Drought–dVerse Meeting the Bar

“Living (now) is like walking through a great weeping. It is like an ongoing funeral, a huge shedding of the life of the world…When the heart knows sorrow and never weeps, the sorrow gets locked like a storm inside the heart. When the sorrow can’t pour out, it turns…to stone.”
Michael Meade

Photo: sfgate.com These hills are usually brilliant green this time of the year.

Photo: sfgate.com
These hills are usually brilliant green this time of the year.

Drought

Last night Earth and I sat down beneath a moonless sky. The stars danced to music we could not hear. She sighed and I waited, listened for her to speak, but she held silence cradled to her heart.

“Do you know,Gaia,” I began, hoping to draw her out, hoping to touch the pain palpable on her dry, cracked body. “Do you know,” I said again, “the Mayan word for tumor means solid stone?”

She sighed again.

“Last week,” I continued, “I drove through one of your valleys. On either side of me brown, barren hills marked my passage. ‘I thirst,’ I heard them whisper. They brought to mind parched lips of the dying waiting for a kiss of water, fearing a lick of flame. Back then I gave comfort. I gave water. I gave hope. Today I have nothing to offer.”

I felt a tremor, heard another sigh. I waited for a tear, but there was none.

We sat together in deepest silence yet a while longer. In the distance I heard the howl of a coyote, the call of crickets. Together Earth and  I sat in quiet thought, waiting, hoping.

At last Earth turned and faced me. “When you, my children weep,” she said, “I will join them.”

While parts of the world are experiencing significant storms, in the West we are faced with a serious drought. I am near the San Andreas fault at right now and we experience a good number of temblors, most of them we don’t even feel. Just moments ago, as I wrote this, as if to respond, we felt a small earthquake that rattled the windows and shutters…Earth shuddered perhaps!

Written for and linked to Sam’s prompt over at dVerse Meeting the Bar where he challenges us to write Narrative Poetry. Drop by and check it out. The doors open at 3:00 PM EST.

Potters

The day wind felled a weary oak,
we donned work aprons, boots,
took pails and spades in hand
and ventured out into the brumey cold
to scoop red clay, harvesting Earth.

That night we sat around a fire.
Flickering flames of warmth dispelled
the cold that seeped through dense
gray stone—walls caching sacred
secrets of a century and more.

We worked the clay that night, extracting
grit and stones, Gaia’s grainy
cells that would, ignored, destroy
our own creative efforts. Each night
thereafter, tediously, we toiled for perfection.

And when the day arrived to mold
and fashion terra-cotta worlds,
figures formed of toil and imagination,
clods of mud clung to our hands
that we discarded as extraneous.

Yet now and then we’d find a pebble.
Another proof that life eludes
the quest for flawless execution.

In the early 70’s I lived in a monastic setting at the Motherhouse of Les Petites Soeurs des Pauvres in St. Pern, Brittany, France. The above story is true. I am submitting this poem to Gay Cannon’s prompt at dVerse Poet’s Pub, as a metaphorical twist on life. I’m also linking it to my own prompt for this week’s Write2Day. The muse actually crawled out from under the covers this morning!

Motherhouse of the Little Sisters of the Poor

Connearthection–NaPoWriMo Day 4

Quercus pyrenaica seedling 20090813

Image via Wikipedia

Written for NaPoWriMo, Day 4: http://www.napowrimo.net/

Connearthection

care for our Mother
for to her we shall return
when our spirit’s freed

she tends to our needs
but often we ignore her
fragile caregiver

walk in mindfulness
listen to her whisperings
embrace her beauty

Here’s the prompt the NaPoWriMo gave, but my word inspired a bit of haiku to follow:

Because April is National Poetry Month, there are a lot of poetry-related things going on besides NaPoWriMo. One I thought people might be interested in is InterNaPwoWriMo, or International Pwoemrd Writing Month, a project sponsored by visual poet Geof Huth. What’s a pwoermd, you ask? It’s a one-word poem! Sometimes they are made by shoving two words together to form an interesting new word, but there are a lot of ways of going about it.

Today, if you’re looking for a challenge, why not try your hand at a pwoemrd? They might look easy, but it’s actually pretty hard to come up with an interesting one – something that works visually and also makes some kind of sense.

Live Today–A Sestina

Fireworks Finale

Image via Wikipedia

Submitted to Riika Infinity’s 2011 Wish List Challenge: http://riikainfinityy.com/2010/12/28/wishylissy-for-2011/ in which we were challenged to think about what we want to have, do and wish for this upcoming new year.
 

I chose to do a sestina, choosing as the end words those that represent my deepest wishes:

Truth–to live without illusion, to understand and speak my truth;
Words–to express these truth’s in my writing and speech;
Presence–to be aware of the Divine in creation;
Bliss–to live in joy;
Now–to live in the present moment;
Earth–to enjoy the gifts of creation
 

Live Today
A Sestina

I ask for strength that I may live in truth,
that clarity may seal my every word.
My life unfolds within the silent Presence
of the Divine—it’s here that I find bliss.
Awake, I feast in the eternal Now
yet revel in the offerings of earth.

I taste and touch and breathe the joys of earth,
partake of what I see of beauty’s truth:
the flight of birds, the frosty tendrils now
that etch the glass and hold my every word
displaying beauty on the face of bliss.
I bow before the Godhead’s sacred Presence,

surrender to the very hope of present
pledges offered to the waiting earth,
dance with abandon to the sounds of bliss—
chords that echo in harmonic truth.
Succumbing to the utterance of Your Word
that in my own, another may find Now.

And can it be that only in the Now
I may be welcomed in the blessed Presence,
attend in faith the murmur of the Word?
My sure companion of this walk on earth
will cloth me in a garment spun of truth
that I may wear the wedding garb of bliss.

Because it is God’s will we drink of bliss,
I choose to stride along the path of Now,
relish the textures, colors true—
the vivid palettes painted by the presence
of rainbow’s arc bending towards the earth,
soaking rain that nourishes the word.

You strip away illusions with your words,
comfort my exposure to the truth.
Into deep sleep I fall, await Your presence,
awaken to the touch of brilliant bliss.
At last, You come, I rise unto the Now
and bending, touch my lips upon the earth.

You speak Your truth within a whispered word.
Today Your presence seizes me in bliss
enjoying in the Now my moment on this earth.

 

Sunday 160–“Joy”

Photo: David Slotto

A hummingbird descends,
drinks honey.
Blankets of feathers
stagger across red
silken breast.
Ladles of nectar
slip down
his tawny throat,
sweeten the
pain of
Mother Earth.

Submitted to Monkey Man’s Sunday 160 in which you have 160 characters including spaces to write a poem or flash fiction. http://petzoldspracticalprose.blogspot.com/ 

This is so out-of-season here (snow outside) but it doesn’t hurt to remember!

One Shot Wednesday–“Should You Choose to Die Today”

Should You Choose to Die Today

will the Earth withhold her
splendor for a moment
until she gasps for air,
the air that would be yours?

Most trees have lost their leaves
and quail forage in
dead brush.
I haven’t heard the coyote howl.

On my walk by the River
I saw a pair of doves.
A swallow rests, alone
on a branch of our ornamental pear
and feasts.

Submitted to

One Shot Wednesday

http://oneshotpoetry.blogspot.com/

Take the time to browse some amazing emerging and established poets.