Recently in Poetry Category

Irises.

1.

 Every time I turn the same corner

You take my breath away

 

2.

Greeted by blue and purple irises

Taking out the trash is fragrant joy.

 

3.

'We should walk on the plains,' you said.

Rusty gate creaked and clanged

Evening shadows fell on Flatirons.

We walked over rock, grass, sedge

Beckoned to muddy hollow

By fluttering shawls of blue

Bog mirroring sky.

Cicada choir buzzed, whirred, clicked

With soprano meadow lark solo

You inhaled perfume of iris

Kneeling as if in prayer.

Sun dropped behind foothills

And soaring above lark song

Coyotes chanted evening sacrifice.

Eternal blessed moment.

God's Oud

Tune my heart with your ruthless love, O Friend,

Even if I groan at the turning

My tight-held places

 Letting go reluctantly.

Cradle me in your hands,

O knower of my spirit,

Plucking my tender yearning

With your infinite Grace

Until my faltering human soul

Sounds your wild song of ecstasy.

 

White trumpet flaring into night
Pulsing moonbeam silver
Long stamen quivering, beckoning,
Heady intoxicating fragrance
Invoking mystic dreams
Inviting sacred journeys,
Call of love from datura to hawk moth.

Velvet vulval folds
Of crimson, pink or white
Concealing golden pollen dust,
Sweet, cool scent
Distilling tender tears
Wafting attar of prayers,
Call of love from rose to honey bee.

Snow-capped peaks trembling in lake's embrace,
Scent of meadows caressed by gentle breeze,
Aroma of ripe apples dropping in warm grass,
Waterfall tumbling over mossy cave,
Awakening weary limbs
Arousing spirit's yearning,
Call of Love Itself to human heart.

Dark lady, Great-great grandmother
Face lost in mystery
Only a fragment left to us
Your beautiful black hands.
Hands that received gold ring
From Shakespeare-loving Fabian George
Hands that rocked dusky baby girl Olivia
Hands that caressed ivory and ebony keys
Hands that guided pupils in arpeggios
Hands that patted smooth black hair of granddaughter Emily
And grieved her deafness
Hands that smoothed brows, darned socks, peeled apples
Hands crumbled to dust long since,
Reaching out from broken photograph.

Shaper of my sinews
Builder of my bones,
Fire of your sprit
Hidden in my cells
Kindled on what continent?
Do drums of Africa pulse beneath your skin?
Do rainforest dances quiver in your fingers?
Or did your great-great-grandmother pluck the vinar?

Dark lady of my dreams
Radiant black mother
Ancient grandmother
Half-glimpsed through smoky time
Headless goddess of the lightening bolt
Holder of the sword of wisdom
Take my small white hand in yours
Lead me from these fragments
To your mystery.

 

Traffic roars down Arapahoe Avenue

Past Conoco, Whole Foods, Mustard's Last Stand,

And my thoughts turn to you, Inunai-ee.

Have you given us just a name

Whose meaning most forget?

You left no monuments,

Only arrowheads,

Raised your dead on a scaffold tree.

The gold in these hills meant nothing to you,

You counted your wealth in ponies,

Abundance in buffalo.

You took no plough to the soil,

Though you fired the prairie,

So fresh grass would grow.

You built no roads or bridges,

Constructed no fences or walls,

Made your way without map or compass,

For you knew this land

Like your mother's face.

Settler's Park was your winter camp,

Sheltered from blizzards and gales,

On Haystack peak you watched for bison,

Raced your mustangs

Where now golf carts cruise.

Living lightly in the place of prairie dog and beaver,

You marked it only with your spirit.

Wisdom of fox and coyote,

Of jumping mouse, eagle and buffalo,

Unfolded in your stories and your songs.

On the forked sun dance tree

You pierced and hung,

Blessing this land,

With your selfless sacrifice.

Long and bitter was your road

From Sand Creek Massacre to Oklahoma,

Yet the Flatirons and the mesa do not forget you.

Firstborn among the nations--

For so do your myths call you--

May we, your younger siblings, learn from you

That a land cannot be bought with gold

Or won with cannon.

It belongs to those who know its ways,

Who heed its spirits,

Who walk on it with softly moccasined feet

And dance into its heart,

 Forever.

 

 

Spirit of Arodene, I call to you!

Attic whose walls I painted sunshine yellow,

Study where I sat at oak desk reading Cicero,

Cozy corner where I sipped early tea with Nanny

 Bay window splendid with tinselled Christmas tree

Parent’s room where we knelt round the bed for morning prayers—

Arodene, your gracious rooms, your comfortable spaces

Taught me ways of hospitality and ease.

May your walls ever ring with children’s laughter!

 

Spirit of the hearth, I call to you!

Fireplace Dad designed with Suffolk White brick,

Place where Yule log burned, where crumpets were toasted

And forty five New Years welcomed.

Hearth where we sat sharing memories of Dad

May your warmth remain in my heart!

 

Spirit of the garden, I call to you!

Fragrant arch covered in rambling rose,

Peace roses lifting dewy heads to greet the day

Lawn where I sunbathed, getting freckles instead of tan,

Terrace where sheltie Magnus barked at imaginary sheep,

Pampas grass where Marmaduke lurked,

 Orange body ready for tiger pounce,

You taught me to create beauty wherever I go.

 

Spirit of the horse chestnut tree, I call to you!

