Confirmation from vast points,
from sundry points,
lead to an overwhelming wealth of data,
signifying the collective ‘we’.
Insofar we see the only articulate ‘I’,
we ponder the seas confirming our depth,
the mountains asserting our height
and the earth revealing our substance.
Glancing blows strike only
our shield of skin,
composed themselves of styrofoam.
Pierced edges of words
strike hot the peeled rind of emotions,
exposing only fibrous tissue.
But through all, we slide
like peeled comfrey, slick and smooth,
the oiled parts of a machinery;
deus in machina.
Still, we slow the burden burdensome,
noises polluting our hearing,
the events in motion
boggling our eternal eye
We move out of the arena
testing our mettle,
out of a life holding neutral for no man,
out of love gripping our pulses.
To a new world testing our mettle yet,
to a life in neutral only for a moment,
to a love gripping anew our pulses.
It is a universe of no retire.
photo by Christina Socha
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 Common Thread Winner of Kiss The Moon is Wendy Greenspan! I am delighted to have participated in this blind drawing. Many of the poems I use on my blog I often pick from Kiss The Moon. The email will go out this evening and as soon as I have the particulars, Wendy will have her book. I want to thank all the members of Common Thread who share generously with their talents . And those who are new to my blog, I hope you will put me in your toolbar and visit often. I learn from your comments and appreciate the time it takes to make them. There will be a small wall quilt offered toward the holidays so I hope that there will be incentive enough to follow me.
But perhaps my thoughts alone will be enough to make this stop interesting. I treasure my post with responsibility garnered from a lifetime of knowing the weight of words. Perhaps a ‘maybe’ will be injected into your thoughts and that I consider a privilege. The only way we progress is to enlarge our premises. We must give space to different thinking and sometimes it means that we must do some work on tightly held opinions. My thinking is constantly being tempered by thoughts from the youngest members of our family as well as all the media operating in a free society. As long as we continue to breathe the rarified air of human existence, thinking is a sacred obligation. I wish to thank all of you again who entered with your meaningful comments.
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.
This should really start out with once upon a time. And we do. . . .for once upon a time when humans took form there was an openness about them which we can say was almost biblical. Until the fig leaf, for various reasons, was needed.
When man first walked, he knew from where he emerged. It was a very large picture that he held. In the classic Homer’s Iliad, the gods involved with the physical characters were in various stages of growth. Both gods and angels created.
Now we try to explain what is considered myth by classes in literature but was really an openness that was first employed by all. It was a natural state. But then came the nemesis of dis-ease; of fear, of flight and of desire and the brain’s doors were closed. What should have been a rapid growth in man’s progression has turned into a snail’s pace. And the grinding of the mills is studious, well intentioned and designed not to upset those who could not handle the subject at all.
Survival became the prime reason for being. Just to breathe and keep living whether one be animal or human. And this has been the standard operating procedure since the Adam and Eve story. One does not change horses in the middle of the stream it seems, unless the horse becomes too powerful to ride and rides the rider. That is when something must be done.
There will be genetic maneuverings and manipulations and the strongest will survive. The how and why of it all must be answered in the head of the person needing to know. And the picture of this planet must always be kept in mind when negotiating for changes. This is the school for learning the rudiments of behavior for a Universal existence.
And already we broaden the premise from physical Earth life to life in other worlds. If a closed physical system is preferred and for those uncomfortable with a universe of no retire and since all transit at the end of this physical existence, more thought must be given to the next phase of life. We must consider harp lessons since the heavens are all full up with guitar players.
photo by Kathy Qualiana
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.
This week I am the guest in the Common Thread Giveaway. The dates for this drawing are from today the first of September to Thursday evening the fourth of September. The winner of this blind drawing will be announced on Friday. So the dates are today the 1st of September to the 4th of September with the winner being announced on Friday, the 5th of September. When you comment on a post of mine, your name will go into a container and will be announced on Friday. There is time for you to look and browse the blog and make your comments.
I have done this before with this wonderful group and I am delighted to be doing this event again. For those of you who have not been to my blog, I welcome you and hope that you will be a follower. I have many who have found my poetry to their liking and hope that you will also.
Maria from full moon fiber art.com and Jane from Little House Home Arts.com have been especially helpful to me besides being good friends. Their talents in their art have been a pleasure to watch and their encouragement has given my own work greater scope. I am honored to be asked to contribute as the guest of Common Thread. My blog has a few of my poems from Kiss The Moon and I do hope you leave your comments. Perhaps your name will be picked and you will be a winner this time. Good luck to you!
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 Teacher speaks. . . .When you realize that understanding is a bigger or heavier burden than not understanding, your behavior or course of action is already decided.
The reason is this. When you have the knowledge, you have the obligation. Not knowing the reason for a person’s behavior gives one the right to rage. Knowledge takes away this right. Yet who is to blame for this behavior, if blame is in the picture? There is no one. There never was. Each person is a result of a compilation of errors destined for the head of man. And yet within is the spirit destined also for refinement, for an attunement that would bring the human species to the finest place of all. It is a testing ground for angels; each being the angel that decided to try his wings in a place that doesn’t allow flight but instead demands a rooting.
Some behaviors one can ascribe to fact. Yet most things properly belong to a generation of characteristics. Or many generations of characteristics. Not all things are a learned behavior to gain certain results. Some things are passed through the genes. And do not need to have anything done about them except to talk of them and aired. There is generally a self righteousness about ourselves because we have nothing else in our frame of reference. We do what we do because anything else would be foreign to our natures.
