No other way to be
Let it all out
Circumambient sweet
No need to fight it
Grown in goodness
From a seed
Abundance for me
Surreal reality
Let it be
Smells like teen spirit
Nature
The Place of Repose
The feathered bird flips lightly on the low bough and peers
Suspiciously at fronds of smoke waving past his ears
Roundly Red and pale Peach bellies, proudly hide and seek
Circling hoard of humans who visit once a week
Curiously they walk below, felling trunks, digging peat
Bouncing round the fire waving sticks with things to eat
Harmlessly they shape our wood into a tiny home
A private nest, motionless, watching while Red roams.
The Deep
Even deep disappointments cannot be drowned;
They will rise and inflate and infect and abound.
Happy are those who suffer no ill;
For all the rest, choose – sweet or bitter pill?
Photo credit: Chip Phillips image from an article: ‘The Explosive potential of methane frozen beneath Abraham Lake’ (Canada)
Horizons open out behind and before my eyes
Where once closed lids were anointed by the sky
A feast of coloured feathered wings adorn the quiet street
Where once a common sparrow was admired
Sprigs of white blossoms litter the greenway edges
Where once the swarm of pests had devoured
A window bush explodes in yellow flowers and vivid green
Where once the worm had eaten all bud and leaf
The Springing Sun adorns my bedroom mirror and wall
Where once the light was blinding and the shades my coverall
Pale green new leaves float dreamily on the warm soft breeze
Where once apologies for the diseased tree next door
A drone of bees parade along the front blooming tower
Where once a drone of ghostly voices furled my brow
Little boy lambs bleat delight in hands and friends
Where once they fended alone as eagle descends
The tower clock is bypassed for the bustling doctor’s street
Where once the sanctity of pillowed pews was sweet
Hopeful conversations in the sun and houses meet
Where once mere imaginings of popular masses to greet
How ready as we’d ever been to step into Unknown
Where once control had reigned and error was shown
Faces, I daily pray and long to see an Image old
Where once their living wisdom was untold
Gracious Spring Tide
Here Freedom lies
I’d lost the people I loved. In the midst of the daily decisions and jaw-clenching nightly invocation, all the notable ones were scarce and silent. Anger, sadness, and pain rolled around my vital organs and stuttered my speech meditating on thoughts of misdeeds and words misspoken that persisted in my mind. Here lies life, the new day begets another. This solemn song is sung in chorus in palliative waiting rooms, tall stories forgotten and oft-loved ones replaced by diagnostic faces – with wry, stale smiles. A hand lies upon them, hemmed in front and behind, an eye for an ego, release in freedom lie.
Terra Firma
Down well-trodden trail
a chasm opens beneath
gazing down dreamily
the worlds of ancients meet
look down at all the hours and days
the rhymes, signs and verses
words and tokens exchanged
between us
The earth envelopes it
cast down to what lies beneath
all those endless numbered days
those staunch and bending ways
Now only soft firm ground lies
sighs gingerly between my feet
abundance of life groans
all around me
but yet I am still and quiet
longing for tomorrow once more
Featured image: Twig Bench by Alexia Wedding on Pinterest
Shallow mirror
Reflecting heaven’s light
captured by stillness in breath
obscuring the shallow beneath
stones settle buried at rest
Season of singing
I love all the unseen things about you
I wait for them to make themselves known
a word, a look, a gesture, a smile
a gift of Love – one treasure I own.
When I stand before the body, in the flesh
I am confused. It’s You that I miss.
I respond in words I don’t understand
I lose part of myself in this.
Waiting for the unseen,
the centre of our being
to come forward again
In the Spring.
When you play, your work, your dream
it is there – the unseen
making music in my ears
as sweet as a song of songs.
Sweet fruit. Spring flush
Eat, dear friends, and drink your fill of love¹
The days were Made for this.
The season of singing has come.²
Love stronger than death
burns like a Mighty fire
Many waters cannot quench
Nor rivers sweep it away.³
By day the Lord directs his love,
at night his song is with me—
a prayer to the God of my life. –Psalm 42:8
Image source: ‘Looking through the trees to the stream’ by John Groves
Iron clad blood red
Nos Ferrato: We, the Ironclad (excerpt)
Ashes in lashes,
Dust becomes rust
Enter this Temple,
in You I trust
.
Three stones at the altar
Five moors to the creek
Seven days for hunting
Nine chains that peak
Ironclad crosses
the blood that seeps,
red through this armour,
wounds what weeps…
Enter this Temple,
enter it full,
From the grove, the forest —
my Lord, my Rule
(C) Christine Ueri
Illuminate
It is not a situation where
what you emanate
reaches me unchanged,
to reflect what you radiate.
It is the essence of my being
to take in and absorb
the streams of mercy
that flow out from your source;
feed me and make me whole,
make me grow beyond my limits –
strong, broad, I tower over all.
You give your all to me,
I soak up your energy
preoccupied with you
Until the fall..
