Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Explanation of Pictures
I tried to match the pictures with the poetry and failed. It is beyond my technical ability. You can look at the pictures and choose which ones you would place with any given poem. Some of you have been to our house and will recognize it. I put in the gardens after I retired. As long as I can move, I will garden, love wildlife, and enjoy travel. Since this is a Blog and not a website, I wont be adding new poetry. That would be too difficult. Instead, I will start another Blog. My children say I am technologically challenged. Too true At least, I can now use a digital camera.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Mindsongs by Patricia Chang
I have been writing poetry for many years. It is interesting to look back and see how the emphasis has changed. As we grow older, it is hoped that we are working toward self-actualization, i. e. the acceptance of our life as it has been; and a sense of inner peace. Some of us achieve that, some of us do not. It is a part of the cycle of existence. When we are reborn, the cycle begins anew. I decided I wanted to print my poetry on this blog as a means of looking at my past, my present, and my future. It is both calming and hopeful. If you wish to take this journey with me, I welcome your companionship. We all have songs to sing; and I invite you to share yours with me. There have been years where the music was silent for me. Yet, it has never gone away. Instead, like wildflowers sleeping beneath the snow-covered leaves of the forest, it waits to burst forth anew. It cannot be forced. It simply is, and blossoms when it is time. I will post the URL on Facebook. I extend an invitation to all of my friends to visit here, should they wish to do so. As the Navajo say: May you walk in beauty. And, may we find our individual paths to peace. Patricia Davis Chang
How Long Is Forever
This is one of my poems from high school, my Senior year, 1963.
How Long Is Forever?
How long is forever?
Infinity means forever.
A vast, endless plain of time
Spreading out over centuries,
Spreading out over eons.
Two people say, "I'll love you forever."
To them forever may be an hour, a day, a lifetime.
It takes forever for the hands of a clock
To measure off the seconds
When someone wants time to pass swiftly.
Slowly the hands move,
Waiting is agony-creeping agony.
Forever lasts five minutes.
How long is forever?
How Long Is Forever?
How long is forever?
Infinity means forever.
A vast, endless plain of time
Spreading out over centuries,
Spreading out over eons.
Two people say, "I'll love you forever."
To them forever may be an hour, a day, a lifetime.
It takes forever for the hands of a clock
To measure off the seconds
When someone wants time to pass swiftly.
Slowly the hands move,
Waiting is agony-creeping agony.
Forever lasts five minutes.
How long is forever?
From Dandelions Among the Roses
White Noise
Light flame dancing in the night,
Reflected from the window panes,
Illusions mirrored elusively
In bright mirages of the mind.
Like a glow above the shelf
Of the changing horizon,
Marking city incandescence,
Where the clink of laughing voices
Fills the dim and crowded rooms.
Empty life, revolving, muffled,
Touching is forbidden here.
Surface, glitter conversation,
Rebounds from the shimmering scene.
And if wanting, needing, caring
Steals into the spaces, hidden,
Dispersion soon destroys the feeling,
diluting it in smoke-filled air.
1975
Tiger Balm
I've never liked endings, farewells or goodbyes.
Though I know the winter follows autumn,
I long for summer green to be forever---
Scent of grass and honeysuckle,
Dandelions and yellow roses.
Circles are much better than straight lines.
I'll even settle for an ellipse or two.
Unbroken roundness like soft eyes.
Or, better yet, to feel a circle warm and strong
Of hands held tight
To be a part of infinite belonging.......
I've heard there are no beginnings to be had,
Unless you take an ending in the bargain.
Sold in pairs, I guess.
Still, I never liked goodbyes,
Standing there watching distance
Swallow up the warmth of closeness,
Leaving empty space behind in dusky, silent corners.
1979
..
Tonio Kroger and I are Friends
What happens when you don't quite fit?
Whatever do you make of it? Having pushed, shoved and pried,
Your square peg once again denied
A place inside
The round and tidy human mold,
Safety in the common fold.
How often have you sat alone
Gazing at a telephone
That never rings with invitations
For light and laughing conversations.....
Does there come a time at last
When you accept the die that's cast,
To take your solitary stroll,
Quiet peace within your soul?
Knowing that you've tried to share.
Knowing that you've always cared.
Perhaps that makes some sense of it,
Even if you didn't fit.
1981
Corner
She draws herself
Inward
Looking
Downward.
Keeping in or keeping out,
Both are the same,
They mean
Alone.
1981
Put 'er There Pal
The cat and the rat
On a hilltop sat,
Together surveying the scene.
Said the rat to the cat:
"Isnt't it lovely that
I always know just what you mean."
The cat purred on with a fiendish gleam
In the corners of her eyes.
Said the cat to the rat
Most purposefully that:
"Our relationship you can surmise,
is one of mutual admiration,
so I have every expectation
that you and I will utilize
our brilliant attributes to gain
all we hope soon to attain."
The cat and the rat
On a hilltop sat,
When a storm began to brew.
The cat looked hungrily at the rat,
And pounced without much ado.
To herself she smiled and switched her tail:
"I must go before it rains-
ah, that stupid rat hadn't a clue,
that I always look after my sweet self first.
