From an Upper Floor

    • Blog Archives
    • Contact Me
    • Kiss The Moon Poetry Drawing
    • Sitemap
Illustration of a bird flying.
  • Camelot Moment

    The words we chose to speak
    could not be construed
    to be words of great love,
    but they were.

    It was with gaiety that we chatted
    about the commonplace
    and laughed a lot.
    We were happy.

    I sat in my chair
    at the dining room table
    and watched with joy a moment rare
    in our shared history.

    My coffee cup
    had been refilled so many times;
    its taste was cutting sweet.
    You had risen from the table
    and in the space that was
    the middle of the kitchen,
    were moved by some unnamed force
    to do a jig.

    In the fragmented second it took
    to blink away a laughing tear,
    your form transformed
    and there we were and yet not.

    With feet doing your
    ancestral dance in mid-air,
    your solid body was no longer solid.
    A maze of dancing atoms and molecules
    took your shape.
    Your color took on their transparency
    and I thought how fragile you are!

    It was just a moment
    but eternity practising
    and you were back into
    the time frame we both knew as you.
    I could not tell you what I saw.
    The rules of this let’s pretend world
    are hard to break.

    I sit at this desk with
    magically moving molecules,
    drinking coffee from a supposedly
    solid white cup and saucer
    and holding tight to a yellow pencil
    at a time when the rest of the world
    sleeps and weeps.

    Knowing the mountain
    is only a thought form
    and with a little faith in my ability
    to move it, I could.
    With our prejudices
    we mightily construct a world
    to please or not,
    as our self image directs.

    But in this brief Camelot moment,
    I know that in that sacred space I saw you
    so utterly defenseless,

    I never loved you more, nor me.

    September 11, 2013
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • I Sought My God

    I sought my God
    in pleasures great and small.
    In beautiful places one was told,
    He would be found.
    I have traveled much this world
    to know if God be found
    across the sea, in foreign lands,
    I had to seek.

    The Roman soil was holy,
    surely He would be there!
    Though history stirred my senses,
    my soul of God was bare.

    The ancient Orient
    was found to be mysterious
    with holy rites for everything.
    Surely God would have to be
    entrapped,
    but I found him not.

    My journey seemed so fruitless,
    though no greater sights I’d seen,
    than ancient ruins pointing to God,
    but God was nowhere I had been.

    Returning  home I walked
    my fields so late at night,
    content that I had searched with might
    in places far and near for Him,
    but found him not.

    But doubt within me stirred anew
    and forced my face up to the heavens,
    while to the ground my knees were bent
    and heart and soul with God were rent.

    I found there is no barrier
    between my mind and my God.
    He dwells in me and I in Him.
    Eternal  truths forever stand
    though time our visions dim.

    Foolishly for years I’d sought
    my God in places distant,
    in books reread to catch elusive meaning.
    For me this road was right,
    for mind and thought were measure.

    Each man must travel the road alone.
    The way is clear, the journey long,
    but oh the peace!
    My mind has ceased its endless turmoil,
    my feet their endless motion.

    There is no death in this Great Plan,
    just a passing on to greater things
    of mind and heart and soul.
    Inadequate are the words of man,

    but my heart in great anticipation,  sings!

    September 8, 2013
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • Effort Becomes The Way

    Take ye  and do likewise He said
    and I believed Him.
    When effort becomes the way
    and in a blink of an eye,
    becomes a pleasure, nay fun,
    one becomes suspect.

    For in layman’s terms
    work is not pleasure
    but desultory means
    of making a living.

    Woe is the pilgrim
    who in life respects
    the physical means
    of procuring sustenance.
    That in its secret
    one finds the ultimate answer.
    That virtue is in the labor

    and beauty is in the doing.

    August 2013

    August 31, 2013
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • At Fifty One

    This morning I took spade in hand
    and dug the young and fragile marigolds
    out of their crowded rows
    and thinned them out.

    With dowel in hand
    I lifted these slender stems
    into holes I designed for them.
    I eased their change in residence
    under a cloudy sky promising rain.  It did.
    And their trauma was lessened
    and their root protected
    and in confidence they grow.

    Yesterday I gave birth to new ideas.
    Was it only yesterday?
    I handled with great care their birthing.
    I planted and thinned and transplanted
    and kept them from flying
    when they had no wings.
    But when it was time,  I let go lightly.

    Now it is another birth-day.
    I will shed roles chosen and
    and choose new ones.
    I open myself to new ideas
    and wear them hesitantly.
    I will tell you of my journey
    to this space in which
    I find myself at fifty one,
    knowing I am Creator and Creature both.

