Category Archives: poem

NaPoWriMo: Thirteen Weeks

Give, Receive, Love

With open heart and willing hands I give to you my gifts

I lay them on the blooming altar to do with as you wish

For when I walk in faith and trust I take such grand adventures

But they never seem to work quite right unless I allow surrender

With open mind and willing heart I will receive your blessings

I wrap them up with loving arms the joys of not repressing

For when I walk in grace and trust, I gain such grand adventures

They always flow as smooth as water, these my greatest treasures

With sacred heart and open mind I’m willing to offer love

As I give so shall I receive from all Watchtowers, below and above.

For when I shine in spirit love, I find a peaceful center

With conscious thought and mindfulness the Otherwhere I enter.

NaPoWriMo 040415: Sipsy

NaPoWriMo

NaPoWriMo

Fried Green Tomatoes At the Whistle Stop Cafe, Fannie Flagg

I knew the love that woman had was something deep woods

It was something that was taken for granted, but everyone understood.

You do not cross that line between what is wrong and what is good

Not without the skillet in hand bouncing off that head of blood.

I knew the love that woman had was something a thief would rue

It was something everyone claimed to not know, but we already knew.

When she looked into my eyes before that blow bid Frank his adieu

I grinned and nodded approval at her, because a mother’s love is true.

NaPoWriMo: Feeling So Deeply

NaPoWriMo

NaPoWriMo

IT HURTS!

I heard my Gram scream in the desolate silence

It was early January, out in the country, snow to navel

five blanket kind of freezing and she was screaming.

I jolted awake, scrambling beneath the cocoon of blankets

She screamed as if the hounds of hell were chasing her

When I reached her side, she was five years old.

I rocked her back to sleep.

IT HURTS!

I walked into my home with hope shining brightly

on legal sized paper declaring my parental rights

The phone rang, it was handed to me.

I listened as the perfection I imagined

threw me to the floor unable to support my vision

ripping a universe apart with six words

unable to support the weight of my sorrow as I screamed

IT HURTS!

I rode the elevator upwards without hope, holding knowledge.

I waited patiently for the doctors to return to the room

waited but already knew what they’d discovered.

He was dead. I was alone. There was a void of pain.

An echo of maybe and an absolute removal from now.

When I leaned down to kiss the cold skin of his once warm forehead

I was pulled away for my contamination of the saint with my sinner’s taint.

IT HURTS!

He packed the last of his things into the suitcase.

My eyes barely opened from the days of begging on my knees

My lip bloodied from our last confrontation

when he tried to burn the music out of my soul

when he tried to show me who ruled the roost.

I sat on the cold slab floor with brown tile hiding my shame

I deserted his God. I left him with the pile of discarded cardboard.

NaPoWriMo: indulgences

Drip your bloodline to mingle with mine

Heat my body, our hands in each other’s hair entwined

Let us drink the wine that spills from our cups

Onto the tables of flesh, let us sup

Tickle my fancy with the brush of your lips

Fancy my giggle along that curve in your hip

Turn your face sideways look over your shoulder

Give me that look that’s for only me; the one that smolders

Remind me again and again how religious we are

As we cry out to the God’s, sing out to the stars.

The Witnesses

To honor Good Friday, I was asked to write a poem. I do not proclaim a faith, just a belief in love and the goodness of the human beings that walk this plane. The three part poem below is written from three perspectives witnessing the crucifixion. When it is read, it is from three different voices they come. I hope it speaks to your spirit if you’re so inclined.

The Witnesses

Verse One: The Observer

I’m not a Christian, but Lord, if I was,

I’d not stand by and watch them offer up applause

For that man they called a criminal for preaching about love

For the one some call Messiah, while others cry Peaceful dove.

I stand here in the crowd as they cheer this brother’s pain

My heart is filled with sorrow, as his beaten body strains

The laughter that I hear from the festive vicious hearts

Breaks something inside of me, tears my faith apart

I want to scream above the crowd, “HEAR!”

In a voice shrill and loud, “ME!”

With my head no longer bowed, “LORD!”

Releasing my own funeral shroud, “I AM NEAR!”

But I am weak, just human. I am nothing compared to them.

But maybe, my kindred spirits, that’s what moves me to condemn

For I love my God with all my heart, and in God’s house I walk

I serve in supplication, I don’t just talk the talk.

I am not a Christian, but Lord, if I ever loved,

I’d heed the wisdom of the dying man, and thank my God above.

Verse Two: The Participant

How dare that man pass his judgement down on me!