Alas, rat, I'll get along without you!"
1984
Morning Silk
(With Best regards to Carl Sandburg)
White fog drifts above the fields,
Nestling in patches of Queen Anne's Lace.
White and pure the silken dawn
Lights a pale and silent world
Of brush and grasses half-obscured
In sleepy blankets made of mist.
Against the dark streak of the road
A white cat springs from sumac depths,
Then leaps with swift and startling grace
Across the gently curving lane,
Returning to become as one
In the softly waiting arms
Of white, engulfing fog.
1984
Light flame dancing in the night,
Reflected from the window panes,
Illusions mirrored elusively
In bright mirages of the mind.
Like a glow above the shelf
Of the changing horizon,
Marking city incandescence,
Where the clink of laughing voices
Fills the dim and crowded rooms.
Empty life, revolving, muffled,
Touching is forbidden here.
Surface, glitter conversation,
Rebounds from the shimmering scene.
And if wanting, needing, caring
Steals into the spaces, hidden,
Dispersion soon destroys the feeling,
diluting it in smoke-filled air.
1975
Tiger Balm
I've never liked endings, farewells or goodbyes.
Though I know the winter follows autumn,
I long for summer green to be forever---
Scent of grass and honeysuckle,
Dandelions and yellow roses.
Circles are much better than straight lines.
I'll even settle for an ellipse or two.
Unbroken roundness like soft eyes.
Or, better yet, to feel a circle warm and strong
Of hands held tight
To be a part of infinite belonging.......
I've heard there are no beginnings to be had,
Unless you take an ending in the bargain.
Sold in pairs, I guess.
Still, I never liked goodbyes,
Standing there watching distance
Swallow up the warmth of closeness,
Leaving empty space behind in dusky, silent corners.
1979
..
Tonio Kroger and I are Friends
What happens when you don't quite fit?
Whatever do you make of it? Having pushed, shoved and pried,
Your square peg once again denied
A place inside
The round and tidy human mold,
Safety in the common fold.
How often have you sat alone
Gazing at a telephone
That never rings with invitations
For light and laughing conversations.....
Does there come a time at last
When you accept the die that's cast,
To take your solitary stroll,
Quiet peace within your soul?
Knowing that you've tried to share.
Knowing that you've always cared.
Perhaps that makes some sense of it,
Even if you didn't fit.
1981
Corner
She draws herself
Inward
Looking
Downward.
Keeping in or keeping out,
Both are the same,
They mean
Alone.
1981
Put 'er There Pal
The cat and the rat
On a hilltop sat,
Together surveying the scene.
Said the rat to the cat:
"Isnt't it lovely that
I always know just what you mean."
The cat purred on with a fiendish gleam
In the corners of her eyes.
Said the cat to the rat
Most purposefully that:
"Our relationship you can surmise,
is one of mutual admiration,
so I have every expectation
that you and I will utilize
our brilliant attributes to gain
all we hope soon to attain."
The cat and the rat
On a hilltop sat,
When a storm began to brew.
The cat looked hungrily at the rat,
And pounced without much ado.
To herself she smiled and switched her tail:
"I must go before it rains-
ah, that stupid rat hadn't a clue,
that I always look after my sweet self first.
Alas, rat, I'll get along without you!"
1984
Morning Silk
(With Best regards to Carl Sandburg)
White fog drifts above the fields,
Nestling in patches of Queen Anne's Lace.
White and pure the silken dawn
Lights a pale and silent world
Of brush and grasses half-obscured
In sleepy blankets made of mist.
Against the dark streak of the road
A white cat springs from sumac depths,
Then leaps with swift and startling grace
Across the gently curving lane,
Returning to become as one
In the softly waiting arms
Of white, engulfing fog.
1984
Mother-of-Pearl
Mother-of-Pearl
Alone is not always lonely.
On sunny days when an impish breeze
Blows soft, sweet kisses against my cheek,
And I can watch the sky
Through canopies of fluttering green.
Why is there then a part of me
That longs to share the glint of light
On rippling water;
To show a kindred spirit kindly scenes
Of grasses swaying in a field;
Or graceful lace of forest ferns
In secret, craggy gullies...
Alone is not always lonely.
Yet there can be this longing-self
That seeks another who will look
Beneath the surface of my outer shell,
Reveling in the iridescent gleam
Of pearly, inner being.
1989
Crystals
There were greencrystal castles
In my childhood dreams,
And dew-drenched forests
Sweet with pine.
I wandered through meadow's of Queen Anne's Lace
To be washed in glistening, golden light.
Why did darker shadows hide the sun?
When did flowered paths turn to jagged stone?
The child was lost.
Yet, on days of fresh, white billowing clouds,
I catch a glimpse of her.
Or when I walk alone at night,
I see her in the moonlit spring.
If only I could bring her back to me...
Then I could sing her hopeful songs
Of windchimes on a summer day,
And dream of crystal castles.
1989
Kite Without A String
When I see the violet, bluesweet, laughing sky,
Dancing
Clouds
And
Branches
Tipped
With
Fuzzy
Buds,
I want to soar with the wind.
Shouting!