    Having birthed ideas
    whose essences are cosmic,
    having nurtured the earth’s marigolds
    whose roots are hers
    and to know in the moment
    how beautiful and right
    it all is . . . . .

    and could never be otherwise.

    1982- even then I knew it to be my life’s journey-work

    August 26, 2013
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • Conscience

    Conscience is
    a mouth guard I wear
    to keep my heart from spilling
    onto the cold, hard ground.
    I would want my words
    to meet your thoughts,
    to brighten your furrowed brow
    and dismiss the fear
    from your eyes.

    But only when I see
    an invitation to speak
    will I let loose the guard.
    This is what I want to do.
    All I need is one moment
    of invitation and I run
    like a greyhound chasing
    the tail of a rabbit.

    See me chancing
    to have you run with me
    when all I wish is a someone
    even for a brief moment saying

    I meet you here.

    2013
    Veronica

    August 22, 2013
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • A Time For Making Peace

    It is a time
    for making peace. . . .
    for actions that struck
    the core of the heart. . . .
    for words that sucked life
    out of a body
    still intent on breathing.

    Those were actions and words
    that should have been vented
    when anguish and outrage
    stole the child’s innocence.

    And now with
    the ends of the circle tightly knotting,
    we quietly say our thanks,

    for the Grace given
    by understanding hearts
    in the heat of the fire;
    of love ventured into arms
    needing the close embrace
    of a forgiving Other.

    It all comes full circle.
    We step out and
    the merry go round stops for a time.
    Until again,

    our zest for life is renewed.

    May, 2013
    Veronica

    August 18, 2013
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • Teaching The Children

    photo (8)The snowflakes were just barely visible when the younger looked hopeful and asked if we could make a snowman.   Well I said, there really had to be a lot of snow on the ground before we could roll it up into a ball and make a snowman.   But we could stay up later he said and wait for the snow to fall.   But I said to him that there is school tomorrow and to stay up late was not a good idea.   Then I asked him how important was it that we make a snowman.   And he looked at me in puzzlement and said,  but how could we have Thanksgiving and Christmas without snow?  I said but what about the children who lived in places that were hot all the time and what did he think they did?   He was silent for some time and then said quietly, they make believe, don’t they?

    Tell me,  I said, what do they make believe?  Like I do he said when I am sad or I wish for something that doesn’t happen.   I make believe in my head that what I wish for is real and then play like it is real and pretty soon,  I am happy.   Do you do that often, I asked and he said lots of times.   Especially when I am hurting inside or wisht with all my might for something and even I know all my might won’t make it real.  But then the hurt goes away when I make believe  and I am not sad anymore.   Well, I said , this I can promise you.   When the snow piles up to just two inches,  and I showed him how much that was, we will make as big a snowman as we can.   We will roll and roll until the ball gets bigger and bigger even I said if it takes up the whole yard.   Like higher than me, he asked?   And I said higher than you.   And then I hugged him and thanked him for telling me how he made himself happy when he hurt inside.

    How did you learn to do that,  I asked.   And he said I watch-ed you.

    (The wall quilt can be hung on the wall or framed.   It is approximately 10 inches square and is for sale for $25.00, shipping included.   It is a printed fabric and a delight to look at.  Click on the wall quilt and it will be brought up front and center.)

    August 13, 2013
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • About The Journey, The Process

    One brother told his other brother and underscored that the journey is the only thing, the process if you will,  is the only thing worth the struggle.   And I found the following notes in my work from the Teacher and the Teacher said:

    To be able to come to this conclusion, truly is what we work at.   All else are diversions.   All else are those things which are but a tangent of the premise.  Either one finds it for oneself or one does not find it.  Either it is learned in the process or one escapes it entirely and finds that the carrot is not all that good tasting and one must find another carrot.

    The goal is unimportant.   The goal is such that it can change and with the change the sweetness is not what one thought.  When you spend a lifetime not swerving from your position,  staying where you are, in the searching you find yourself.  It brings a feeling of compromise with the Earth,  with the Heavens and with yourself.   And the compromise finds you a step ahead with brotherhood in the making.   A step that will bring to the unborn not a feeling of intensity of destroying all the old but one of building where they are and finding a depth, a richness and a spirituality just where they are.   It is not only the way of the world.  It is the way of the universes, for life is everlasting.  To learn the rudiments, to learn the process, puts the mystery back where it belongs.   Within the Godhead and in the Being who is part of the Godhead.

    We don’t separate the Being from the Godhead.   We don’t separate Man from God.  We bring it all down to where we are or lift ourselves up to where it is being played out in all dimensions.  We catch glimpses of it all and then because we cannot pursue it in depth,  must be satisfied with glimpses.

