Motherhood is the only Truth of Life

Hae.mi, every verse is a child of love
As I watch you with your child
I think upon the qualities of your womanhood
Your ancestry and your design upon time

The heart as a gulf, and a bridge and a blessing
I who have experienced so little true joy
Can admire the cherishing of a maternal love
That exceeds in brightness and in sport

The spring’s treasured moments of a young mother
I watch you with your child, as I would the stars
Or holding the Earth in my mind as I would
Imagine life caring for all the galaxies

Hae.mi, so when you think of me, remember
I die at dawn and daybreak, every day
To witness your majesty as a woman and a mother
With no decisions and no receiving, I’ll carry on

So as to die with the morning and the evening
We might support the future in a familiar face
Like your son or the billions of lights
That swim in the hawk-like night

And the swan-like soul of all living things
Those eyes, a little bit like our own,
Those hearts, that feel and hope and love
Like we do, Hae.mi, that is your gift

That I can love you like a father who watches his daughter
Taking care of the world while she travels it
In the years and greetings and journeys
Given to her, and what will live on in her sons

In his daughter, who will one day become a mother…

 

Photo Courtesy.

When Nature With Rubies & Stars Pelteth Me

When the night is almost done
And we have walked a life of years
Dark and light, with uniforms of snow
Steps through rain and dimples ready

To face the morning’s mist
When body is in her frightened hour
Do not be afraid, soul
Spirit that shines in smiling procession

For change bears her faithful witness
There is no fight in the Great Spirit
She’s just there, in peace and surrender
A vacancy of meditation’s ambush

On heights of piercing wild
Where stars are free above the winds
When the day has come
To look inside your self

And silence like an ocean rolls
I will hear the voice of Time
And she will fling her speech in prayer
And all beauty will unscrutinize

For nature is the bright majority
She guides the continual crowning
Of my steps, and takes me by the hand
A feminine onset of eternity
In my blood, and health in my shared oxygen.

Aphorisms to the Anonymous #PoetryMonth #proverb #aphorism

Aphorisms to the Anonymous

If you can get answers
From asking the wrong questions
Then it proves you have lived
If you have fallen in love
Then you know

Short cuts make long delays
The journey is when
Everyone helps to hold up the sky
The one person
Does not become tired

So is it with art
We all give a piece of ourselves
To the color book of humanity
I’m going to write a poem
Forging a tongue on truth’s anvil

Because I never found
A good teacher, so
I read a lot of books
I having a generous eye
Was blessed with the appreciation

I gave the bread of my soul
To the poor and became a beggar
For more spirit than I could
Ever consume or unite with
I’ll sleep for myself
But I will dream for others.

Or Not to be

Or Not to be

I died for beauty and for grief
As if they were scarce
As if I was in need
When one died it did not matter
Descendent divinity could adapt

For truth and beauty
Belong to the future’s make
In kin I never knew I had
In aliens so similar, it was
Hard to comprehend

I died for beauty and for grief
I lived perhaps a wasted
Satisfied temporary, like an abyss
And my name was not beautiful
But at least we were together

In adjoining rooms, fed
Language, light and breath
A while, I died but it was not bitter
It was the natural way to be
Living until we die
Now that was a beautiful thing.

Last Stop

There is a last stop in all of us
A place our soul consents to rest
Few were the moonlit nights
That I’ve truly cared for after all

In the alphabet of stars
Time carried me until I was
Completely different
And with a fatigue of thought

I settled on dying a white death
After people were forgotten
There were still my dreams
Dreams I had held on to in spite

Of difficulties, tempests, dishonour
But memory is just a day
When somebody we cared for

Is replaced by somebody else or
The fleeting thing of hours
The turbulent street where everything blurs.

Fragment of a Corporeal Once Thing

my brain is wild

my breath comes quickly

I am dissolved in

such consuming ecstasies

none forgoes themselves

and none can forget

their spirit’s signature

the light within

which illuminates the possibilities

my heart is savage

my feelings attain repose

I am dissolved in

such consuming peace

meditation without limit

the universe within

all that I am is

a leaping fragment of existence

a blur in the resolving dark

my brain is golden

my touch is the forgotten legend

I disappear in the myth of being.

