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Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

Equinox

A change comes.
A tap in the mind causes words
to drain like old stagnation
too long held;
to flow forth like living sap:
clear, with a hint of sweetness.

Thoughts race
down paths newly illuminated –
never before explored,
with unopened doors.

Possibilities, probabilities,
maybes and maybe-nots…
Power of choice lies within my hand,
my mind
is learning to remain open
to the air of autumnal dreams.

In this season of change
let me be free of fear;
let me know which doors to choose.

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My soul is a fallow field,
hallowed ground,
from which once sprouted green shoots
dream seeds with roots
that reach deep, deeper
seeking sustenance
from the dark earth.

Wild growth now springs –
stem, branch and leaf.
Nature’s bandage –
weeds germinate
in the absence
of carefully tended crops.

I lie in the tall weeds
and dream;
rootless for a time.
Clouds skim past the sun
and creepers come to blanket me
tendril by tendril.

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My path toward light is illuminated
by the simplest wisdom of faith:
To be defined not by what I hate,
but by what I embrace
And never to believe a fool
who says that what I love is foolish.
For my Goddess was beloved
millennia before the fool’s god was conceived
For she lives within us all
And she will endure –
Like anything so adored –
As long as people live to speak her name.

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Flame will seek out flame and grow;
The eye of the storm seems so small;
Faultlines reach snaking arms to each other;
Water of the flood pool together,
Finding our lowest points.

Nature schemes to teach us
To see beyond the destruction –
For, in fully embracing suffering
We can begin to see through it,
And to rise above it

Knowing that the Mother of us all
Planted the seeds of infinite potential
Not only as wildflowers
Ready to sprout from bare soil,
But also within our souls.

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I saw my face in a mirror
in a dream where I was lost –
in such childlike helplessness
I wept.

All around me faces and places
which should have been familiar.
They gave back no recognition
and, cold-shouldered, turned away.

Awakening I gaze into reflection
through a lens which turns light to dark,
switches the truth upside down;
blind through this maze I hunt.

Following future followed by past;
it takes more wisdom than I have
to know that I ought to pause
and speak to the present.

I have grown apart from me –
the child inside is sleeping,
and she must awaken from dreams
so we can comfort one another again.

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Christchurch Haiku

I’ve been meaning to blog this since my weekend in Christchurch, but I suppose I haven’t because I didn’t want to let go of it just yet. But nevertheless this is some of what it meant to me, in a few words.

Revisiting home
Flying through glorious dawn
Love every moment

Shaking in my shoes
Nothing like the thrill of this
Above natural laws

For a few hours
I am whoever I play
In amongst strangers

Pause and feel stillness
The river of time and motion
Rushing past my feet

Stop and breathe in place
Tranquillity comes, watching
As well as doing

Easier it is
To be alone when one is home
And not a stranger

Place of growing up…
Before it grows stranger to me,
Make it mine again

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Crude philosophy
While the clear day turns to night
And we journey home

I’m not sure how much I identify with the Buddhist belief that all life is suffering. Yes, it’s often easiest to recall the bad things in my past, and, sometimes, to see how they’ve shaped me. But what would I be without the love and joy I’ve known? It’s about that old balance between dark and light, destruction and creation, absence and presence. Never one without the other, and always with some comparison between the two… it’s only natural. Perhaps it comes down to this question: who would I be without the totality of my experiences and relationships? And who am I to regret these things?

Saving fleeting thoughts –
Another use for cellphone
But no one will reply

I am goddess-born
Sprout showing mother tree’s form
Is never cut adrift

Backwards Poem

May it never leave me
A voice from the inner child
I need this still
So I’ll never leave myself lonely
A sense of whimsy
Retaining kindness to self
The distillation of adulthood
The moon a silver coin on cloth
Floating gas orbs as pinpricks in velvet
A precious part of me sees stars
Knowing the rules to break them
Abstraction of knowledge
Growing up and growing down
Stalking my own truths

Spring cleaning my mind
Evicting stubborn dust bunnies
Letting moonlight in

Purest of haiku
Rarely flows from humble hand
Merely mundane words

Expression tricky
When haiku form only fits
Counting on fingers

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