Category Archives: Poetry

Rhythm of Renewal

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Summer
faint edge of yellow
an otherwise green, lush leaf
Autumn change tiptoes

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Autumn
leaves blow, scatter, scour.
Earth; Life: naked, preparing.
Cleansing snows begin.

winter

Winter
seeds—dormant, resting
under plate-glass layers of cold—
The melting shall come.

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Spring
Pan flute trills. We stir.
New bursts forth as regal gems
Greening comes again.

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Lodestone

The soul I now carry has had many names
through centuries of ascensions.
When finally it is taken home,
What shall it be called?

Which of the many names will it take
Which will it be known by
Or will it have a new name?

When there is no more separation,
Will it finally know its name?
Will it know what it was named
so many years before?

Towers As Angels

tower close upI

I
Around the tower, the gusting wind rolls
the leaves, lifting them to take flight
before laying them gently in the grass.

Leaves decay and enrich the earth.
But the tower stands as it has for a century.
Its rocks enrich nothing but our illusions.

It solidly stands as a testament to our fears
our grief and our pain.
Letting nothing in; it holds only its own.

II
An angel in disguise, the tower stands firm.
Rejoicing in the leaves, playing with the wind,
Protecting and freeing what dwells inside. read more

Love Songs in the Ether

A weed,
That’s all it was.
Growing through a crack in the concrete gutter,
Cut down just as it began to stretch its leaves
two west-east, two south-north up a pulpy stalk.

A foot high at most when leveled at the curb,
It was left to wither in the heat until
its destroyer came to toss it away.
At least it wasn’t pulled up by its roots.

A weed, that’s all it was.
A disruption. Itself disrupted.
But also, and more,
A poultice, a tea.

It will grow again from the tenderest of root tips
and unashamedly stretch its leaves, two north-south,weed two east-west towards the sun.
Doesn’t it deserve the same consideration as a rose? read more

Evening

EVENING
The candle gutters, puddles.
Hills and valleys of scented wax
form around its base, branching out
into overlapping prayers,
leaving tiny triangular voids between:
Places for the Soul to linger.

Cathedral                          Cathedral photo taken at Rockford Park, Wilmington, DE, USA

Song of Songs, a responsive reading

(Directions to the choir master: for alto and baritone voices. To be performed quietly but with authority.)

altos:
Song of the Author
Song of the beloved

baritones:
A lamp for my journey
A light for my soul

altos:
Bright shining in the early
morning
Still visible at noon

baritones:
A quiet place to lay my head
to hear
The pulsing of the ocean

altos:
Soul of my soul

baritones:
You are

altos:
In everything throughout;
(pause)
Soul of my soul

baritones:
You are

altos:
The Absolute, the Only;
(extended pause; to be whispered)
Soul of my soul, you are

baritones:
(to be whispered)
Adored. Infinite. Always. read more

Early Dawn Meditation

I walked, albeit carefully,
in far-flung galaxies,
barely impressing the ground,
leaving space for others’
wanderings.
I let my atoms absorb their being
and leave particles of myself.

All this between rising and breakfast.

Sunrise