Poem: Gossip


Parrots swoop in their group

They provoke me to ponder

Could I teach them to speak?

Instead of a squawk

We all could talk

Imagining the things we’d say

them what they see

flying high every day

And me with my thoughts

as I walk on my way

Would they be easy to teach

a figure of speech

or the nuance and joke?

So many of them

and just one of me

conversing quite difficult

when they sit in the trees

Yet one thing for sure

is that talking with birds

won’t be nearly as absurd

as chatting with those

from my own catty herd

 

 

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Poem: The Cold


What is this nose

like a pink petaled rose

and the streaming eyes

looking like they’ve cried

The booming head

so sunk on the bed

fever chilled sweating

leaving all freating

How did this enter

my core, my center?

And then spread all around

on my sacred ground

Taking over with delight

good blood cells take flight

So miserable I lay low

till it decides to go

taking with it my pep

and slowing my step

Thanks to all the trees

donating tissues for my sneeze

One day I will recover

and won’t be such a bummer

Hopefully soon

next year…immune??

 

 

 

 

 

Poem: Choices


Howling thoughts in my head

lying awake in my bed

my soul is filled with silent dread

Walking in the night alone

the trees can’t speak but can only moan

it seems the world is stripped to bone

Figures hide behind every door

and seeing kindness is no more

times of love have turned to lore

Where has all the beauty gone

the lovely eve and blazing dawn

humans now are all just pawns

They had the chance to save the earth

to clean their mess and show their worth

and instead of killing choose re-birth

But time slipped on and they lost their way

most figured it would happen on another day

so in the end sweet home was left to pay

***

In my mind I know this is not yet true

yet slight is the chance to make it new

bring back life to this planet blue

As time is running out for you and me

for every animal, bird and tree

It’s all our jobs to set us free

Poem Art: The Sentry


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Years of giving

torn from the skinned Birch

to carry others

across rushing waters

while naked the Tree remains

rooted

watching

as the world walks away

Not listening

to the endless clawing on Jesus arms

the sucking tendrils

that have grown up

twisting themselves around

the age-old rings of Her heart

Move on! Move on!

whispering through the thousand hands

waving goodbyes to those

that left her standing

still

and siphoning life from

dirty earth thrown down

around Her

Immobile

a sentry seasoned with sight

the beacon to set others

on their way

But forever bound and grounded

in the place she chose

to be born

 

 

 

Small Town


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Sometimes I wonder how pathetic I am.

Today there was a post on my Instagram account (if anyone wants it, please just let me know) from one of my friends who is hiking the Appalachian Trail. Very cool. The AT goes very near where I grew up in Connecticut. A lovely little town in the NW region…a very little town.

It got me reminiscing. I honestly have way too much time on my hands these days, because when I get in one of these moods, I can really get on the track of things. First I went on Google. That came up with some pretty typical stuff: the town page and all. I wasn’t too surprised to find that one of my Ex’s was listed as a prominent figure on the list of ‘important’ figures in the town. The town sexton actually. I had to look that one up: a sexton. In this case, they may be referring to taking care of the town?

I had contacted him a number of years ago as part of a healing process. We were married very many years ago (and divorced). He was very glad to hear from me (thank goodness), which isn’t totally surprising as he was really a very nice man. He still lives in this beautiful town in the family home. Cool.

After the Google search, I decided to dive further and went to YouTube. This was where I hit gold. There was a video of the town, apparently one of many (all the others to be found in the town library), that actually was a bit of a historical and present day visit to it. The best part was that it had actual footage of my Ex!! There he was making maple syrup, just like his Dad did many, many years ago.

It kind of hit me (this is where it gets pathetic I suppose), how life goes. I remember going out on freezing nights and checking the temperature of the sap to make sure it didn’t burn. And I think to now: what an amazing gift to still be participating. It’s just the kind of life I envision–we had envisioned long ago. What happened?

I look back on so much of my life and wonder about it. How a part of me must have known that some of the people I picked were right, but then I couldn’t see far enough to stick with it. What was it in me that didn’t have the ability to stay?

And now I’m simply so jumbled about it all to even want to step into it all again. It all felt so much simpler when I was young. Looking at someone and thinking you could be with them. But when I was actually there–I always seemed to see something else.

Now I don’t know what I see these days.

It’s so easy to get lost in these fields of that little town; in the hope and the green and sounds of the stream. Is it all just something from long ago? Or will I someday walk again in a place and feel something is right?

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Poem: Peaceful World 


It seems a peaceful world 

with rabbit clouds gazing

and mockingbirds singing

crisp hymnals

It seems a peaceful world 

as the lime green 

endorfin drenched runner

appears happy to be done 

And the leaves

blow harmony 

to the gentle fingers of wind

It seems a peaceful world 

as the golden melt

of the pouring sun

slips down on

waiting waters

glazing it with riches

Yes

It seems a peaceful world 

as it wakes

again 

ready to start 

anew

Hieroglyphics 


This was not staged but rather I came across it exactly this way. It is special hieroglyphics and happens to have particular meaning in my life at this moment. It’s those synchronous moments that catch us and remind us that there is still magic if we pay attention. 

Even in a place where we may think the spirits have abandoned, they surprise us by leaving some message to say: we still visit if only you look!!

Poem: Stillness


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In stillness

times when I sat

hushed under ancient pines

back brushed up against wizened skin

small

yet safe

cradled silently

beneath an immobile mammoth

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In stillness

near a whispering brook

whose words spoke sense

when nothing else could

they drifted past

in bubbles of music

floating by

in ripples of spray

to be caught in moments

of calm

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And in stillness

sitting upon the hill

with warmth from above

creatures close by

and sharing the peace

near by voices are small

and my belly is round

while the world is spinning beyond

In stillness

In stillness

It lies