Singing!
Holding out my arms to catch the sunlight,
Wash my face deep in its brightness.
I'll laugh with the sky,
There above the blackstained rooftops.
" You'll never catch me!
I
Am
Free
To float on the currents of my joy!"
Rhyming like a giddy child:
"You'll never catch me!
I'm
Off
To
See
What I'll still become,
What I can be."
1989
Someone Like Alice
I told her not to feel again-
To leave that door locked tightly.
Let it go, I said, you know where it will lead.
There's no one there except yourself,
Who can give you what you need.
Still, she touched the doorknob longingly,
It's brass gleamed soft, yet glowing bright.
"Fool!" I cried, "Don't turn it! Don't!
You'll tumble down into the night!"
I watched in helpless sorrow,
As, childlike, she ignored my plea.
I watched as she went through the door,
This someone who is me.
Beware of self-delusions. Watch out for reckless pain!
I saw her hold her arms out, I knew she'd fall again.
Picking up the pieces of her unreality,
That's what I'm always left to do
With this someone who is me.
1991
Peter's Dilemma
How they long to cling to us,
Our illusions dark and bright.
Fantasies of Never Land,
Pixie dust, enchanted light.
Are we pirates strong and bold,
Sailing on a mighty ship?
Or Princess of the Perfect Rose,
Sweet the scent of summer night...
Peter Pan, Wendy Darling,
Tinker Bell and Tiger Lil,
Playing out our fears and joys,
Lost with all the other boys.
Never, never facing up
To the pain of growing up.
Never listening, never still,
Clinging to the fairy tale
That if you do not dare to try,
You never have to fail.
Are we lost because we play at hiding,
Lest we're forced to seek
The steeply winding, rugged path
Where the core of who we are,
Waits for us in naked truth
On a cold and lonely peak.
1991
Walls
When we build walls
Instead of bridges,
Shadows fall upon our soul.
I've tried to find a crack
To let the sunlight
Filter through your self-made wall.
Not to make you weaker,
But to shine in a beam of love and caring
That could give you longed-for warmth.
Can't you use your rugged stones
To build a bridge?
A bridge where both of us can travel.
Sometimes the journey takes us
In the same direction.
There will be days when you may come
And I may go.
Still, we can pass each other
On the way,
And share, I hope, a quiet moment
Upon this bridge that we can build.
Walls keep in.
Walls keep out.
Both are the same,
We're left alone.
They even shut us off, it seems,
From ourselves.
1992
Sunshine Boy
There's some tiny holes down by the creek.
I know what I will do.
I'll take a stick and poke it in
To catch a crawdad, one or two.
Or maybe I'll watch sunfish
And see their scaley silver glisten.
Lying on the creek bank,
I'll be so quiet and just listen
To birds and crickets, rustling leaves,
Bright water rushing over stones.
It's good to be here by myself,
I don't feel one bit alone.
I'll eye a rabbit and he'll eye me,
But he won't have to run,
Because I"m happy lying here
Drifting in the summer sun.
1993
Aunt Rilla's Creek
Julia and I ran down the hill,
Eager to explore the creek.
Shale and shallows,
Darting fish in secret pools,
That catch the sparkle-beams of sunlight
Spilling
Over
Rocky
Ledges.
We bathed in little waterfalls,
Sailed acorn caps on fairy boats
Made of leaves from Sycamores.
Holding hands,
We waded over slippery rocks,
Falling
Down
In watery heaps
Of happy, lively laughter.
Julia and I,
When we were young,
When we were free
And flowing with the water.
1993
Alone is not always lonely.
On sunny days when an impish breeze
Blows soft, sweet kisses against my cheek,
And I can watch the sky
Through canopies of fluttering green.
Why is there then a part of me
That longs to share the glint of light
On rippling water;
To show a kindred spirit kindly scenes
Of grasses swaying in a field;
Or graceful lace of forest ferns
In secret, craggy gullies...
Alone is not always lonely.
Yet there can be this longing-self
That seeks another who will look
Beneath the surface of my outer shell,
Reveling in the iridescent gleam
Of pearly, inner being.
1989
Crystals
There were greencrystal castles
In my childhood dreams,
And dew-drenched forests
Sweet with pine.
I wandered through meadow's of Queen Anne's Lace
To be washed in glistening, golden light.
Why did darker shadows hide the sun?
When did flowered paths turn to jagged stone?
The child was lost.
Yet, on days of fresh, white billowing clouds,
I catch a glimpse of her.
Or when I walk alone at night,
I see her in the moonlit spring.
If only I could bring her back to me...
Then I could sing her hopeful songs
Of windchimes on a summer day,
And dream of crystal castles.
1989
Kite Without A String
When I see the violet, bluesweet, laughing sky,
Dancing
Clouds
And
Branches
Tipped
With
Fuzzy
Buds,
I want to soar with the wind.
Shouting!
Singing!
Holding out my arms to catch the sunlight,
Wash my face deep in its brightness.
I'll laugh with the sky,
There above the blackstained rooftops.
" You'll never catch me!
I
Am
Free
To float on the currents of my joy!"
Rhyming like a giddy child:
"You'll never catch me!
