Archive | Poetry

Christmas Lullaby

Christmas_lullaby

The moon assists the drama
heralding the arrival
of the event
locked within memory.

A place, deep within time’s measure
nudges from familiar territories
the clockwise turn of events.

Incense, sweet hay,
pungent holly, sweeping palms,
evergreen.

The eye follows the moon rays
to find the final beam
lodged in our heart.
The ear strains to hear
the lullaby last

to find we are the music.
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An Offering

In all things good we ask that a Light so shine
that the good works which are ours
will glorify and exemplify all that is true
and divine,  both within us
and within the Earth.   We ask 
Divine guidance be placed
upon our heads and within our hearts
that we may bring to light
all that we have been taught and
all that we have learned.

We ask in all names that signify
the blessedness of life and the glory
which is both Divine and human.  

We ask,  please receive.   Amen.
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Waiting For Santa Claus

Waiting_for_santa_claus

The bare floor of the landing,
midway to the top of the stairs.
began to bite her knees and she grew weary.
Her chin pressed the ledge of the frozen window
where her breath left a misty hole.
Her eyes followed the range of the stars,
afraid, afraid of missing the sainted friend
who would deliver her heart’s desires.

Her vigil continued and
the night grew weary of itself.
The house slept under the weight
of the wonderless slumbering within
and its old bones creaked with fatigue.

She did not move and
her  eight years spoke her eight millennia.
The promise was not for now but of forever.

Erstwhile urchin, never blended the phases
of  the child’s dreams, but the boiling
of  the witch’s brew to drink
from  the cauldron of life’s ironies.

It was the story written of the night
in  which a million stars stole the night.
She long remembered the banishment
and  in her vigil she would have
reclaimed  the homestead.

It was not to be.    But in its stead,
the  morning fir stood and the lights
reflected  the stars which distilled
their  radiance in the eyes of the child.
Not for long was the long wait.
She claimed her right as a child of the night

and  gift wrapped was her life.

2

Great Songs Will Be Sung

Should you find the need
to tell your story in words,
think mightily on them
and they will be caught up
in the air’s currents
and carried on the birds’ wings.
They will reach the ears
they were designed for.

You will find
you are not alone
and in this infinite universe
you will be heard.

And when the thoughts
reach the places in
the heart of  an Other

great songs will be sung again.
2

Thanksgiving

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THANK YOU

My days are filled
with murmuring thanks
for gifts unbidden. . . .

for the stray thought
giving answers
to questions I did not ask. . . .

for the beating heart
too tired even to stop
and glad that it does not. . . .

for the quivering morning
poised to take flight
through a day hard pressed . . . .

to a night bidden
with unfaltering love
as a thank you . . . .

for a day loved through. . . .
5

The Invited Guest

                        I once knew a good carpenter
                        who, with hammer and saw
                        and wood and file
                        showed me how to build a chair.

                        I did and sat on it
                        and then decided  I needed a table.
                        With hammer and saw
                        and wood and file,
                        I built a table and sat at it.

                        I knew I needed another chair
                        for an Other to sit on.
                        So with hammer and saw
                        and wood and file,
                        I built it.

                        I then invited the carpenter
                        to join me at the table.
                        We lit a candle and talked
                        and a new world was born.

                        How did I know
                        I first needed to learn
                        how to build?
2

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.
2

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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