14 Thursday Aug 2014
Posted in Ancient ways, Nature, Poetry
29 Tuesday Jul 2014
Posted in Ancient ways, Mental Illness, Poetry, Reflections, Relationships
Tags
The ancient yogis said the universe
blinks on and off, and many of today’s
quantum physicists believe the same.
A neon sign blinked
outside the hotel window, rundown,
downtown LA, Rolling Stones
our background music,
while my boyfriend and I,
abysses of inexperience,
managed to have sex;
blinking neon, on and off,
much as the universe,
from being into void and back,
each blink a chance to
change and change again, so
how did Mick already know
that we would get no satisfaction:
paying for the hotel room
meant I would pay and pay,
talk of other women
manifested as affairs,
I would stay,
darkness would descend
and cloud his mind,
and all felt like the pull of gravity,
of fate, inevitable, forcing
us down the only path we saw
while outside the window
blinked the universe,
birthing other universes
with each blink?
25 Friday Jul 2014
Posted in Ancient ways, death, Past Lives, Poetry
Tags
Sixteenth century
In castle high
upon a stony Highlands ridge,
I lived for my clan;
my father and I septs, outsiders
accepted by the chief, allowed
into the brotherhood, blood brothers
I would give my life for; the clan
meant everything to me, to all:
home, family, safety.
One evening, as we rowdied
in the dining hall over venison and beer,
my closest friend, returning wounded
on his horse, named the clan
that did it, and then died.
While mother and sisters wailed,
so young, seventeen, dying
for a blood feud centuries old,
cause long forgotten,
bagpipes skirled,
the chief planned our revenge.
With moonlight
guiding us on rocky trail
around the mountain,
we found their camp,
guarding cattle;
as we attacked, they sprang
to their feet, ready;
with dirk across my throat,
I passed from this world,
my day of honor:
I died for my clan.
20 Sunday Jul 2014
Posted in Ancient ways, Love, Nature, Poetry, Relationships
In the movie Groundhog Day,
Bill Murray has to live the same
day again and again.
The day of sun and wind,
when we met at the Blue Danube,
would be my choice, if I could choose
one day to live
over and over.
We left and took a walk;
on narrow streets
you told me about growing up
in London, Irish Catholic;
by the beach I talked
about my life, laughing:
all my stories so sordid;
as kites soared high,
I felt free
to tell you anything.
I wouldn’t have to improve
my endlessly repeating,
already perfect day,
since I didn’t know yet
the chilly wind
meant you would soon turn cold.
Each year the groundhog,
on his day, comes out
and sees his shadow or he doesn’t,
predicting more of winter
or coming of an early spring;
I never heard this year’s prediction,
but it feels
like a long, long winter.
13 Sunday Jul 2014
Posted in Ancient ways, Love, Poetry
Tags
The queen of sensual pleasures
seated in a lush garden,
love flowing from her,
creating from her womb, her heart.
Let me awaken her within myself:
bathe and let the water
soothe me, arrange my hair, anoint
myself with lavender oil,
write a poem, imagine
my lover, the one I await,
touching me;
she brings all things to fruition,
wielding the profound magic
of desire.
10 Thursday Jul 2014
Posted in Ancient ways, Poetry, Sexual Abuse
Deep in the earth, I walk in a tunnel,
I cannot live only in the sunshine;
the sound of faraway water, or is it a cello playing,
a woman weeping?
Persephone, forced to spend
half of each year down in the darkness;
in those cold times
her mother Demeter searched and wept,
searched and wept.
Tunnel divides, I go left,
through an arched doorway;
stairs lead downward, light dims,
soft shadows gather;
here a niche in the wall:
Blue Willow teacup, doll size,
drawing of a fairy,
letter from my cousin Lynelle.
More stairs, now I feel the cello, the shadows
in my blood, my bones,
they must be honored;
down here, rooms I never enter,
I know enough already;
I stand outside each door
and weep.
03 Thursday Jul 2014
Posted in Ancient ways, Dreams, Nature, Poetry, Spirituality
Painting by Henri Rousseau, The Dream
Moon in the deepening dusk
awakens a vision of harmony,
each separate thing
part of the whole,
one with nature
and the mystery:
lions, elephant, snake,
bright-feathered birds
unmoving yet vibrant, alive;
plants growing before my eyes,
flowers fed by moonlight;
woman, strong, sensual, gleaming,
listening to the black man
play an endless melody
sent from the stars.
02 Wednesday Jul 2014
Posted in Ancient ways, Love, Past Lives, Poetry, Relationships
Tags
Beneath the brilliant sky
the dark sea heaves and rolls;
our boat lifts and drops
as you pull the oars,
guide us
towards the narrow inlet,
rocky cliff on each side.
Belongings in the bottom
of the boat, tied in an old shawl,
soaked with seawater.
In danger, pursued by the past,
our future lies between
the walls of rock.
If we can get ashore,
I know where to go.
28 Saturday Jun 2014
Posted in Ancient ways, Love, Poetry, Relationships
How steep the rocky path, how dark,
how often Orpheus must have longed
to look back and reach out his hand;
Finally he turned around, only to see her
become a shadow,
arms outstretched toward him,
floating down, down.
The I Ching says
I must not write or call you;
it says your love for me
must draw you up the path, must
overcome your fears and doubts.
I must not look back,
must not
reach out my hand.
21 Saturday Jun 2014
Posted in Ancient ways, death, Poetry
London, 1969;
Kenya, 1971 and 1972
Any afterlife heard of or imagined
already exists in another dimension:
Heaven, Hell, Valhalla,
the Summerland of pagans,
the paradise where virgins
await the Muslim martyr.
In London, two young men
bought a lion at Harrods. He grew
too big, so they released
him into the wild in Africa.
Nine months later, they came back,
visitors from a long-ago lifetime;
he remembered them: the love,
the joyful embraces on that granite slope.
That’s my afterlife, ecstatic
reunion with friends and relatives
from other, less lonely lifetimes.
