.
And there I found Life,
More to the point—My own life,
Hardly worth the bother,
Yet I made the effort,
Whatever the reason--
Some mysteries are hard to solve.

Awoke in the morning
To streaming sunlight
Dancing upon white bedroom wall
Unkind night was gone.

Carolyn Sorrell copyright 2005-all rights reserved.

When I Die
Let my soul rise to the heavens
And meld with the music of dreamland.
Let my spirit swirl in shades of blue
Intertwined with the stars

When I die
May I take joy from the atmosphere
May I sense pain—but only briefly
May the Sun give my Eulogy,
May the moon bow in honor.

When I die
Do not mourn
My heart is finally at peace.
Rejoice instead and dance
Celebrate death’s release.

Copyright 2004 - Carolyn L. Sorrell – All Rights Reserved

Woman with Two Birthdays - Chapter One – 12.6.2012

I was four, maybe five.  Me and Daddy were in an old drug store.  It was dirty.  There were men sitting around in dingy booths with torn, plastic covers.  Cigars and cigarettes had been stamped out on the floor.  He had my hand and for that, I was grateful.

            It was the mid-fifties and we were in downtown Dallas, across the street from the old Greyhound Bus Station.  This was Dallas years before anyone ever heard of JFK or the assassination that made Dallas famous.  Dallas wasn’t much of a city then.  Oh, it was big enough, but not proud and mighty the way it is today. 

            All the drug stores in those days had a counter with those stainless steel barstools and yellow plastic covers.  They served malts and shakes in real glasses; heavy containers.  Daddy lifted me up and sat me on one of the bar stools. It felt like I was twenty feet in the air. He was asking me something.

            “Honey, can daddy buy you an ice cream cone?” Daddy smiled at me and then nodded to the guy behind the counter, a weathered old man in sagging trousers.  “Fred, bring this girl an ice cream cone.”

            Fred nodded back.  “What kind, Johnny?”

            “Bring her vanilla.”

            The deal was done.  The ice cream came promptly on a large cone.  At first lick I fell in love. There was certainly no greater pleasure on earth than ice cream.  The ball of ice cream, the cumbersome cone, they were difficult for a tiny four-year old hand to manage but I had become completely absorbed in those licks . . . one, and then another and then another.

Daddy and Fred discussed things too difficult for a little girl to grasp, something about football games and who would win. Money exchanged hands.

From behind me, Daddy’s big hands formed around my waist.  “Time to go, honey,” he was saying as he lifted me high and swung me around.

Just then a tragedy of mammoth proportions occurred:  the ball of ice cream fell off the cone.  Kersplat!  Right into the middle of the dirty floor full of crushed out cigars.

 I let out a blood curdling wail and was suddenly enveloped in tears.

Just then, my startled father exchanged panicky glances with Fred, but I couldn’t see how this calamity could ever be set right.

“Oh no!” Fred called out.  “We dropped our ice cream.”  This was the type of guy who had likely never uttered those five words in his life.  “Here, let me get you another,” he offered in a softer voice.

Daddy took the new ice cream cone from Fred and gently knelt down to hand it to me.  Then he turned and thanked the man and we left the drug store. Walking out onto the sidewalk in the bright noon day sun, daddy carefully helped me into the old ’47 Chevy and we headed back home to momma and Sonny.

It was years later before I knew where I had been that day.  Fred was daddy’s bookie.  It took years of yelling matches between my mom and dad, yelling matches that, over the years, began to clarify some things about my life, our lives.

For one thing, daddy had a gambling problem.  For another, momma had a drinking problem.  She had a temper too.  She was far beyond most females in the women’s movement.  She worked outside the home when most wives and mothers shunned such behavior.  She drank.  She had a girlfriend that she always went carousing with.  They’d dance the night away with guys whose names didn’t even matter. 

During the yelling matches I found out other things too.  Things that innocent children really shouldn’t know about.  Momma was always mad at daddy because he was chasing skirts.

You see, daddy was a very good-looking, charismatic man.  Women just naturally gravitated toward him.  He couldn’t be faithful. I remember one floosy that daddy got involved with when I was around 10 years old.  She was a semi-famous stripper in Dallas known as Trixie.  I don’t recall what exactly happened, but old Trixie got herself mixed up in some kind of racy scandal with a well-known politician.  It was all over the newspapers for a year or so.

I’ve never seen such genuine glee as the day momma picked up the Dallas Morning News and read one of the first of many articles about the scandal.  You could almost hear her thinking, At least there will be one less ‘other woman’ to worry about now.

Daddy seemed at a loss for a while.  Looking back, I realize that he might have had some true feelings for Trixie.  Who knows?  Love never makes any sense, does it?

Small voices
Trailing
Against gray sky

Emotions--

That ramble around
In your heart.
Uneasy Images--
That linger
Too long.
Words—With power
To cause a rift in tyme.
You must lay them down
Beside the gulf that separates you
From what’s happened.
You must so choose
And in that choice
Lies a hope.
Tomorrow it may rain
But sun will shine
Where you’ll allow it.

Carolyn L. Sorrell – Copyright 2005