I'm
Off
To
See
What I'll still become,
What I can be."
1989
Someone Like Alice
I told her not to feel again-
To leave that door locked tightly.
Let it go, I said, you know where it will lead.
There's no one there except yourself,
Who can give you what you need.
Still, she touched the doorknob longingly,
It's brass gleamed soft, yet glowing bright.
"Fool!" I cried, "Don't turn it! Don't!
You'll tumble down into the night!"
I watched in helpless sorrow,
As, childlike, she ignored my plea.
I watched as she went through the door,
This someone who is me.
Beware of self-delusions. Watch out for reckless pain!
I saw her hold her arms out, I knew she'd fall again.
Picking up the pieces of her unreality,
That's what I'm always left to do
With this someone who is me.
1991
Peter's Dilemma
How they long to cling to us,
Our illusions dark and bright.
Fantasies of Never Land,
Pixie dust, enchanted light.
Are we pirates strong and bold,
Sailing on a mighty ship?
Or Princess of the Perfect Rose,
Sweet the scent of summer night...
Peter Pan, Wendy Darling,
Tinker Bell and Tiger Lil,
Playing out our fears and joys,
Lost with all the other boys.
Never, never facing up
To the pain of growing up.
Never listening, never still,
Clinging to the fairy tale
That if you do not dare to try,
You never have to fail.
Are we lost because we play at hiding,
Lest we're forced to seek
The steeply winding, rugged path
Where the core of who we are,
Waits for us in naked truth
On a cold and lonely peak.
1991
Walls
When we build walls
Instead of bridges,
Shadows fall upon our soul.
I've tried to find a crack
To let the sunlight
Filter through your self-made wall.
Not to make you weaker,
But to shine in a beam of love and caring
That could give you longed-for warmth.
Can't you use your rugged stones
To build a bridge?
A bridge where both of us can travel.
Sometimes the journey takes us
In the same direction.
There will be days when you may come
And I may go.
Still, we can pass each other
On the way,
And share, I hope, a quiet moment
Upon this bridge that we can build.
Walls keep in.
Walls keep out.
Both are the same,
We're left alone.
They even shut us off, it seems,
From ourselves.
1992
Sunshine Boy
There's some tiny holes down by the creek.
I know what I will do.
I'll take a stick and poke it in
To catch a crawdad, one or two.
Or maybe I'll watch sunfish
And see their scaley silver glisten.
Lying on the creek bank,
I'll be so quiet and just listen
To birds and crickets, rustling leaves,
Bright water rushing over stones.
It's good to be here by myself,
I don't feel one bit alone.
I'll eye a rabbit and he'll eye me,
But he won't have to run,
Because I"m happy lying here
Drifting in the summer sun.
1993
Aunt Rilla's Creek
Julia and I ran down the hill,
Eager to explore the creek.
Shale and shallows,
Darting fish in secret pools,
That catch the sparkle-beams of sunlight
Spilling
Over
Rocky
Ledges.
We bathed in little waterfalls,
Sailed acorn caps on fairy boats
Made of leaves from Sycamores.
Holding hands,
We waded over slippery rocks,
Falling
Down
In watery heaps
Of happy, lively laughter.
Julia and I,
When we were young,
When we were free
And flowing with the water.
1993
Separate Peace
Calm
I found a separate, loving peace,
Underneath the summer trees,
Listening to the cricket's song,
Watching white clouds drift along.
I found a separate, loving peace,
Near the river's restless shore,
Listening to the water rush,
Dreaming in the twilight's hush.
I found a separate, loving peace,
Walking down a country lane,
Listening to the rustling grass,
Letting minutes slowly pass.
Pungent scent of Queen Anne's Lace,
Warmth of sunshine's bright embrace,
A separate peace, an interlude,
A blessed touch of solitude.
Alone with thoughts,
Alone with Grace,
I found a separate holy place.
1999
Zacchaeus
Red dust rose in panting puffs
To hang as haze in shimmering heat,
As sunlight baked late summer's earth,
Parching brown the weed-laced turf.
Market morning disappeared,
Along with baskets, carts and jars,
Along with sellers' sing-song chants,
Loud bargaining and bickering,
Along with beggars' lonely rasps
And traders' raucous dickering.
A routine day of daily bread,
Of working, sighing lay ahead,
Until the mirth of children's cries
Caused laborers to raise their eyes
From toiling in the fields of grain.
A gathering crowd blocked the gate to Jericho,
There to await the cause of such disruption.
Some clambered onto stony walls,
Or squatted by the dusty road.
A stir, a murmur, rose and fell
Like ringing from some distant bell.
"Jesus of Nazareth passes by!"
The crowd picked up the rippling cry.
They pushed and shoved to better see
This Jesus come from Galilee,
Who preached of peace and brotherhood.
He stopped and for a moment stood
Beneath a graceful broad-leafed tree,
A sycamore, whose dappling shade touched all below.
It's sturdy boughs offered up a stout-limbed seat;
As Zacchaeus dangled grimy feet
Above the heads of those proceeding.
The tax collector peered around,
Looking such a curious clown.
