From an Upper Floor

Become The Friend

When the burlap arrived I began to learn how to work with the fabric.   My first attempts were successful because they were the tried and true ones that I used with ordinary fabric.   This wall quilt was the first attempt to write directly on the burlap.   It became a quilt that built itself as I went along.   The more I thought of the phrase it became apparent how it applied to every age.

Whenever the question is asked as to how this pilgrim journey should start I want to say become the kind of friend you want in your life.   To me this tells me how serious and willing the person is in seeking for themselves what is necessary in their lives. This particular exercise will not be devastating to the psyche but it will convince the individual if the effort is worthwhile. It is not the easiest junket to be sure. And to the young one whose family perhaps is relocating and parents are met with ‘but I won’t have any friends!’ it will be a start in a definite direction.

For the novice it will be a study of what their own needs are. Or their preferences are. It may mean a centering down or a reaching out.   Whatever the need will be the beginning.   For the younger one, it may be a matter of wants.   What it is they would like in their lives.    The parent     can say become the friend you want in your life; become that kind of friend as the example.   Beginning the inward journey is seldom a frivolous matter.   It generally begins when one recognizes the fact that systems are crashing and there is nowhere to go but in.

That first step is the hardest one. No matter the age.

July 9, 2014

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.
The Road Hardly Ever Chosen

A Teacher Spoke. . . . you spend time patching up the grill work only to find that the holes are supposed to be there for that is the way it was designed. That is where it is you are. That is where we have come and there is no turning back but straight on through. You wondered whether there would be confirmation at all that the church has taught and you would be reborn. You did not stop at reborn. People do. That is a way station. But you clambered aboard the train and got off at the next stop and the next and the next. And at every stop there was a something else; another something. But we did not stop you. We saw the integration taking place and we did not stop you. We saw the pain involved and we did not stop you. We did not call a halt. You did not say, enough already. Well, here we are now, not at the end of the road but at another way station. What have you found? Another place of unrest. You think but what is there that recommends life to me? And we have to answer, only you. You have to see within yourself your reason for coming, have to care enough to burden yourself and have to see the broader picture carrying down the road a host of generations.
(May, 1986)

The Road Hardly Ever Chosen

Philosophies are born to work
but only after the heart
decides that what has been
the dailyness is no longer tolerable.

The war begins somewhere
for the man in the street.
A rock is thrown
and mayhem results.

For one like me,
darkness was never preferable
but the Comforter was alerted
and chaos was averted,
allowing a life’s drama to unfold.

Wretched, gulping gasps
spilled life’s dogmas
over enameled surfaces
to display the rot
of the untenable, unable.
The mind’s search for the acceptable,
the palatable, began.

One does not assume
another man’s efforts
and be able to claim them.
Like a stretched out garment,
the fit is always questionable

It is not to be.
The garment one wears comfortably
as a final one must be
constructed in confrontation
of life’s ironies and indignities.

To insult the psyche no more,
it is not by error
is it called the hero’s journey.
Fortuitous it is when one chooses

the road hardly ever chosen.

June 14, 2014
art by Claudia Hallissey

July 4, 2014

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.
The Plough Sits In The Field

The Plough Sits In The Field

There was a time,
however brief,
when the unthinkable
was avoided at all costs
and the unworkable
was left by the side of the road.

Nowhere could we say
that the heart was not involved;
but lost on us all
were reasons.

Now we wait.
The plough sits in the field
and the mountains
of caked thought grows higher.

Little did we know
Spirit would have us soar
had we been open and allowed
life to be felt, to be woven within us.
One does not wallow
in shales of misery,
coarsely chopped and pitted.

It is never too late,
for the vineyards wait
for the laborers
and they will be rewarded.

The coin of the day
will be the heart’s desires.
And angels will spur us on

to make up for lost time.

photo by Kathy Qualiana
(from The Farm)

June 30, 2014

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.
Peacing and piecing

When I ordered the bolt of burlap on the eve of my 83^rd birthday, I wrote that I did not know what possessed me to do it. It seemed like the right thing to do. So I started working with it and did one wall quilt and then another and another. I am ‘at home’ working with this burlap. It feels right and I am amazed with what ease I do it. It is fun. The pieces come alive beneath my hands and I am all of a peace. I am putting this one up today as a break in my work of letters, and if you find one of them feels like the right one for you, please contact me. This one reads from an old favorite German fable ‘every year throughout the kingdom every tree blossomed and bore fruit on Christmas Eve.‘ If you click on it it will come full screen and details will be evident. The size is 24 by 17 inches. It is for sale for $75.00 plus $10.00 shipping.

