Dreams of the Pumpkin King

Winds of Autumn softly whisper

Their poetry is ethereal, glistening with frost

I shiver in the grass

 

Solace holds reprieve,

Basking in the crisp stanzas of twilight

Breathing frigid air with a grateful smile

 

October has come to play

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Let The River Take Me

To this river held in the arms of red earth
Whispering to my dreams

I thank you

When mountains crumbled and forests shook with the violence of Autumn
This river hummed those songs of bone
Of blood in my veins and my heart pumping with life

Always in the background the reverberation of flood
That drumbeat memory of ancestors and hunt
Pounding in my ears the resonant song
Of water…. Of knowing

Making My Own Gravity

Letting go, empty air and wind rushing past my ears

No redundant metaphors of wings to uplift me

This moment is clarity, honed by the rough edges of solitude

I awaken, even as I gently persuade myself to sleep

Stars burn hotter than my poetry

Their eyes peer at me from behind the veil of of clouds

I nod to them with knowing

I too once combusted, was set aflame with the Fire of existence

I know the glory, and the anguish of passion

Yet here in my seat, the conclusion of that inferno

This mortal body carrying the dust of my genesis

I realize that I am what the stars themselves become

When they die so gloriously and spread their elemental seeds

To build this vessel who looks up at them with wonder

Feeling small… And powerful

No More Sad Songs

A breath…
The first breath, in a truly virgin body
Painful and harsh
As an infant, who, until this moment
Took only viscous fluid into their lungs

To be…
To inhale oxygen given by the trees
Reciprocating my carbon dioxide
And in this way feeling content
In my placement of Things

This chatter…
Incessantly prodding, pounding
Seeking to drown my inner dialog
With the need for whiter whites-
Be damned

The soil is strong
Verdant with decay
Feeding epiphany
Where those sleeping seeds
Sing songs I have forgotten…

Though I’m learning to remember

#me too

My response to the movement happening. I’m not on twitter or Facebook or any other media outlet other than this blog so… this is what I have to offer

Not a sob story but a reminder that woman have been fighting this quietly for a long while, and Ani just… says things honestly

So here

Backyard Reflections

IMG_0679Back yard reflections

Of a squirrel’s scolding

Or the painted crown moldings

My hands and knees black with earth

 

Wages paid in callouses

Long stretches of back road

Poetry, my heavy load

Each step a drum- beat rhythm

 

Alone, I was a mountain

Beaten by the wind

Growing thicker skin

Storm dancing, in solitude

 

Those are the moments that make you

With heart wide open, wanting

At all the world’s beauty flaunting

Leaping from your own peaks, to soar

 

A good place to learn your power

When silence begs introspection

Noting the fractal, the inflection

Teaching your ears to see and your eyes to paint

 

Yet I shall never return

To valleys of red cedar and pine

That passive state of mind

I would rather be a Tiger, than a Rose

 

 

 

*this was my view on the back porch today, and the reflections of the Lilly and the sky shimmering slightly with the wind made me… reflective.

I wrote this about my childhood in the Cascade Mountains of Washington

To Jim Roberts With All my Love

So cold in the shadow of woe and loss

Struggling to pay the daily cost

How many took with selfish greed?

Every green dollar and it’s hopeful seed?

Not you my friend, whom others spurned

Your company so firey, it burns

Of what you uttered, too scalding for most

The sinuous dance, the wild boast

But I knew you then, and loved you well

Thourouly, beneath your spell

And you should know what you meant to me

How friendship then was rarely free

So what you gave in your simple way

Means more that trite words will ever convey

Thank you for being so fiercely youself

Despite all those who have you Hell

And thank you for being there so late at night

When storms were raging, as I went seeking flight

For drying my shoes, my tears, and my babbling streams

For hanging your hat on the myriad dreams

What a person you are… what a spirit, what a man

What a friend I am so lucky, to hold in hand