Jesus laughed and reached his hand
Up to the eager, little man.
"Zacchaeus, you must come down!
I'll stay with you, now that you're found."
Zacchaeus grinned and jigged with joy;
He welcomed Jesus to his home.
A transformation brightly shown in his dark eyes.
Zacchaeus' greed had surely flown;
The seeds of love by Christ were sown.
Peace will come to those
Who search for Jesus' gift.
Those words of love will gently lift
The young, the old, the poor, the meek,
The sinner, the saint, the strong, the weak,
The outcast lost of humankind,
Need only seek and they shall find.
2002
The Lonely Path
Swiftly fading, purple streaks
Marked the sun's retreating flight.
A small group slowly made their way
Up the path into the night.
Birdsong's bright notes were replaced
By sleepy, random chirping,
While crickets in crescendo tuned
Their evening's presentation.
A murky dampness chilled the air,
Creeping from the valley's loam.
Peter tripped and cursed the stone
Unseen in gathering gloom.
Jesus turned and looked behind
At weary bodies following Him,
Trudging, stumbling up the path,
Heads bowed down and faces grim.
He heard the sighing of their breath,
And felt the fear of their confusion.
He longed to comfort and console,
To cast away their dread.
Yet, he knew he had to face
The agony that lay ahead.
They reached the garden on the mount,
As darkness settled in;
Each dropping heavily to the ground
To sit awhile with Him.
Fatigue and sadness took it's toll,
As one by one their eyelids drooped.
Jesus watched them nod to sleep,
Leaving Him alone to keep
The night-watch over these, His sheep.
He reached a hand out to His friends,
His followers, His companions.
They stirred but could not stay awake.
He was in need, but for their sake
Forgave them human weakness.
Like any man, He was afraid;
And suffered from the knowledge that
Soon, He was to be betrayed
By those He loved,
Nor would they stay
To ease His pain along the way.
He sought His Father one last time,
Begging to be spared the task;
Though He knew as He asked
The cup of sacrifice was passed.
His Father's will would be done
By this gentle, loving Son.
2002
Where Can We See Him?
His face is painted in cathedral domes.
It graces the gilded chapels of kings.
Each age portrays it differently
On tapestries and glowing glass,
As pious, precious offerings.
Chanting monks proclaimed His glory,
Symphonies for Him were writ.
Ancient texts and learned tomes
Were meant to tell His story.
And yet, I ponder in my heart
About this gentle man,
Who never owned an ermine robe
Nor smallest piece of land.
He spoke of love and tolerance.
He lived among the poor.
He fought no wars. He offered peace.
His message has endured.
Millions claim to follow Him,
With eyes that cannot see,
Unless they seek His face anew,
In suffering humanity.
2002
Ashes
It comforts me to know
This earthly body will return
To Mother Earth, to loamy soil.
Seasons will come and pass away.
Rains will wash and cleanse
What snow and ice must freeze anew.
Sun-washed days bring thaws to sod.
Grass grows green once again.
Summer's heat will turn it brown and brittle.
The tree above looks down
To offer cooling shade,
Then carpets the earth with autumn amber.
Songs of wind and claps of thunder
Make music on the passing clouds.
My ashes slumber in eternal rest,
While my soul continues on its journey
Toward the light, toward peace and love.
2003
I found a separate, loving peace,
Underneath the summer trees,
Listening to the cricket's song,
Watching white clouds drift along.
I found a separate, loving peace,
Near the river's restless shore,
Listening to the water rush,
Dreaming in the twilight's hush.
I found a separate, loving peace,
Walking down a country lane,
Listening to the rustling grass,
Letting minutes slowly pass.
Pungent scent of Queen Anne's Lace,
Warmth of sunshine's bright embrace,
A separate peace, an interlude,
A blessed touch of solitude.
Alone with thoughts,
Alone with Grace,
I found a separate holy place.
1999
Zacchaeus
Red dust rose in panting puffs
To hang as haze in shimmering heat,
As sunlight baked late summer's earth,
Parching brown the weed-laced turf.
Market morning disappeared,
Along with baskets, carts and jars,
Along with sellers' sing-song chants,
Loud bargaining and bickering,
Along with beggars' lonely rasps
And traders' raucous dickering.
A routine day of daily bread,
Of working, sighing lay ahead,
Until the mirth of children's cries
Caused laborers to raise their eyes
From toiling in the fields of grain.
A gathering crowd blocked the gate to Jericho,
There to await the cause of such disruption.
Some clambered onto stony walls,
Or squatted by the dusty road.
A stir, a murmur, rose and fell
Like ringing from some distant bell.
"Jesus of Nazareth passes by!"
The crowd picked up the rippling cry.
They pushed and shoved to better see
This Jesus come from Galilee,
Who preached of peace and brotherhood.
He stopped and for a moment stood
Beneath a graceful broad-leafed tree,
A sycamore, whose dappling shade touched all below.
It's sturdy boughs offered up a stout-limbed seat;
As Zacchaeus dangled grimy feet
Above the heads of those proceeding.
The tax collector peered around,
Looking such a curious clown.
Jesus laughed and reached his hand
Up to the eager, little man.
