Archive | Poetry

Our Sense Of Time

There is a sense of time
stretching from here
to other worlds whose names
are not in my vocabulary.
I am certain of here
because this is where I am.

I pushed away the snow
no longer pristine as first it came.
I took off my coat;
too heavy now with the approaching spring.
Too bad, I think, that the season of snow
is now so short.
Once it embraced the whole of me
that looked upon its arrival as enticing
as whipped cream on a piece of pie.

Its anticipation included holidays
that swallowed wicked witches,
soon  followed by grateful hearts
seated about the table
swollen with the summer’s harvest.

I put away the significant things,
sorting them for another year;
carefully storing memories
to be added to a life
already crowded with them.

I will remember this holy season
because of my fill of joy,
of heart shedding happiness.
In this world are the ways
we measure lives in holidays,
in holy days, in births and deaths,

only because of our sense of time.

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Four Of Us Less One. . .

In Memory of David . . .

We sit and we break bread,
the  four of us less one.
We think of him but do not speak of him
who misses us as we miss him.

Our loss so great, the pain so blue,
we can but weep.
Yet so close we sit,
the thinnest veil between us,
the four of us less one.

We are who we are,
created by slow cooking
of heaven’s desire for perfection,
like garden vegetables simmering.

We’ve come through long years of drought
with parched throats and no cold storage
for the scrubby pickings of the mind’s  fruit.

Now it is morning,
fresh and free of pain, newborn.
We’ve slept the night on buckwheat pillows.
Now the promise
that our bowls will be filled
and we will eat.

Communion at the rail on bended knee,
waiting to be lifted up.

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Kiss The Morning

Kiss the MorningUntil Spring reaches all of all of us,  I will be posting a few of my winter scenes still for sale.   Those of you who have seen ones I have posted before and wonder if they are still available, contact me .     There are some where I  have used the verses over but with slightly different colors and fabric. Winter is my favorite season of the year and though I can appreciate all of the others for what they offer,   the crispness of the winter air still clears the cobwebs of the sultry days of summer.   So when the locusts begin their singing in the July and August nights, I breathe easier.   For then my memories of angels in the snow begin and life is good.   Contact me if this young woman’s stride into the morning is what will begin your day.

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THE RUNNER

In memory of Dennis whose laughter I will forever remember

THE RUNNER

Fierce as the fighter
at sword’s end,
he pierces the ethers
with feet pursuing
in active rite
a holy destination.

With easy strides
cutting the air cleanly,
his pursuit begins in quest
of his ecstasy;
bought at the cost
of a body agonizing
through every muscle bleeding
and every bone melting
in final deliberation.

Hot breath searing
past a throat whose tongue
cannot feel teeth
mounted in place for a lifetime,
he swallows the wind in great gulps
and finds he swallows.  .  .  .  .

the  Amen.  .  .   .   .

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A Good Friend (from Kiss The Moon)

Kiss The Moon Book Cover

Cover

 

 

You stayed the night
while I lumbered my body
through a partition
closing me from life.

While I fought
through a sea of memories
holding me hostage
to long and lonely years.

You saw me
through eyes of tears
reflecting the hardness
mine needed to smelt

with coals being fired
in a heart of no use.

But you stayed, close to my skin
and had you pulled away
I would have understood.
You stalk me yet and I stand.

My eyes have shed their steel casings,
now ground as dust beneath my heel.
I look inward to softer places
and find the world not so hard.

You tell me you need to stay close
because you wish to claim
my strength if only by association.
but I ask,

of what heavenly use is a soft shell crab?