The Soul Achieves Herself without effort

Gradual is our relationship
with the grace behind nature
another spectral October Fall
how the wizard sun confines

and the flamingo sunsets wave goodbye
the fires ebb, the flowers cease
their sport, the stars wink
at snowflakes on their fall

to carpet a sparkling web
sapphire moments drift by
at dusk in the cities
there is a soft glimmer

in the streets, it is cold outside
as we bow one by one into
our brief solitude, with visions
to guide us for the labours of tomorrow

paralyzed by the savings of gold
or the lack of savings in our bank accounts
the wisdom of life is a brief release
the details we once scrutinized

no longer seem so important after all
to live a good life, means different things
at separate points in our story
and nothing in the end intoxicates

like the God neurochemical
call it what you will, the spirit
lives on after all these subplots
the search for a diviner brand

of metaphysics, philosophy, utopia
until there are no visitors to our soul
but a diviner truth, a more united feeling
gradual is our relationship
with what’s beyond the scope of years.

Photo Courtesy:

1. http://www.deviantart.com/art/Be-on-the-road-with-warmly-thoughts-482560577
2. http://www.deviantart.com/art/Deer-Collaboration-483167431

The Spiritual Body of a Poem

To write poetry is
To create philosophical memory
To adjust the commentaries

Of all souls, to just one voice
To strip the inequalities
Of existence, of their mass
To write poetry is
To erase the written

Transforming what we have read
Making alphabets contemporary
Fluid, mystical

To write poetry is not just art
It’s neurological reprogramming
A quantum gesture to
The nature of beauty
And Meaning itself

To write poetry is
To return to an absence of meaning
The meddlesome mind forgets

The natural order of nature
To reduce layers of narrative
And return to a total peace
And a grand vision of the universe
As a talking thing, exchanging energy

In a physics of existence
To write poetry is to love the unwritten
Endings that all concur

To identify with the sudden
Rupture of beginnings
From which all thought originates
To write poetry is thus
The silence in between the words

And a solace beyond thought
To free oneself form the memory
That is an impression or a scar

On the mind, blankness is an ideal state
To observe time and space without attachment
To love existence independently
Of the personal conditions of one’s life
On the letters of your poems

I observe a black walking cat
A woman that must question her heart
To find the answers, without
Speaking we are a language
All we feel and do is a kind of vocabulary.

AGNES CECILE
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At The Hinge of All My Days

If I shouldn’t be alive –
Let others do, what I could not
Let them not save me
Any memorial crumbs

Our stories are all retold
Again and again, like being fast
Asleep and dreaming life
Our lives, they come and go

So quickly, if I should die tomorrow
Perhaps I will have been asked
To go abroad, to some further star –
And there I shall take compact Sunshine

With me, my first well Day in ages
If I shouldn’t be alive –
Let poets rise from every circumstance
Uncertain of themselves, so –

We all cheat ourselves, dropping
Threads of our youthful dreams
We conform to routine lives
If I shouldn’t be alive –

Maybe it is for the best?
To fade into tomorrow with
Rainbows held, like brief recompense.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Winter-Spices-412283366

Stop Loving Never

I feel the autumn air
bringing an autumn slack
my bones beneath the black
colors of suffocated dares

the brother who is never seen
the parents who leave their bodies
the blowing rain of enormous quickening
change, I knew she would not struggle

only time can sleep like this
running crazily here on these fields
I feel the autumn air
giddy with the eagerness of hope

in a flutter it is gone
like everything I once desired
space is at the center of my room
time haunts my mind’s ornaments

my palms don’t know what to touch anymore
the world, or some dreamy ‘forever-after’
will I feed on days only to die?
and lick the sunshine reluctant to let
my heart stop? stop loving never.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/La-Piscine-Et-Plouf-395085816

Who Occupies this Hope?

Who occupies this House?
A stranger I to myself must judge –
With unknown quantity of love
For a selfish world, I live in vain?

Who occupies this Stage?
Since no one knows his Circumference –
I would write upon the door
Half my life I owe to circumstance

Who occupies this World?
But bio-programs of newly raised Afternoons
Inhabitants in a half-life pre-defined
But where do the Golden birds assemble?

Who occupies this breeding field?
Must I breed then too, to feel alive –
‘Twas settled long ago I suppose
In some unknown territory of Ghosts & DNA

Until I as a pioneer learned to forget myself
And follow footprints that were made
I found peace, when I learned not to judge.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Blue-Dream-392679827