    Some are given greater glimpses, more in depth visions of greater scope.   But what it all means is that from where we are, to pursue in depth what it is we require brings the greater vision to us and gives greater meaning to who and what we are.  This then is the journey, the process.   We then are able to reflect it in who we are and what we do.   The process being the most important, observations being of immense proportions because of the intensity designated.

    It is no small thing being done, small though it looks.  But appearances are not all.   Appearances are the mirror of what is done elsewhere doing what one is supposed to do in order to discover what one can about oneself.  There is a purpose in the learning when it is applied to all areas of life.   And much to be learned that applies to philosophy as a whole.   We take this day with this knowledge and proceed.   We cannot hold anything back but give forth of all that we are to what it is we do and react to.   We plough the field in our own way so that when the plough is lifted, there is no reason to look back.   We will have made straight furrows and there will be no reason ever for another to look and say that the furrows were crooked.   Not when we have given our best throughout and have thought through and worked through the process.

    Much is given and since the majority stand where you are in upbringing and commitment and priorities and not in the forefront of the entertainment world,   this is where the work is.   It must be done in the kitchens , in the bedrooms and in front of the fire if it is to work anywhere.   And the root system must be looked at and taken into account.   And the individual’s own responsibility and their accountability is held to be the measure.   Without knowing what it is we do, without being consciously present in the life of one, by the ability and strength that comes from release and healing, one is able to step into an other’s shoes and help to show that there is a solution,  there is a way to freedom that comes, but only when the footwork and only when the material learned is integrated.  One does not integrate a human race, not even on a civil level truly unless the individuals are integrated within themselves.  It is hard to accommodate an Other within one’s circle when one’s world has not been able to accommodate one’s Self.

    It is necessary to be civil for civilization not to erupt and go down the tube again.   But not until there is true accommodation for who and what one is,  and forgiveness, can there be peace at the table where one is,  whether it is the dinner table or the conference table.   We talk about a unification,  about a healing in the dichotomy of man.

    Let us pursue it further and go about doing it.

    (My gratitude is immense.)

    August 9, 2013
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • Lessons Need Repeating

    catsSometimes things happen and one does not know quite how things either took a decided turn or what we did to make something happen.   It seems that since I decided what I wanted to do with my wall quilts,  life happened or intervened and Poof!  my plans went astray.   I relearned several things though.   One is that if something is meant for you,  you will not be able to avoid it.   And secondly,   if it is not meant for you,  nothing you do will make it happen for you.   That sounds like a fatalist,  but it is not meant to be.   If you consider yourself a worthwhile and integral part of this world or planet,  then you know you are not  an incident that just happened,  but a predetermined spark put here precisely in this time and space.   And that means that a  Somebody or your God has you in sight and life is indeed a challenge but a treasure as well.   I also learned that perseverance means a great deal.   Even when you think that if you straighten up your back will crack.  It simply means that the question is being put to you,  how hard would you work or keep at something till knowledge is yours,   or when would you know to quit and at what point.   I speak as if Somebody is in charge and to answer that question means that you have to do a lot of footwork.   It is a challenge and worth it.   But the truth is that  it is never too late to start the footwork.  I finally finished this first Christmas wall quilt,  a bit smaller than first thought,  but finished.   It certainly tested my Christmas state of mind.    But it is for sale and if you are interested,  let me know here.

    August 7, 2013
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • State of Mind

    photo-1 (4)What I try to portray when doing wall quilts is an understanding of a time that may not exist in our time frame but does exist in memory.  It may be of our memory locked in our memory vault or belong to our ancestors.  It may not matter at all.  But when the memory comes alive in us and changes us either to better ourselves and our world or remind us of something else that once was significant,  it indeed then becomes important.  It happened somewhere to be lodged in us.   That is good enough for me.

    These new quilts will be mini quilts, able to be framed.   The tree that I am working on is of vintage Christmas prints.   When I unpacked this quilt after our move here, that I had been working on and saw the  night sky blue background,  my heart sighed AAAhhhhhh.  This is the Heaven I see.

    The measurements of this quilt are slightly larger than the mini quilts which will be 5″ by 7″  or 8″ by 10″.   This one is 15″by 17″.   If you are interested, contact me here.   It is not too early for me to start my Christmas quilts.   Christmas is my state of mind.   This quilt is $38.00 plus $5.00 shipping.

    August 1, 2013
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
←Previous Page
1 … 105 106 107 108 109 … 120
Next Page→

From an Upper Floor

Proudly powered by WordPress