From an Upper Floor

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.

November 30, 2011

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 Lake Forest, CA.
Thanksgiving

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. . . .

November 25, 2011

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 Lake Forest, CA.
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?

November 10, 2011

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 Lake Forest, CA.
the first snow

November 2, 2011

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 Lake Forest, CA.
We Are Asked

In each of us is our dream, our desire.   The striving, the process is the only thing worth the struggle. This is why we work at it.   All else are diversions.   They are but a tangent of the premise. Either the striving or the process finds the dream for us or we do not find it. The goal is unimportant. Goals can change. In the search, the striving, we will find our Self.   And we may find nothing but compromise with the Earth, the Heavens and our Self. But because of the striving we then put all of us a step closer to brotherhood in the making. And the next generation will find a depth, a richness and a spirituality just where they are and will build on what was a dream. They will find no reason to tear down but every reason to enlarge the dream and depth of it.

It is not only the way of the world.   It is the way of the Universes for life 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. The Divine spark resides in man. Not only are we human but divine. We are in God. It is no longer appropriate to qualify ourselves as only human.   We are more. We must bring the god premises down to where we are or lift ourselves up to where we think they are. And our lives must reflect the highest and best in us.

Some are given greater glimpses, more in depth visions of greater scope. But they are still only glimpses.   We all are given those moments when we know we are more than what we appear.   What it means is that from where we are, we are to pursue in depth what it is we require to bring the greater vision to us and give greater meaning to who and what we are. We then are able to reflect it in who we are and what we do. It is no small thing we are asked to do.

It is not only our world we must concern ourselves about but all worlds. Those yet to see the light of day but also the mysteries of night.

October 21, 2011

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 Lake Forest, CA.
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.

October 7, 2011

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 Lake Forest, CA.
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.

October 7, 2011

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 Lake Forest, CA.
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.

September 25, 2011

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 Lake Forest, CA.
Observations

If you do not intend to look back,

it’s best to remember to lift the plow.

Wishes are as potent a force

as fishes swimming in live water.

Under adverse conditions, we become

more of what we are.

To think is a holy obligation.

Nothing gets done in this world unless a somebody’s

back breaks, a somebody’s legs ache and at least a

somebody’s mind splinters and a heart rips apart.

The world no longer tolerates the thinkers. They have

become recluses in ribbons of concrete.

The thoughtful ones cannot find a place to be asked a question

requiring the time to raise their eyes unto the hills and back for

a reflective answer.

The visionary has the look of one used to focusing on

the horizon. I would place my life in the hands of a visionary.

He /she will be around for the long haul as a participant in the vision.

September 11, 2011

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 Lake Forest, CA.
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.

August 30, 2011

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 Lake Forest, CA.