Category Archives: poetry

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The Journey by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice – –
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried,
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do – –
determined to save
the only life you could save.

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The Guest House by Rumi

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

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Blue Mountains

When family gathers we disappear.
Your little hand guides me away.

Favorite stories, mixed with
salad bites and crunchy sandwiches,
are shared at the table we
leave behind.

Bug eyed fish gulp surface treats
bubbling past us on our way to
climb blue mountains.

Today the story of you and I
is written on the highest peak,
and carved amongst jewels in
a golden crown drawn in the sand.

Rumbling tummy and thirsty lips
dive us back to our tribe.
Chewing and chatting relatives
toss us a drink and a few
morsels.

Hand in hand,
we walk away again, to explore
enchanted lands on the other
side of the blue mountains.

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Manners

devonian play park
(internet photo)

Little monkey limbs
grasp and hold and climb.
Blue plastic mountains
rise over colorful, recycled
rubber land.

Yellow, green and orange footsteps
sink and rise, spongy elastic
imprints rebound.

Mommas wear flowered tops.
Some have brought books
to the indoor babysitter.
Hands hold Styrofoam cups,
sip drinks from sidelines.

Droopy eyed adults dart in and out
of the romp fest.
Tsks and clucks can be heard
as playtime manners
are taught.

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Perfect Moment

perfectmoment

(imagechef.com)

I am waiting for the perfect moment
to make my move and call.
I am waiting for my calendar to clear
to be able to sit for awhile.

I am waiting until I know
that we won’t be interrupted,
I don’t want my message to be
misinterpreted or corrupted.

As I wait for the perfect moment
I know the years are passing
but my courage is also growing,
expanding and amassing.

And now here I lie
on my deathbed ready to expire…
I never found the perfect moment
to which I had aspired.

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Camelot

I am blindfolded on a plank.
My hands crisscrossed. A sword in each.
The sky drizzles sorrow around me.

I need to take my blindfold off.
I must break free from this bondage.
A knight in full armour arrives.
Together we escape.

We drink from the cup of life.
My life is blessed. As I move down
the path of life, I walk alongside
my knight. We protect each other.

A chariot rolls by. We nod and smile.
A white rose is tossed from the driver
and lands at my feet.

As I bend to pick up the flower
a wizard appears holding a jewelled
chalice in his hands. Stars burst
from the cup. Dragons flame forth.
Crows and fairies fly forward, upward
to the clouds. I stand in awe and
bow to the truth.

A rider on a beautiful white horse
approaches with an offering. My knight
allows him to pass and I accept the
offering. Streams of water flow from
an emerald cup.

My bonds have been broken. I am
protected by all who have come before
me, and all who are to follow.