Wednesday, September 28, 2016

HAWK



Captive, he stands,
chained to his perch,
facing west,
the setting sun warm on his face.
Slowly, his great wings rise,
lift up,
the wind familiar
under his feathery pinions.
Blissful, staring into the sun,
a zephyr ruffling his feathers,
this creature of the air
forgets his tethers
for the moments
that he is remembering
Flight.


for Sumana's prompt at Midweek Motif: Souls Caged and Free. This prompt reminded me of something I read some time ago, about wild birds caged in a recovery centre, who would gather as the sun set and face into the wind, stretching out their wings. I am certain they were remembering the joy of flight and freedom.

Friday, September 23, 2016

A DISSERTATION ON RIVERS


Elaho River
Jon Merk photo
                                         


The river of love can 
knock you to your knees,
when that tall dark stranger's heart
develops teeth that would
consume your essence, 
if you allowed it-
a napalm strike that levels 
the landscape of the heart,
scorched earth devastation
in its wake,
from which all of your foliage
must begin to grow anew.


This is when you will discover that love
- real love, not napalm-love -
is the river, the ocean, and the droplet, 
one drop an ecstasy on the tongue
after times of great thirst.


After passing that class,
you enter Being 101,
discovering your true identity: 
minute, one solitary drop in the turbulent sea,
and vast, part of the ebbing and flowing,
of the largeness
of the ocean itself.


Fall in love with the way
the moon splashes stardust
on the surface of the river,
irradiates the pond with an 
unearthly radiance,
lights a silver pathway across the lake.
Beyond, the dark and lumpy 
mountaintops huddle
like the hunched shoulders 
of an indolent giant,
the moon a bauble for him to bat 
from side to side.


Let the evening breeze whisper 
endearments in your ear,
translated by the silvery timpani 
of the leaves, falling 
from their accustomed branches
without attachment, without regret, 
free of fear.


Learn to fall like that,
in love with the whole world,
and you will never
be alone again.
Allow your heart
this most glorious
pilgrimage.

One from 2013, my friends. Shared with the Poetry Pantry. See you There! 


Wednesday, September 21, 2016

On Gentle Paws

The new dark is creeping in
On  gentle paws,
nibbling at the late afternoon light.

Soon lamps and crackling fires
will replace those  soft summer evenings,
full of children's voices.

I pile the pillows high,
set out the fleecy blankets,
stack up the books,
like nuts for a winter squirrel..

We are at the turning of the seasons
once again,
the new dark creeping in
on gentle paws.

For Susan's prompt at Midweek Motif ...Equinox.

Saturday, September 17, 2016

A Windigo Wind



A Windigo wind blows across the land,
warning us that we have been taking
more than we need,
and putting nothing back.
It is trying to tell us
we need to go back
to the Old Times,
when man and nature
lived in harmony,
and no action was taken
without consideration for 
the seventh generation.

A big black wolf is wandering
through my dreams and through my heart,
wolf spirit,
Windigo of the wolf clan,
howling a lament
at the destruction
of his habitat,
the starvation of his young,
the extinction
of his tribe.

I am swimming a wide river,
farther than I have
the strength to go,
when, under me,
lifts the body of a great turtle,
who supports me to
the farther shore.

I am lost at sea in a thick fog
and cannot find home
when a pod of killer whales,
sensing my distress telepathically,
encircles my boat
and guides me to shore,
to my own dock,
then glides silently
into the night
and away.

Nature tries to help us.
Creatures show us the way.
But in our noise and clamor,
in the tumult of our souls,
we cannot hear them.

The forest is deep and dark,
and there are spirits here.
I look, and look again,
and all the trees are rearranged.
Shapeshifters, shadows,
flit from tree to tree, 
and a mournful Windigo wind
sings through the branches.

Owl, Oracle, Guardian,
protect me as I go.


A poem from 2013, shared with the Poetry Pantry at  Poets United.

* In the film, The Great Wind, Windigo, punishes a young man for his greed, for wanting more than he needs. Wikipedia describes a Windigo as a legend of the Algonquin people, a cannabalistic spirit that can possess humans in times of famine and who is to be guarded against.

The event with the killer whales really happened to an inspiring woman I met once,  who lives among the whales in Simoon Sound. Alexandra Morton has dedicated her life to the well being of the whales and to raising the alarm about how fish farms endanger wild salmon habitat.

Friday, September 16, 2016

Waking From the Dream



In the 60's and 70's
we were wide-eyed, long-haired 
barefoot children,
full of love and peace,
placing flowers in gun barrels,
saying Hell no, we won't go
to the war machine.
Walls were crumbling.
Consciousness was expanding.
Almost, we changed the world.

The status quo, challenged, 
was alarmed and fearful.
One by one, we watched
our golden heroes fall
to assassins' bullets.
Our dreams went fast asleep;
the status quo regained its footing,
and it wore heavy boots.

Now, we awaken to the nightmare.

Yet, I ponder:
if the global consciousness has created
what we're living now,
so could it create
a world of social justice.

I feel consciousness accelerating 
on the planet,
see the Rainbow Children  
arriving in response.
We might yet stand together
as 7.4 billion souls longing for
a peaceful, balanced world.

But the clock is ticking.
Can dreams happen
overnight?


Thursday, September 15, 2016

Wild Geese



The wild geese flew over my head this morning, their honking stirring that need in me that longs for the wild places. I stood in the yellow field and watched them go, my heart lifting with the beating of their wings.

I can feel fall closing in. The breeze off the canal last night had that fresh scent with a tinge of wildness, that tells of rain and snow-kissed winter air on the way.

I am ready for the season to change. I love them all, each having its own pleasures. But perhaps I love fall best, with its oranges and yellows, its jack-o-lanterns grinning along the side of the road, the hint of wood-smoke in the air as people try to warm their chilly houses.

I pile the books up high - the ones I'll read all winter while the wind howls through the trees, and rain batters the windows. I'll look up, bemused, watch the weather cavorting through the treetops out my window, then plunge back deep into the page. I journey far, without ever leaving my comfy purple bed.

The days are shortening, easing us towards winter darkness, taking back the daylight that I miss so much through the long gray Alberni winters.

Yet I'm ready for it, too, with its cozy indoor rhythms, and the serene passage of slow and quiet days. Safe and warm in my little house, I'll watch another winter pass, moving ever towards the promise and possibilities of next spring.


Wednesday, September 14, 2016

We Appreciate You!


Mary Kling


She keeps a low profile, 
declines being featured,
doesn't want a lot of fuss,
just steadily steers our little boat
through the blogosphere,
as sure as clockwork,
reliable as sunshine
after rain.

She is quick to thank everyone else
"for all you do",
but I am sure she doesn't think a lot
about all she does, week after week, 
month after month , year after year,
keeping this site open
to encourage and support poets -
all for the love of poetry,
for her work is given freely,
with no thought of return.

I contemplated the prompt "Appreciation",
as there are so many things to appreciate,
in nature, in the animal world, in humanity.
But when I think about how much Poets United 
has meant in my life 
and the lives of so many others,
I had to take this chance to say:
"Mary, we appreciate 
YOU!"


I can feel her blushing from here. But really, Mary, you deserve a ton of thanks for keeping Poets United going all these years. I also tip my hat in acknowledgment of Robb Lloyd, the founder of Poets United in 2010, who responded to my question at the Blogger forum as to where I could find other poets, by saying: "Why don't you try Poets United?" I did, and it changed my life.

for Sumana's prompt at Midweek Motif: Appreciation. Of course, my appreciation extends to the staff and all of our members as well. But Mary does the steering, quietly, without fanfare. So this one is especially for her. Smiles.