Creative Depths

A dragon wriggles from the squiggles
red-eyelashed coquetry sailing blue
seas in a yellow sky, giggles
and jiggles, a jaunt crossing right through

imagination—emerging wise
and wonderful to urge: paint more soon!
Not to bully, just expand the size
of reality—outside lampoons

elites have honeyfuggled so sweet
distractions praising someone else’s
created world—gasp—necktie tight. Meet
me in space, though they call it selfish

and disparage our superpowers.
We throw off the leash and find that we
rise majestic moving paint.  Hours
wild and free defeat powers that be.

Inspired by: Jaunt, Honeyfuggle, Lampoon and Bully. And painting squiggles with my grandson.

Beloved Sage

In the shower a long line of silver-
haired stunningly fierce missing faces.  Clear
this week for an ancient karmic river
with a window in time to enter here

if you’ll receive your distant missing parts
to meet, to dance, legacy integrate.
And I’m all in, this slow allow as hearts
sincerely no longer insinuate.

Reminded, tales entrance, means of control
differed each time, still, locked up and caged
and on through the ages. Once writ on scrolls,
the story’s old, alive.  Well met, dear sage.

Inspired by: Reminded, Missing, Legacy and Insinuate.

I’m In Tune

There’s a symphony that I hear in your heart, sets my head a’reeling.~Pete Townshend

Balanced here now she’s tuned right in on you
and I am entranced. I wish to sing my
own dance in the angel’s grace she’s imbued
with. If she doesn’t have wings, no doubt she sighs

over feathers birds drop at her feet. Strength
and clarity. She’s sure in her being,
pausing–as I assume he says, Don’t blink.
That’s good. She stills. He captures harmony.

Inspired by: Wish, Feathers, Assume and Balance. Featured image is a faded photograph of my best friend’s ancestress. When I saw it this morning, I heard The Who singing Getting In Tune, in response to the Stream of Consciousness Saturday’s prompt to look at a photograph, seize the first tune that pops into your consciousness, and write about that.  

Sing With The Power

What if, while waiting for hummingbirds we
noted the young oak leaf blown apropos
of a theme this grandma teaches simply:
nature gives what is needed, even though

it may not be what you want. Compensate
for limited vision. Look with your heart.
Blooming rainbows, singing flights, we create
with Gaia. Now I’m leaving out these parts:

butterflies, clouds, the trees and the ground, birds
and the cars on the street, this easel-art
celebrations of bugs. Fumbling words
to convey the moan of that train: a start.

Inspired by: what if, theme, apropos, compensate and a curious four-year-old grandson who insisted on including all the parts I’d left out of my morning poem. As I write this, he is singing, “Sing with me, sing with me!”

Dream The New

Our future calls us into now where we create miracles.

My grandson wants to build a spaceship; he’s
dictated a list of supplies for ease
in construction. He’s been talking all week
about his newly inspired desire. Bring
me your impossible ideas, please
create the improbable. Run and seek
the stars to illuminate the slime, green
and glowing, meaning zilch to what’s been seen.
It costs a pittance in the world that’s been
to shine with power and imagine when
the world’s aflame. We’re asked to honor dreams.
Remember, none of this is what it seems.

Inspired by Slime, Zilch, Newly and Pittance.

Nature’s Privilege

Birdsong glory-listening this morning
front porch, choosing love, calling to mourning
doves, our hearts aflame and voices tender
soft–magic–daily practice aborning

it’s like a wizards’ school, cue each other
special powers granted by earth mother
we face our anger and our fears with light
touches and words, deep presence gifts t’other

we clean the places we call home, we send
such strong assurance, blessed by nature, mend
the broken bridges. We cannot inure
we open to delight in the twist-end.

He’s four and powerful, his spirals drawn
and golden suns with green rays, oh, praise dawn
when with a light touch he urges me, wake,
our teachers gather, come before they’re gone!

Inspired by Golden, Inure, Twist and Privilege.

Featured image drawn by my four-year-old grandson this morning. “The Sun.”

Grandma’s Advice

East of the sun, west of the moon

close your eyes:

Who do you love?

A pot of gold?

The ring of truth?

The way we work

where the wild things are

I hope you dance!

Ahwoooooooo!

Plant intelligence and the imaginal realm

the lost words

potentiate your DNA.

Written for Björn‘s dversepoets prompt to write a book spine poem with these simple rules: 

1. Go through your collection on books, and note the titles.
2. Sort them so the titles form a poem.
3. Take a photo of the books.
4. Write down the poem.

 

 

New Moon, New Seeds

Love is everywhere. It protects the very heart of our beings. So it’s all right. Everything’s all right and always has been.~Jane Roberts

We’re trained from birth, our very words
that’s bad, that’s good, we cling, survival

seems impossible from our arrival
we gasp in poisoned air, injected

when we least expect it in a crazy
world where toxins are called medicine

we must endure misguided doctors’
incessant quackery studying separate

cells to proclaim a discovery, another
name to cloak the reaction

to the putrefaction of air and soil
and drinking water, full-scale slaughter

in the name of greed and promulgated
by the fear-porn screed.

We sit alone, we’re trained, perceive no choice
lower our voice, and even so the angry

sons shun their insane mothers
all dialogue blocked with dangerous others

the truth a sauce our diets now
prohibit, our only eyes for lies

as they exhibit the visual clues
of this unhealthy news and yet

if we can set aside our certainty
that harm is looming, dooming, carelessly

and simply quiet, presto, the tempo changes
the heart of the matter rearranges

the score and more, we realize
the love nature displays, miracles

every day in every moment we connect
to source, we laugh, we hug,

we understand, of course,
there may be malice withal

there is a greater force.
We plant the seeds, we open hearts, we call.

 

Everything was all right, always had been all right, it had only been their own anxieties and doubts that ever made it all seem wrong. They were all couched and safe, forever secure, forever jubilant at the heart of their own beings. There was never anything to be afraid of, if only they trusted the great sweet security that forever held the vitality of their beings, for they were all truly splendid, a part of a loving universe that cradled them forever in a safety and love literally beyond all comprehension.~Jane Roberts

Go Figure

The embers are cool, and I have lost
the eyes of long regard and so alone
I face my darkest corners, create
a ledge and perch watchful.

This is the glitch I spy
from far below, peeking with
frightened courage. Overwhelmed
by life’s adventure, everything

strained, the ice holding
beyond the boiling water.
If I could cut a romantic
figure, I’d persuade you to

look deep into my heart
the way I do and with such calm
kindness hold the sinewy
dark cords pulling insistent.

More and more space, there’s a
crowd and I can’t catch
my breath. Sidereal Sun’s in
Aquarius. Earth quickens

toward spring. Moon flirts
with fullness. Deep in spaces
of unclaimed dreams, do you
invite the end of the world?

Do you ask if you are worthy,
do you wish someone to show
exactly how to love?
Fairytale-rescues of

powerless, bound
by magical powers unseen.
I set out to see the world
and find love. And do we all?

Is love a luxury? All these words
of course lead me astray.
I sit in quiet, greet
each moment precisely.

And when a thought proclaims,
you’re not who/what/why/where
you should be, yes, and
I learn, oh, this is love.

 

Garland

Inspired by Flexible and Wordless Wednesday.