Inspirations: Poetry

Winter’s Valentine

A garden inside Rolls from deep sleep A long ago lover, Sacred to the beloved, Reaches out in green longing. Has the stone been rolled away? Is the moment ripe? “Not yet.”   “Soon” Scarcely vibrate The quivering nose, First to sense wet earth, The field of Bluettes… The perfume under supple arms  Lifted in surrender, On the possible “yes,”  Love waits Anxious to be known. The back of winter’s bleakness Broken by memory, The lover, the gardener, The ripeness of the heavens.

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Holy Ground-Holy Sky

In the sacred hour, Known to owls and the mis-begotten,  Barred doors slant open Materia Magicke seeps through. Ageless wisdom thresholds To take the hand Inward to the earth’s center. Out by the birdbath and ancient Oak. The royal sky spreads skeletal in Ice-dark diamonds. Glistening through shadows Patterned on hoar frost. Winter’s constellations; Hydra, Cepheus, Cassiopeia, Prick memory of time-travel Far away homes Once known in other births. Tonight Akashic Records open  Hoped for memory briefly glistens As the Great Horned cries, Time stops -Soon enough daybreak return. To honor the sacred mysteries of the year’s shortest day, the Winter’s Solstice, along with a Full Moon Lunar Eclipse, stop! Breathe! Dream!  Moving forward into unknown, mystical territory, retain strong, stalwart bones of the past as you dance into the magic and the mystery of returning light.  May Grace, healing, joy, peace, solace, redemption, and love be yours.

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Dying Lights

Liquid amber light, Fallen from trees Too full to hold Indian Yellow- Cad Red- Burnt Sienna, Quivers the air, Drawn from a sky Tumbling up from the ground Exuberance imploding Leaving life layer upon layer. Some remain. I remain Wondering Will my death to be thus? A last leaf with jewel encrusted seams sewn delicately to my branch In hand over hand stitching, Exquisite silken luxe Heavy toward dying, Wrestling October winds In last will to glory, Fulsome as the Carmine raiment Of a Three-Tailed Pasha Readied for his funeral procession. .  

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The Last Stillness

The absolute stillness Fell from the sky A silken silence Parachuting over Breathless everything Opening the door To summer’s truest moment, Ripe. engorged At tipping point Standstill before death. Because I stopped She shuddered Revealing her timeless land, Wrapping her color Around my naked eyes, Scenting my skin in green heat Nudging my quivering body To lie invisible, Open to her embrace.

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Dog Days

Dog Days Floating in the still, dark pond Summer stars drop from the sky Liquid bodies circle, touch, and glide Permeable frog-skins Opening to moonlight, Scented in weight of poisonous Brugmansa. Sirius, Leo, Cassiopeia, Heavenly bodies Circle liquid space Reflecting one another Equally profound and beautiful Universe within universe Resonating wonder.

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Torpid Heat

Torpid Heat Lying heat-burned under stars Blazing a blue night sky Smells enter the lizard brain, Limbic pleasure centered within Rose, wisteria, gardenia, Scented layers Circling the darkness Return memory of summer nights When 16 was everything, Is everything searing First date, the over-big corsage, and ‘I’m sorry I hurt you’ bouquet. Ancient memory-lizard memory Moving within again.

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Questioning the Light

Dreams lie unspent behind sight Too dim for visions Not yet visible, For eyes hooded by Silver shadows of the moon. We lie in wait To sabotage the day, Consuming only golden apples of the sun, Mistrusting rainbow hues. As dutiful soldiers overlooking orders, “Eyes dead ahead, attach bayonets!” Will we surrender the saber To see 10,000 veils?

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Bone Light

Before it falls into night shades The light lies cold-sucked, desiccated Of every color-cell but bone. marrow light Insists the inner odyssey Five senses paralyzed Allow only the barren, Skeletal on the horizon Withstanding loneliness. Rumi would say, “I am here.”

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