June 25, 2014

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 Certain Place And Time

There is always one relationship in any lifetime that becomes more than was ever hoped for. It stands as a beacon and throughout all life it is felt and tried as the perfection of what particular relationships should be.

It is to be kept in mind, when one wishes for a relationship to develop and it does not, no matter the effort or wishful thinking, simply because it cannot. At another time it already was and cannot be duplicated. This does not mean that another relationship cannot be fruitful. It does not mean it cannot be meaningful and rewarding. What it does mean is that in a certain place and time you were a someone you are not now. This new someone requires other than what was.

artwork by Claudia Hallissey

June 20, 2014

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.
Advanced Technology

Advanced Technology

Cry, if you will but not for long.
Tears dampen the pillow
and confine the cold to the head.

Gone the days when romantic tears
were touched and dried
by the corner of a linen.
Today’s tears are great gulps
wrenched from the gut;
testifying to a technology
that bigger is better.

A lady, you, to swallow her tears.
But now we know that ulcers form
in the belly of unshed tears.
So rest easy.
Sleep will hollow the cloud,
giving comfort to infirm hearts
and in the pillow,

nested will be the lover.

June 17, 2014

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.
Please Give Some Thought

The tide rises as high as the undercurrent pushes it.

When a philosophy is carved out of the heart, it upholds the body, the spirit and the mind.

Substitution can sometimes alleviate in the beginning and then incredibly become of itself the real thing.

One should not find the bed so comfortable that it is effort to get out.

The Heavens do not tread lightly on those places where a heavy foot is needed.

Where lessons need to be learned, it is not by coincidence that events multiply to drive
home the lessons without ceasing.

The collective I Am is the singular God.

It is of no use to still a mind which pushes and prods to perfection a soul having no other way to go but to ascend.

Perhaps we should not in this world of premature languages speak in other than the attitude of obeisance.

What you see is not what you get. What you get is what you see.

June 11, 2014

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 Come Bearing Gifts

I Come Bearing Gifts

I come bearing gifts,
an open heart,
an open mind
and open arms.

Love is the currency
used to procure these.
Yours given unsparingly
and mine given
in gratitude for

the constancy of a similar heart.

art by Claudia Hallissey

June 4, 2014

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.
The Heavens Watch

The Heavens Watch

The heavens watch
and poignantly feel
what plagues me.
They say my presence here
in this space I inhabit
is a necessary one.

They would tell me more
but I would laugh, not with mirth
but sarcasm they think,
and would make
the blood of the earth curdle.

I have touched
a portion of my immortality
but cannot, do not,
stand yet with my own.

Mother, He said,
this is your son.
And still I am bound
too tightly to all relationships.

They will be released to an Other
and I will find my freedom
which will not ever again
be bolted by strong irons
through the ethers into another Time.

They may be without wings,
momentarily,
but they grow, they grow.

The day has been a long time in ending.

photo by John Hallissey
poem from a work in progress: My God and Me

June 2, 2014

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.
To Ponder

Bringing fear of the unknown under control is the prerogative of the one who understands there is nothing to fear. It is indeed a safe journey.

Crying is for the moment. Getting on with it is forever.

The road which takes the footwork is the one which begins with the beat of the heart.

It is Spirit which speaks and gives meaning to that which would only make psychology out of what Man is.

When your ideas about your Self change, so does your experience.

Illusion is laced with the brandy of life lived and the taxes exempt. (Except of course, the taxes are collected by all the Caesars always.)

There is no free lunch anywhere.   The cost is exorbitant to those who would choose to play the game for real.

The greening of the heart is a project that many need to start.   It is a priority.

There are absences which leave large holes never to be filled because one cannot go back to fill in the spaces where time was.

                                                                                               Art by Claudia Hallissey

May 26, 2014

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.