Who does he think he is, telling ME how to believe?!

I’ve learned and taught the toe-RAH

I’ve worshipped at the sacred altar

I’ve cantered every prayer

I can recite them without flaw or falter.

Then this mortal man comes along and claims to be

Far more holy than even me?

The Son of God? Oh, reeeeaaaaaaallly!?

I’ve fixed that preachy “Love Thy Neighbor” fellow

I paid my thirty silver to hear him scream in falsetto.

Sometimes the laws I enforce prevent me from doing what’s right

I pass the coins to Roman hands, let them bloody their own hands tonight

This should make my people think twice before leaving our faith

To follow a crazy instigator, that rejects my loving God’s face.

Verse Three: The Intimate

I am hidden in the darkness, afraid to show my face

“Oh Lord, why’d they tell us that Yeshua fell from grace?

You showed me my friend Judas with thirty silver in his fist

Forsake my dear beloved with cold betrayal’s kiss

You let my holy brother be taken

from the garden where we prayed.

You allowed him to be arrested

when you could have let him stay.”

I am hidden in the darkness, afraid they’ll point at me and say

That I was clearly one of his. That they’ll kill me the same way.

“Oh Lord, why have they called for my redeemer to be killed?

When ne’er a drop of anguish from his gentle lips have spilled?

I do not feel you near, Oh God, I’ve lost your loving light

When they took my sweet friend, Yeshua, away in darkest night.

If I weren’t hidden in the darkness, barely safe from Roman harm

I’d scream out my torment, beating my chest to sound alarm.

“Hosanna! Hosanna! I sing to your precious name

Hosanna! Hosanna! My finger points my brother’s shame.

My faith is ever yours, even when I don’t understand.

I mean, you took us through the desert, 40 years we wandered sand

And yet, my Father, I hide here, within this darkened room

I wonder, holy patriarch if his death will also be my doom.”

I am hidden in the darkness, despair my wretched dominion

Oh God! My Loving God! Remove my deserter’s vision.”

NaPoWriMo: The Birth of Your Art

NaPoWriMo

NaPoWriMo

Lady Cathy Gritter took me into her church

near her garden door that led only outward.

It had nine panes of stained glass

that guarded the treasures within the hall.

On the pristine white shelves

is where she stored centuries of art,

a sacramental archive of holiness.

I’d enter her church through the side door

withering looks from her husband William

glared resentment at my childish intrusion

I scooted sinfully through to gaze with adoration

at the hallowed scriptures

blessed gospels of

van Gogh, Picasso, de Vinci, Kahlo

offering sermons of:

Sunflowers, Girl Before a Mirror, Mona Lisa, and Weeping Coconuts.

I was allowed to peer into the eyes of holy angels

upon my confessional return of each holy grail.

NaPoWriMo

NaPoWriMo

Haints

It was the moment she burst with the joy of life

Like an orchid blushing rich skinned into petals.

That laugh of hers echoed the room

As if a church organ had piped in Metallica,

Full of power and reverence.

If the delight in her eyes diminished,

So would the clouds bash the sun into submission,

Obscuring the light at her request, but the delight remained. ‘

I remained.

She kept living.

A Walk Through Her

Soul Reflections

Soul Reflections

I walked through her soul picking stray bits and pieces,

Stringing the pearls, stitching them together

With dreams made of pink stitched green ribbon

I made it into a bouquet as a tribute to her beauty

Caught at the peak of fertile perfection

Lightly scented with the essence of her glory

Her gift to the living, loving world.

These Are My People: Sarah Carrie Hunter

My friend Sarah Johnson My friend Sarah Hunter

She was born with a baby on her hip
A jaunt in her step that moved her like a cradle
A smooth line smile that granted mother’s milk
While soothing ruffled feathers of frustrated ilk
She slithers with grace leaving trails of wildflowers
Carefully disguised as children, her daughters
She was born with a baby on her hip
As if the earth were not solid but a slow rolling ship
A reckless follower of her hearts intensity
Gives birth to her gift from her sacred humanity.

The Green Lady Speaks

I am awakened. I am reborn. I will conquer where hearts are torn.

I am awakened.
I am reborn.
I will conquer
where hearts are torn.

Here are some easy ways to find your happy : Gratitude, look for the ever present blessings, surround yourself with love and solidly good humans, trust your intuition, follow your bliss, engage in life instead of reading/dreaming/hoping for something to happen, make the life you want instead of the life other people seem to think you should have or lead. NEVER do anything that speaks against your spirit.