When you understand the why of behavior you realize that understanding does not necessarily make the behavior easier to live with. But when you understand, when knowledge is yours, the obligation to do the correct thing is yours also. It is an incomparable growth experience.
No one said it was going to be easy.
Genetic Memories
Lurking behind every door are ghosts
from a shadowy past,
eager to be translated
to a dubious present.
Impregnated in genes
are the memories of these ghosts,
split second DNA, with desire housing
the delicate substance quoting life.
Stupid am I to allow
others’ memories,
lurking in my fresh Being,
to suck life out of my present.
But power filled, even to think
that I could release their tenacious hold
from a life unfulfilled
and requiring recompense.
Helplessness rages simultaneously,
pleading a judicious balance
to satisfy life’s imbalances,
yet knowing,
I cannot do it.
Art by Claudia 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.
There is one thing I would teach if I could it would be that who we are is always safe. A reader who caught the essence of what I was saying, had commented on a post that it made her feel safe. More than safe I would add, we are in the lap of eternity. I was thinking, the reasons for our lessons, if they can be called lessons or simply the consequences of earth life, is these are logical outcomes for what we inadvertently or knowledgeably do. Since we were before we are, we somehow sent this earth rolling in this marvelous sea of great tranquility, called the Universes and had as its basis, safety of its inhabitants and also logical consequences. The underlying basis has intelligence and that intelligence evolves as our intelligence does but in greater leaps. Much greater leaps; unimaginable. And if we call this intelligence God or Father or simply Life, this intelligence is the primary factor of all the Universes.
I don’t know if the Big Bang theory with its mating molecules was its beginning or if some other factor sent rolling in this vast sea even had a beginning. I cannot with this brain fathom that. What I am certain of is the underlying factor of these Universes is intelligence, which makes my heart beat steadily and because we are its children, or its product of love or idea, also are buds of intelligence set on a path of growth, however long it takes. The very primary, the very smallest of life’s instinct that has life and intelligence as its point of existence, I would call the God Participant.
There is nothing, not a thing, no thing in this world should be taken as a granted, as a nothing or non life because we have as its center, life, the smallest particle, the God Participant, growing into its full capacity of intelligence. And from that point, to whatever ends the participant succeeds will then be another meeting of parts in its composition, again growing toward other forms of intelligence or other forms of life.
This may not sound like much but to me is more of what was the beginning and intention of life than the unpalatable that had me wondering why when I was trying so hard to make sense out of my life, there was only nonsense. I was throwing up all the years of my existence and I was dying. I was not let go and have come to these conclusions giving me life and more life. I now know from where it is I come.
And I feel I have scaled the wall.
photo by Christina Socha
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.
In the clasping of the body, arms which embrace, in the coming together is a unity that nothing can impair. That it is truly locked in time. Somehow the eternal has been grasped and time is not of the essence.
That there is a space for this oneness of divine souls, that this embrace is of sublime importance. That in the annals of created history this will be recalled. It will be a fixed event we can visit and be reaffirmed. It will have happened, have been, be and is.
For this event we raise our glasses and bless this union.
Art by Claudia 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.
How could I not love them?
They grew beneath my heart,
waiting for my heart to beat
so that theirs’ would continue beating.
Did you not think
I would not know this?
And they would be reason enough
for me to keep breathing?
You did not know me . . . . .
Like a bear
I would fight for my cubs.
I made them. . . .
They wear my name
and one day
they will remember. . . .
who taught them about love.
August 14, 2014
Art by Claudia 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.
It is August
and there is
a sliver of breath
inside the sill.
The deep breath of autumn
is, I think, a matter of time;
perhaps only in the memory
of the child anxious
for the world of new books
to open.
Anxious for the toys
of summer to be put aside
to make space
for new thoughts.
An old lady now
but still waiting with anticipation
for the long, dark nights
to be filled with time.
It is necessary.
It will take an entire season
to adjust mind, body and soul
to a new way of thinking. . . .
about who I was
and now who I am.
August 14, 2014
Art by Claudia 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.
Our world needs our arms and legs and talents. Heaven needs our industry to keep our planet afloat. We are industrious and we are also creative. And to be both is what life is all about. We construct our lives by what is imaged and we create in physical space what we envision. This planet is the best classroom ever because what we envision we can make manifest as quickly as we gather materials to do so. There are those who never take time to process information into something they can do within the framework of where they are. They hasten to buy it all and wonder why there is so little satisfaction in the acquisition.
Taking an idea, we soon find it gives birth to many more. For some of us it is like looking up a word in the dictionary. One word gives rise to another and soon we spend hours looking up words that pique our interest and add depth to our vocabulary. What is needed is time for solitude to sift and sort and explore. Everyone needs solitude, from the toddler to the elder. Time is needed for an idea to come to fruition. It cannot be done in front of a screen designed to constantly stimulate without time for employment of an idea. A ‘go to your room’ was never argued in our home for it meant there would be uninterrupted personal time. Personal time meant personal space was not violated. It was time where thoughts could roam the ethers and come back full of substance.
I was grateful for hours spent observing work done by my brothers and our sons. Learning to do was my genetic heritage. With the birth of grandchildren also came the birth of woodworking for me. Starting with plaques I soon ventured into toys. It was also grief therapy needing to heal a breach in the family when our David died. The shaping and the sanding were helping put love into toys our grandchildren would be playing with. Working with our hands is part of who we are as human beings from the first wedge and mallet we shaped from rock. This may sound like old fashioned work but one might find it a delightful addiction. And though we might think otherwise,
most of us were not to the manor born.
(Some of the Pink Feather Fleet were space vehicles. Of course, of course. That is why I called them Illusion I, II, etc.)
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.