Your glorious candles lit our springtime

We gathered your tough brown conkers for childhood games.

May you be protected!

 

Spirit of Christchurch oaks, I call to you,

Home of woodpecker and tawny owl!

Your winter shapes stark against twilit sky

Your tender budbreak and your sheltering shade,

 My girlhood friends who never fell out with me,

Your gnarled forms taught me of strength and steadfastness.

 

Spirit of Orwell estuary, I call to you!

I rowed and sailed your channels,

Walked your shores.

When the train pulled in sight of you

Heart leapt, for I was home.

By your sunset dappled waters

I heard the call to heal.

May you ever flow within me!

 

Spirit of the saltmarsh, I call to you,

Where samphire and sea aster grow!

Mud glistening in sun at low tide

By the Orwell, the Stour, the Deben,

Skylark hovering as he sings

Cry of gulls and pipe of meadow pipit

Oystercatchers feeding along tideline.

Your tang lingers in my nose,

Your wide skies taught me the way of spacious heart.

 

Rooms we filled with laughter, tears and song,

Places I touched with feet, with hands, with oars,

Where I listened, dreamed and meditated,

Where I walked with those I love,

 Blooming in your care like the peace rose and the sea aster,

You have shaped me and I have shaped you.

Stay with me, spirits of place,

 Let us walk together still!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Who binds unto himself a joy

Doth the winged life destroy…”

 

Where bumblebee makes love to purple bee balm

And blanketflowers toss their leonine manes,

 Nodding onion weeps and wild rose blooms

Where ponderosa pines cast fragrant shade,

Where Flatirons lick the sky like great rock flames

Where tallgrass waves head high to me,

 Shoulder high to you,

Where warbler chirps and pewee cries by stream,

Where smooth black chokecherries burst upon the palate

Tickling it in unexpected ways,

Where sticky geranium calls to us

To kiss the joy as it flies,

There I will walk with you, my love,

In eternity’s sunrise.

Ma’s Song

I do not make my abode

On the lofty mountain peaks

For the way of ice and snow

Is not my way.

I have pitched my tent beside you, friend,

In the valley of human experience.

Bring me your tender joys

And I will feed them corn

From my own hands

And take delight as they chirp beside my door.

Give me your mewing sorrows;

I will cradle and stroke them lovingly,

For they are mine.

I hang your tears

As prayer flags in the breeze,

I wear your smiles,

A garland on my breast.

Let me iron the creases of perplexity

And sweep the dust of confusion from your heart.

I will untie your heavy boots of weariness

And worship them on the altar of our longing.

 I pour myself into your thirsty cup,

Offer my grief as ointment for your wounds.

The ringing of your laughter and your cries

Has called me to this holy pilgrimage.

I have come to you from the lofty mountain peaks

For the way of ice and snow is not my way.

My Love for You is as the Fountain of Tasnim

 

You will recognize in their faces the brightness of bliss.

 They are made to quaff of a pure drink that is sealed.

The sealing of it is musk

And the admixture of it is a water of Tasnim

 A fountain from which drink they who are drawn near.

Holy Quran

 

My love for you is as the fountain of Tasnim

In the green meadows of paradise.

 

In the valley of undisturbed peace

This love is a fountain of mingled joy and tears.

In the wine-cup of one taste

It is the bittersweet water of human experience.

 

My love for you is as the fountain of Tasnim

In the green meadows of paradise.

 

On the journey of alone to Alone

This love is a trembling hand of companionship.

Amid the lofty crags of solitude

It is a downy eaglet, crying for nurturance.

 

My love for you is as the fountain of Tasnim

In the green meadows of paradise.

 

In the deep velvet night of haqiqat

This love is a beacon of warmth and fellowship.

On the uncharted ocean of unity consciousness

It is a lighthouse of pathos and compassion.

 

My love for you is as the fountain of Tasnim

In the green meadows of paradise.

 

In the boundless expanse of serenity

My love for you is an ache of tenderness

In the silence of this unfettered heart

It is the poignant melody of human sorrow.

 

 My love for you is as the fountain of Tasnim

In the green meadows of paradise.

 

This love is stronger than death

It conquers distance and time

For it is the shimmering play of appearance

Within the radiant void.

 

My love for you is as the fountain of Tasnim

In the green meadows of paradise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apples

 

Seven red apples and one green tennis ball

Bobbing in foam on the creek.

They float a few feet down,

Turn, sail back again,

Caught in an eddy current.

For a moment the tennis ball seems to escape—

Moves almost to the edge of the pool

But a bigger eddy catches it

And back it comes again.

 

Friends, beware the eddy currents of samsara.

Keep to the swift midstream

Go straight to the vast ocean.

 

 

Mother’s Feet

 

Mother, the touch of your dancing heel

Plunges the world into dissolution

The sparkle of your toe jewel

Creates the universe anew.

All the wise men of the world

Are just tiny jingling bells on your anklets.

Place your foot on my head!

 

 

The Pearl

 

My beloved is a priceless pearl

Hidden in the desert of the world.

Holding a bag of gold

I searched every bazaar

Yet I could not buy the pearl.

Shedding a thousand tears

I dived to the ocean floor

Yet I could not find the pearl.

Heaving a thousand sighs

I soared to the mountain top

The pearl was nowhere to be seen.

 

Friend, look in your own heart.

The priceless pearl

Is waiting for you there.