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My Love Of Barns

002-1 final editWhen I was a young girl we moved to The Farm.   It was the most beautiful place my eyes had yet seen.   The red barn sat on a hill opposite the white house also sitting on an incline.   And outside any window were horizons as far as my eyes could see.   But the red barn became a focal point of all life lived on The Farm.   It was the beginning of the family’s day and the ending of it.   It was the home of cows and calves and for some years,  horses.   The animals lived on the main floor and their food was thrown down from the upper floor.   The smell of the place was warm always to the girl that I was.   And the upper floor,  with some boards always missing,  was home to the cats who kept the place free of those who would feast on grains and grow fat.   Barns became a favorite haunt of mine.    I looked for them when I was traveling somewhere well into my years.   By the condition of the barn one could gather what the financial state of the farm was.   How well the families were doing or how poorly.   It was the last place to get paint because of the priorities of everything else.   Hay and grain first for the animals,  health care and fences for them and upkeep of everything else which the Inspectors would mark off if your monies depended on outside buyers of your production.   Not an easy life but a vastly rewarding one.   My most influential years of my life;  they critically laid the groundwork for all my years to follow.  I am forever grateful.  My love of barns and farms has continued to this day.
This wall hanging is now for sale for $200.00.   The dimensions are 18″ wide by 27″ long.   Paypal is accepted.

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Sacred Permit

Sacred Permit

Sacred Permit

I am posting this wall quilt with the hope that it will be purchased for someone who is expecting a child.  It has always been mine to know that we come with a sacred permit that says we are chosen as our parents are also chosen.   I know this is not a commonly held concept,  especially because there are too many who hunger not only for food but for love as well.   But it does not prevent me from thinking that one day we will realize this is a world where new concepts can be chosen and new learning will take place.

The quilt is $120.00 with shipping included.  I know there is someone special for whom this quilt will have meaning.   Contact me with any questions you may have.   It was made with love and care from a grateful heart.

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The Whole World Is Looking For A Mother

In the `90’s,  when my world was struggling to find its place after the death of our middle son a few years earlier, the bigger world outside of me seemed only to reflect what I was working on.   And in the midst of my struggles, I wrote The Whole World Is Looking For A Mother.  I am certain there are others who feel like I did that day when I wrote this poem.  Tell me what you think.

Pray to me, Almighty God,
and send a mother to mother
this barren earth,
these orphaned children striving to stand
with no one to lean on.
Pray to me.

For I tire.  I tire.
Senseless equations keep pestering me,
seeking sums I cannot decipher,
for too many zeroes I neither
can articulate nor posture.
Debits and assets, we have the former
in trillions but the assets hide
from Thee and Me.   I do not see them.
Do Ye?

Except hidden in the child’s eyes,
in the smile, in the groping of hands,
trying to find each other.
Except in the autumn I now sit in,
rain saturated, leaves clinging to roads
and sidewalks as slippery as comfrey.
Except in the foaming earth
giving off an elixir to intoxicate me
into still thinking I can make a difference.

Pray to me,  Great God
that I may be ignited
with a fire yet to burn brightly,
that I may see my commitments
straight through to their resurrection
and mine.
That I may yet see a glorious dawning
of a day where the acts of my days
will prove again the reflected glory
of God in Earth.
I pray, still, send a mother,
fresh from the Cosmic Bosom to lean on,

not tired.

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Midnight Blue

My version of a card in fabric.

My version of a card in fabric.

 

 

When we first received this card I knew I wanted to do my fabric version of it.   At the moment it is my favorite.   It will be on display for the February 10th exhibit at the Oak Park Arms.  There will also be a reception.   I hope those in the area will allow time on Sunday to join us.   I look forward to meeting you.   The quote on the quilt is mine. ‘My heart races to the brink now;  to the edge of the winter snows. ‘ Do come.  You are cordially invited.

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Conundrums

A miserable constitution should send one to class rather than to the doctor.

The true child of the universe walks in confidence.  It is the child held captive in the adult body who flounders helplessly.

There is no profit in knowing anything if it is not also a given.

Urchin is the adult in process.

If man does not do it right, how many more times will the earth be hospitable?

Any violation of a personal right, even the right to be unhappy or ill, carries a great penalty.

Relationships become more honed toward that which is left behind.

Pity has no place in a life so rich.

Pity is no friend.   He is the enemy who takes life.

It is quite a horrendous matter when we confront our own inadequacies and see our children have outscoped us in growth and awareness.

When stress becomes unbearable, we are then pressed to broaden our understanding and learn.

When man truly wants to learn he will.   Spirit discerns the well intentioned and the readiness of the student.

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