Archive | Poetry

Forever Stilled

Forever Stilled

Hear the bird sing.
Singing with
the guttural sound
because the ethers
are not light enough
to carry her notes.
She swallows her song

and it is forever stilled.
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In The Morning

                        In The Morning

                        Today is the day
                                    I will preen my feathers,
                                    open my wings and fly.

                        Today is the day
                                    I will breathe the elixir
                                    of rarefied air

                        and bring to me
                                    All That Is
                                    into a heart grown weary.

                        And then I will find
                                    the power to change
                                    the course of mighty rivers

                        and give impetus
                                    to dreaming children
                                    who are content to sleepwalk.

                        In all this,
                                    I will find the
                                    crystalline gestures exquisite.

                        And dawn will break the crystals
                                    and the children
                                    will pick them up

                        astonished.
1

Bless The Experience

            I learned something.  I learned to ’bless the experience’.
            For if the experience has been a negative one,
            has left me with a hurt so deep, has filled me with anger,
            then I must bless it.  For in the blessing I remove
            its power to hurt me again.  I leave it impotent, unable.
            I’ve taken the wind out of its sails and
            there it sits, blessed for the teaching,
            but unable to wield power over me again.

            If the experience is a positive one, I bless it.
            In like manner, it will remain powerful and upon recall,
            able to confer its goodness time and again.
            In my thinking happily on it,
            I will automatically bless it again.

            Life is a blessed experience, all of it. 
            Bless it generously and gratefully. 
            It teaches us magnificently and impartially.
            These are the magic words.  For in the unhappy experience
            we are taught swiftly and surely and must bless the lesson.
            In the happier one our pleasurable memory is our
            reward.  In blessing all of it, we make our truce with life

            and secure our place in it forever.
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NOBLE VIGILS

                        In its lucent light,
                        riding high in orbit,
                        the moon casts spears
                        arching toward the groves
                        of evergreens,
                        trading their veracity
                        for a moment of magic.

                        The night dissolves
                        the shaded parts into blackness.
                        My eyes linger
                        on the luminescence,
                        on the silent sterling
                        of those branches
                        lifted to catch the light.

                        And remind me
                        of the noble vigil
                        of the humble dusty miller

                        on a hot August night.

4

No Lost Causes

A one sided effort does bring results.   Even when it appears to be a lost cause, it is not.  That someone cares enough to do what needs to be done is never a lost cause.  There cannot ever be a lost effort to do good in the universe.   That would be an oxymoron, a contradiction.   The ability to see this is paramount.   Even when no words are spoken there needs to be someone who cares enough to help expedite matters.  If there is not, it is a fruitless life.   But should there be caring, there is hope and a chance for life again.

Even those of lesser stuffs, those stuffs are only lesser because of the parameters set by others.   Take the parameters away and there are no limits for good.  And that is what good is all about, what gods are all about.   Within the person there are no limits for good.  What is life sustaining and life giving wherever the need is, is good.

When we wander through the mental houses of those we care about or are responsible for and find much that we would like to help with and then decide not to,  the ‘then not’ means we wash our hands of the matter.  To wash one’s hands of the matter is to relegate all to the dung heap.  If the one who can do something about anything finds the matter too sticky, the flies will be attracted and the matter will deteriorate and rot.   The purpose of keeping on, keeping on means that the people are still worth the effort.  As long as a some one cares, there is hope.   Just one to care is needed.    Just one.

 And often we are that just one someone.
4

Fine Wine

            Fine Wine

             We have bound and gagged the bird
             who would carry the olive branch
             to the heads of state
             guarding vehemently their fragile egos.
             Guarding so that the horrors
             of retaliation would not
             devastate their souls
             for stealing the young sons
             who had no knowledge and no chance.

             Where is the king
             who would avow his peace
             that others would live symbolically
             in love with the dove?

             Now. . . . here is the chance
             and the time where love
             cancels the errors and begs
             unconditionally for forgiveness.
             We've taken what was most cherished
             and crushed to death

             what would have been fine wine.
2

Even If

              Even If . . . . .

              If you sing this song with me,
              then follow the words
              for they are gentle
              and full of meaning.

             They will take you to places         
              far from here
              and show you your heart's yearnings
              and help you to understand
              the 'why' that plagues
              your days and nights.

               So sing this song
               even if the words
               are slow in coming
               and even if the melody
               is new and different.
               For in the difference
               you will find a new world
               taking shape
               and in the harmony of it all

               you will find your place.
0

Because It Is

                                     Because It Is

                                     You cannot dream things that never were
                                     for in a sometime and a somewhere
                                     they've taken place and left their indelible memory
                                     on your mind.

                                     Only to be remembered when a slim shadow
                                     casts its spell across your life
                                     and causes you to bring forth a relic,
                                     a piece of the dream that had its substance
                                     in a far time when love was pocketed
                                     near your heart and brought forth to heal
                                     a wound, to make life complete.

                                     Never to question why or why not.
                                     Simply because it is.
0

Meditation

Come with me to this place
I visit often, hidden behind an eyelash;
where it is Easter all the time and
rebirth is not a sometime thing; where
gods cavort in joyous abandon.
        Come, we dance. . . .                       

Today the world stood still. In the
bright afternoon sun I saw a butterfly
dart into a spider's web woven between
the power lines and lift it up and carry
it with him.

In the silence I heard the question.

How heavy is a spider's web on a butterfly's wing?

Since everything is balanced,
the question is proportional.
A friend said to me, 'only you had eyes to see it.'
Does the world stand still for you? Ever?
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