"Zacchaeus, you must come down!
I'll stay with you, now that you're found."
Zacchaeus grinned and jigged with joy;
He welcomed Jesus to his home.
A transformation brightly shown in his dark eyes.
Zacchaeus' greed had surely flown;
The seeds of love by Christ were sown.
Peace will come to those
Who search for Jesus' gift.
Those words of love will gently lift
The young, the old, the poor, the meek,
The sinner, the saint, the strong, the weak,
The outcast lost of humankind,
Need only seek and they shall find.
2002
The Lonely Path
Swiftly fading, purple streaks
Marked the sun's retreating flight.
A small group slowly made their way
Up the path into the night.
Birdsong's bright notes were replaced
By sleepy, random chirping,
While crickets in crescendo tuned
Their evening's presentation.
A murky dampness chilled the air,
Creeping from the valley's loam.
Peter tripped and cursed the stone
Unseen in gathering gloom.
Jesus turned and looked behind
At weary bodies following Him,
Trudging, stumbling up the path,
Heads bowed down and faces grim.
He heard the sighing of their breath,
And felt the fear of their confusion.
He longed to comfort and console,
To cast away their dread.
Yet, he knew he had to face
The agony that lay ahead.
They reached the garden on the mount,
As darkness settled in;
Each dropping heavily to the ground
To sit awhile with Him.
Fatigue and sadness took it's toll,
As one by one their eyelids drooped.
Jesus watched them nod to sleep,
Leaving Him alone to keep
The night-watch over these, His sheep.
He reached a hand out to His friends,
His followers, His companions.
They stirred but could not stay awake.
He was in need, but for their sake
Forgave them human weakness.
Like any man, He was afraid;
And suffered from the knowledge that
Soon, He was to be betrayed
By those He loved,
Nor would they stay
To ease His pain along the way.
He sought His Father one last time,
Begging to be spared the task;
Though He knew as He asked
The cup of sacrifice was passed.
His Father's will would be done
By this gentle, loving Son.
2002
Where Can We See Him?
His face is painted in cathedral domes.
It graces the gilded chapels of kings.
Each age portrays it differently
On tapestries and glowing glass,
As pious, precious offerings.
Chanting monks proclaimed His glory,
Symphonies for Him were writ.
Ancient texts and learned tomes
Were meant to tell His story.
And yet, I ponder in my heart
About this gentle man,
Who never owned an ermine robe
Nor smallest piece of land.
He spoke of love and tolerance.
He lived among the poor.
He fought no wars. He offered peace.
His message has endured.
Millions claim to follow Him,
With eyes that cannot see,
Unless they seek His face anew,
In suffering humanity.
2002
Ashes
It comforts me to know
This earthly body will return
To Mother Earth, to loamy soil.
Seasons will come and pass away.
Rains will wash and cleanse
What snow and ice must freeze anew.
Sun-washed days bring thaws to sod.
Grass grows green once again.
Summer's heat will turn it brown and brittle.
The tree above looks down
To offer cooling shade,
Then carpets the earth with autumn amber.
Songs of wind and claps of thunder
Make music on the passing clouds.
My ashes slumber in eternal rest,
While my soul continues on its journey
Toward the light, toward peace and love.
2003
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Mandalas
The Hawk
I looked outside my window
At the cold, gray day.
A snow patch huddled here and there,
Adding to the sad display.
Sparrows flew in anxious flocks,
Seeking shelter in the pines.
A hawk came down from leaden skies,
And sat upon a naked branch.
He watched in silence, still and proud,
Then swooped upon the twittering crowd
Of tiny, unsuspecting birds.
One creature less would join the flock,
The hawk would have his evening meal.
Life is lost, life is sustained,
To be re-created again and again,
Throughout the vastness of eternity,
The hawk, the sparrow, flying free.
2003
Stone
History is written on the stones,
That mark the graves of lives destroyed
For power, for gold, for one man's throne.
The wind and rain have left their mark
Upon the granite cold and stark.
A name that once was life and love
Lies silent 'neath the mourning dove,
While time continues on its course
To conquer kings without remorse.
The sound and fury was for naught,
It should have been a lesson taught.
The wise man learns, but fools rush in.
Once again, the tale begins.
2004
The Front Porch Glider
Tonight, the wind
Swept the rain across the street.
My Lion Dog and I
Watched the scattering leaves,
From our glider seat
Upon the porch.
The street lamp cast a glistening glow
Near pools of water lurking
On the darkened sidewalk and the curb.
We sat beneath the porch and vines
That twined in twirls above our heads,
With outlines of the grape vines,
Like cutouts in the window light.
We were dry, but not for long,
As gusts swept raindrops on our bower.
I murmered softly to my dog,
"The wind has changed direction now,
And autumn wants to enter."
Reluctantly, we left our seat,
To leave the wind to grace the hours.
2005
Slower Pace
Yesterday, I shook hands with JFK.
Yesterday, I left home for college and was frightend,
And hopeful.
I was on my way.
Marriage, babies, a war,
Work, death and loss,
Weaved in and out of life's colored cloth.
Days became years, years wandered past.
Time was either too slow or too fast.
