Category: poems

  • Ariadne, Mistress of The Labyrinth (Poem)

    I am no maiden

    to be approached with shining countenance

    or offers of love and wealth

    I will laugh and show you my empty hands

    only the foolish think that another can give them

    a charmed red thread to lead them to safety

    I know the secret of the labyrinth-

    have always known- and will freely share:

    no key, no secret, no hidden escape

    we each stand in the center of a self-created maze

    you alone know your way through the twists of your heart

    go and walk

  • Lotus Cushion Of Main Street (Poem)

    I sit within the silence of distraction held by the noise of morning’s rush

    rumble of trains and shriek of car alarms

    industrial counterpoint to ongoing birdsong and chatter of squirrels

    louder than any of these the clangor of mind

    bang and buzz of thoughts going here there off in every direction

    follow me follow me follow me each one cries

    I pay every due a brief nod of acceptance bid farewell continue to sit

    aware in the swirl of cacophony

    not yet gone beyond but here and here and here

  • Hidden Lands (Poem)

    as a child I moved so easily between this world and hidden lands

    that I did not realize that this was not a usual thing

    one step was all I needed, one breath

    and the noise of streets and people fell away

    into a great vast quietude in a shadowed realm

    I sat in silence within a fellowship of ancient trees

    where they shared stories from worlds yet to be

    in a language that I had always known

    eventually I would return to the flash and hum of this-born life

    subtly altered each time by forgetting who I was

    though when the wind blew through the leaves, I heard

    remember remember remember

  • Late Harvest (Poem)

    in the field behind the house I find a hole

    deep enough to hold grief hidden behind unshed tears

    I fill it with all the sorrows the world has known

    walk back to await dreams in the night

    in the morning I dip my hands into the new dirt

    bring them muddy to my face

    inhale the scent of deep sown happiness

    then spread my fingers so that laughter trickles to the ground

  • Elemental (Poem)

    body made of dirt and rocks

    mouth filled with bones and feathers

    heart dug into a hole in the field

    mind weighted with rain-filled clouds

    such fundamental knowledge

  • Break Your Heart Open (Poem)

    not a stranger

    someone whose days I do not know

    journeying to another shore

    my heart breaks with this knowledge

    so should yours though you do not see

    her smile filling her eyes

    her face mapped by life still being lived

    let it touch you nonetheless

    this is how we love each other

    our hearts fractured by beautiful sadness

    our hearts broken open

    (for Beryl)

  • The Crows (Poem)

    air so heavy with moisture that every breath begs for rain

    vain hopes that the sky would empty at least for a time

    and walking would be easier without the hot wet drape

    clouds could return to above where once they belonged

    the crows know something, as they throw their cawing back and forth

    doomsayers on chimneys, sentinels on powerlines, guardians in fields

    they wait but in anticipation of storm break? a murder, a murder, a murder

  • How To Open A Door/My Door (Poem)

    to get to the door I had to move

    a box a chair a screen

    and then the door was open

    I stepped outside but could not leave

    the door remained

    to enter again would have to be opened

    so I found and placed in front

    a chair a box a screen

    relieved that I would know how to reenter

    I set out upon my walk

    doors can be so problematic

  • Go Ahead And Try (Poem)

    push books behind shelves or remove them altogether

    their very existence threatens something you cannot define

    reading itself a subversive act taking the reader unmonitored

    into a private interior realm where anything could happen

    better not to let people read but to let them be read to

    for better control and shape of ordinary minds

    kill all the writers who will not give in

    shutter the libraries bookshops and schools

    think that in a few generations people forget

    beware

    words will appear in the dead of night

    scrawled on walls and down streets

    written on stones left in doorways

    scribbled on leaves to drift in the wind

    people will read them

    someone will always remember how

    you will not win

  • War In Perpetuity (Poem)

    we lucky ones never fought in war

    but we all love some who have

    war that people argue over

    tell stories about or refuse to discuss at all

    war that took them away and sent them back

    kept part of them in some far away place

    war that made strangers of their hearts

    sent their eyes into a distant gaze

    war that continues to wreck them

    wrecks us all as we try and fail

    knowing this we decide again and again

    that we will fight wars and

    fighters will come home or not

    in the end none escape

    we cannot seem to learn