With intention, we align

my

understanding

deepens

daily

loving

everyone.

each

life

deserves

devoted

united

mindfulness.

Sammi Cox’s weekend challenge is to use “Muddle” to create a post with exactly 16 words.  Blessing and aloha!  When scarcity and confusion seem to reign, we can give each other breath and presence and sort out the muddle.  

Featured photo by PosterJackCanada.

 

In the fragile moments…

…love needs to run the show.~Thomas Huebl

Each factoid conflates and the
twittering ensues: a chirp of doubt
a caw of derision cues uneasy
flutters of the flock, buffleheads
suddenly alert. A silent bald
eagle swoops spiraling
a kick of panic, they rise
called to scatter, frantic.
It seems that things are breaking
away. The landscape shifts
earth shaking, heart aching.
Eerie, empty and the lap
of water here where I anchor
settle my electric nerves
though I may wish to fly
I find I’m rooted in relation.
How may I serve you?
Reactions seek ground. Out of
the box confined, away from
the flickering nervous screen
I bow before this glorious
life delightful flow
through me in ways
I cannot say. Silent now
leave the fray. Together
we will find a path
that’s kind. We go within.
Embrace the fear awaiting
I’m with you. In connection
we will hold a space
for what is true
emerging in our humble grace.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by: Conflate, Delightful, Kick and Anchor.

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.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by Adventure, Everything, Water, Glitch and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt Figure. (Rules for SOCS prompt, and why this poem is all over the place, “your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.”)

Betwixt and Between

“The world cannot be translated; It can only be dreamed of and touched.”~Dejan Stojanović

Soundcloud recording here.

In civilized company, I forget
the animal sounds I uttered in sweat
giving birth. That epiphany groaning
like a goddess instantly transformed
my self-perception informed that I am
woman, fierce and guttural, no longer
immersed in the deception of a pretty
thing. And no chagrin as I connected
to the earth, my purpose clear: to
mother this new life emerging in a
shocking strife. When life begins
and when it ends, we shatter.
The fragments of our created shell
no longer matter. Right now in this
dance betwixt and between, ears open
I am listening. A silent dog beside me,
both alert to early spring. Mating
red-tailed hawks chwirks and squirrels
kuk. Bluegrosbeak warbles a duet
with a Carolina chickadee’s fee-bee-baby.
How I wish that I could speak these
ancient ways, not cluck or twitter
cackle or jabber, a pure heart
sound offered and received. I am
a foreigner to myself and all my
cousins, listening in mystery
feet on the ground, as all
around me, beings praise and call.

Inspired by: Forget, Chagrin, Perception, Epiphany and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt Animal Sounds. The rules of SOCS are stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write. And even though I write fast, Saturday writing is always a source of chagrin as I watch my wandering thoughts spin out of control. Fun times, though. Try it!

 

She’ll Only Come Out At Night

Today in paradise I peer
through glass, looking out
my front door. My muse falls
into flowers praising morning.
I’m wary, casting careful
eyes on the woods, just there,
where black bears lumber
and bobcats spry and shy
leap into trees. Respect
is due. Butterflies and blossoms
and my meditative ways may
soothe the overwhelm of travel.
Far away from my comfort zone,
I’ve landed
barefoot in a new day
feeling the earth’s generous
embrace–a walker strides by
checking her pace, ears plugged
against the sweet and subtle
birdsong–it’s early still.
Some days I rhyme myself
to balance but last night
breath protested my constricted
places, as intimate lovers
will, dedicating the long hours
of darkness to struggles of will
finally waking bleary-eyed and
silent, alert for any signposts
leading to love’s healing light.

Inspired by looking out my front door at dew-kissed blossoms, Muse, Spry and Glass. Happy 02202020!

Soundcloud recording here.

We’ll Do It In The Street

I’ve been infiltrated by I can’t
which of course means I won’t
and having boundaries is scant
comfort when it means I don’t
complete these tasks. The crux
of the matter is in formation.
Around me are the thousand fucks
I gave yesterday. Causation
is circular: we round the corner
in firm outreach and find
like Little Jack Horner from
childhood nursery rhymes
illogical, misshapen riddles
from beliefs that stick around
even after stringent culling,
our reality so tightly wound.
And I’m sitting in the morning
of this strange town, prompted
and prod and given warning
today the lines of love songs cropped up
and duty done, I’m singing
down the streets, a happy puppy
at my feet, my love so far away
in space and time. Ah, honey,
in my heart you’re still so sweet.

Inspired by: Riddle, Crux, Outreach, Circular and all the many difficulties of incorporating my daily practice in new environs.

Soundcloud recording here.  (With added beats of Nylabone Grinds by my grand-dog-ter at my feet.)

Trying

And I would not be convicted by a jury of my peers.~Paul Simon

I receive my invitation to bitch
and frankly, all the dogs in the ‘hood
are howling, the uproar’s pitch
kidnaps serenity.

Ransom demands I rage against
inequality/moral scruples now cynical/
abandon tin-whistle marches through the capitol
when war is palpable.

We finally see the global military
empire feeds in battle.
Cages might rattle but I know
they will acquit before the trial.

The roiling unrest, ’cause shit…
The few dial in, take and defend
and we haven’t yet beseeched
snarling junkyard dogs chained out of reach

weaponized and mindless, intent to take
a bite of juicy steak
dangled in the empty air
a lure devised by a billionaire.

But we’re on our way, yipping and cowed
urged by machines’ monotone shrill/
inner peace unplowed/in overkill
we’re losing ground/the mystery

earth walled off and separate
out of time that hurries
us to our doom/it’s all gloom
until we see life’s unfair on the surface

but go deep: magnetic presence
powers us when we are locked
in sth/squabbling lies crafted
just to guide our energy/

that valuable asset
we so willingly provide.
Who gathers up our sweat
and gushes, well, at least you tried?

Inspired by Kidnap, Scruples, Acquit, Inequality and two dogs enjoying the beach near Lima, Peru.

Soundcloud recording here.