There were times when I whispered:
"This, too, shall pass."
Grandchildren make me smile,
Butterflies will,
And chickadees on my windowsill.
I visit Mother's grave on a hill,
Under a tree, and tell her she left me
To carry on.
I've made a small garden there behind her stone.
You can do that in country plots.
She loved gardens,
Smiling in a light, spring breeze.
So do I.
Aunt Rilla and Aunt B rest nearby.
They gave me roots.
Their memory lives on
In irises, in roses and in tiny, budding shoots.
When I go to join them, when the night bird calls,
Remember I loved children, cats and dogs,
And, "all creatures great and small."
Remember me when you see
Hollyhocks and lilacs.
Remember me when you see bright, October skies.
Until then, know I wish you peace,
I wish you joy and grace.
Now that I've turned sixty,
Let wisdom guide my slower pace.
2005
Waiting
Snow covers the ice
Of ponds that lie silent
In a frozen night.
Saturn is bright in the black, eastern sky.
They say its rings are made of rock and ice.
The thought of that offers no warmth.
I try to dream of crocuses waiting,
Waiting to push through the hardened earth.
Hope is like sunshine, patience is all.
My memories bring forth a burst of poppies
By a roadside waving,
And purple iris by a white farmhouse.
Mother and I walked in the field,
Sunlight streaming down on clover,
As we headed toward the winding creek
To watch sunfish dart among the ripples.
At last, I feel warmth within.
Now memories wrap my soul in sunshine.
The rings of Saturn spin and spin,
Trapped in gravity's cold embrace,
While I am flying free on wings of hope
And love remembered.
2006
Whirligig
Whirling through eternity,
I came into the light,
And laughed and danced to heaven's tune.
Aha! I shouted merrily,
So that is it! That is the answer!
I am one with all that was
And is and ever shall be.
We all dance together,
Wind and fire, air and earth, stars and oceans,
Whirling, twirling
Dancing through eternity.
2006
Dancing Leaves
I watched the leaves dance in the dusk.
They whispered in the evening wind,
And waved their last goodbyes
To a softly fading sunset.
My garden wears golden shades
Of autumn's kiss,
While shadows deepen as I sit
In silence and at peace within.
This moment is a gift to cherish,
Tucked away with sunshine days
And moonlit scent of yellow roses.
I'll open up my treasure box,
When heavy skies of gray press down,
As gloomy clouds begin to gather.
Once again my inner smile
Will come to me with memories
Of autumn's dancing leaves.
2007
Frustration
How can I change the world?
Oh my, that does sound grandiose.
A world where greed controls the game.
It always has.
It stays the same.
Thousands die for wealth and power.
Like marionettes on tightened strings,
They dance the dance
But do not sing.
One less prayer,
One less song,
In the end, they go along.
So where can I raise up my voice?
Do I even have a choice,
Against the call to senseless death,
Against the tide of mindlessness...
How can I change the world?
There's only one way I can see,
Although so small,
It still must be.
The change should surely start with me.
With love and peace
That rules the heart.
There is where we all must start.
2008
Circles and Cycles
Running in circles
Usually means
We have no direction,
We're lost in the din.
Yet life is a circle,
A cycle that spins
From birth to childhood to adolescence,
Adulthood, middle age, at last golden years.
We pass through each phase with our losses and tears.
We pass through each phase with our yearnings and dreams,
Weaving within us what each phase means,
While spinnning and spinning a thread that is strong.
Not fearing our autumn,
Not grasping for youth,
Nor chanting the could haves,
would haves,
should haves,
Still seeking and pondering each inner truth.
Sweetly, we'll treasure the day's setting sun,
With smile lines so gracious
And gray hairs well earned.
We share what we know,
We value what's learned.
The houses, the cars, the vanity clothes
Mean less now than kindness and caring that's shown
in holding a hand,
in sharing a loss,
in kissing a baby,
in bearing a cross.
The scent of a flower,
A breeze in the night,
The chirping of crickets,
Dawn's glowing light.
We welcome the showers as spring turns to summer,
And summer greets fall,
Winter will come, but then comes the thaw.
While the cycle keeps running,
The wheel ever spins the threads that are woven,
Again and again.
2008
I looked outside my window
At the cold, gray day.
A snow patch huddled here and there,
Adding to the sad display.
Sparrows flew in anxious flocks,
Seeking shelter in the pines.
A hawk came down from leaden skies,
And sat upon a naked branch.
He watched in silence, still and proud,
Then swooped upon the twittering crowd
Of tiny, unsuspecting birds.
One creature less would join the flock,
The hawk would have his evening meal.
Life is lost, life is sustained,
To be re-created again and again,
Throughout the vastness of eternity,
The hawk, the sparrow, flying free.
2003
Stone
History is written on the stones,
That mark the graves of lives destroyed
For power, for gold, for one man's throne.
The wind and rain have left their mark
Upon the granite cold and stark.
A name that once was life and love
Lies silent 'neath the mourning dove,
While time continues on its course
To conquer kings without remorse.
The sound and fury was for naught,
It should have been a lesson taught.
The wise man learns, but fools rush in.
Once again, the tale begins.
2004
The Front Porch Glider
Tonight, the wind
Swept the rain across the street.
My Lion Dog and I
Watched the scattering leaves,
From our glider seat
Upon the porch.
The street lamp cast a glistening glow
Near pools of water lurking
On the darkened sidewalk and the curb.
We sat beneath the porch and vines
That twined in twirls above our heads,
With outlines of the grape vines,
Like cutouts in the window light.
We were dry, but not for long,
As gusts swept raindrops on our bower.
I murmered softly to my dog,
"The wind has changed direction now,
And autumn wants to enter."
Reluctantly, we left our seat,
To leave the wind to grace the hours.
2005
Slower Pace
Yesterday, I shook hands with JFK.
Yesterday, I left home for college and was frightend,
And hopeful.
I was on my way.
Marriage, babies, a war,
Work, death and loss,
Weaved in and out of life's colored cloth.
Days became years, years wandered past.
Time was either too slow or too fast.
There were times when I whispered:
"This, too, shall pass."
Grandchildren make me smile,
Butterflies will,
And chickadees on my windowsill.
I visit Mother's grave on a hill,
Under a tree, and tell her she left me
To carry on.
I've made a small garden there behind her stone.
You can do that in country plots.
She loved gardens,
Smiling in a light, spring breeze.
So do I.
Aunt Rilla and Aunt B rest nearby.
They gave me roots.
Their memory lives on
In irises, in roses and in tiny, budding shoots.
When I go to join them, when the night bird calls,
Remember I loved children, cats and dogs,
And, "all creatures great and small."
Remember me when you see
Hollyhocks and lilacs.
Remember me when you see bright, October skies.
Until then, know I wish you peace,
I wish you joy and grace.
Now that I've turned sixty,
Let wisdom guide my slower pace.
2005
Waiting
Snow covers the ice
Of ponds that lie silent
In a frozen night.
Saturn is bright in the black, eastern sky.
They say its rings are made of rock and ice.
The thought of that offers no warmth.
I try to dream of crocuses waiting,
Waiting to push through the hardened earth.
Hope is like sunshine, patience is all.
My memories bring forth a burst of poppies
By a roadside waving,
And purple iris by a white farmhouse.
Mother and I walked in the field,
Sunlight streaming down on clover,
As we headed toward the winding creek
To watch sunfish dart among the ripples.
At last, I feel warmth within.
Now memories wrap my soul in sunshine.
The rings of Saturn spin and spin,
Trapped in gravity's cold embrace,
While I am flying free on wings of hope
And love remembered.
2006
Whirligig
Whirling through eternity,
I came into the light,
And laughed and danced to heaven's tune.
Aha! I shouted merrily,
So that is it! That is the answer!
I am one with all that was
And is and ever shall be.
We all dance together,
Wind and fire, air and earth, stars and oceans,
Whirling, twirling
Dancing through eternity.
2006
Dancing Leaves
I watched the leaves dance in the dusk.
They whispered in the evening wind,
And waved their last goodbyes
To a softly fading sunset.
My garden wears golden shades
Of autumn's kiss,
While shadows deepen as I sit
In silence and at peace within.
This moment is a gift to cherish,
Tucked away with sunshine days
And moonlit scent of yellow roses.
I'll open up my treasure box,
When heavy skies of gray press down,
As gloomy clouds begin to gather.
Once again my inner smile
Will come to me with memories
Of autumn's dancing leaves.
2007
Frustration
How can I change the world?
Oh my, that does sound grandiose.
A world where greed controls the game.
It always has.
It stays the same.
Thousands die for wealth and power.
Like marionettes on tightened strings,
They dance the dance
But do not sing.
One less prayer,
One less song,
In the end, they go along.
So where can I raise up my voice?
Do I even have a choice,
Against the call to senseless death,
Against the tide of mindlessness...
How can I change the world?
There's only one way I can see,
Although so small,
It still must be.
The change should surely start with me.
With love and peace
That rules the heart.
There is where we all must start.
2008
Circles and Cycles
Running in circles
Usually means
We have no direction,
We're lost in the din.
Yet life is a circle,
A cycle that spins
From birth to childhood to adolescence,
Adulthood, middle age, at last golden years.
We pass through each phase with our losses and tears.
We pass through each phase with our yearnings and dreams,
Weaving within us what each phase means,
While spinnning and spinning a thread that is strong.
Not fearing our autumn,
Not grasping for youth,
Nor chanting the could haves,
would haves,
should haves,
Still seeking and pondering each inner truth.
Sweetly, we'll treasure the day's setting sun,
With smile lines so gracious
And gray hairs well earned.
We share what we know,
We value what's learned.
The houses, the cars, the vanity clothes
Mean less now than kindness and caring that's shown
in holding a hand,
in sharing a loss,
in kissing a baby,
in bearing a cross.
The scent of a flower,
A breeze in the night,
The chirping of crickets,
Dawn's glowing light.
We welcome the showers as spring turns to summer,
And summer greets fall,
Winter will come, but then comes the thaw.
While the cycle keeps running,
The wheel ever spins the threads that are woven,
Again and again.
2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
