Sweet William

ebbtide

yesterday, I carried a sprig of Sweet William
three miles to a favorite poet’s grave
simply because you do not have one

and there, the trees were a free-for-all
of birds – oh, gorgeous, noisome riot!

some other Spring mourner before me had left
a tiny, silver “s” of a snake – something you
(poet, brother) both would have appreciated

each year, I am less clever, more gray –
but only this newspaper clipping of you ages

© Sarah Whiteley

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The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn

THE PIPER AT THE GATES OF DAWN

It’s one step forward
Two steps back – or so it seems
Dreams become nightmares
The darkest hour they say
Occurs just before the dawn

The Trump Of Doom

THE TRUMP OF DOOM

Hark! The wake-up call
For those not already too
Deeply hypnotised

what the birds know.

Thank you for this.

Wallflower Whimsy

There is no greater purpose than

this right here,

this right now,

existing within a pocket

of warm air and birdsong,

so many little voices

singing their praises of life.

This moment when

the sun’s rosy kisses

make the horizon blush

contains within it

the answers that

men die for —

that men kill for.

If only we would

silence the madness

for a brief moment

and listen with our hearts

to the meaning of bird’s songs,

perhaps we might sense the

humbling magnitude

of life itself —

the gift that is every sunrise,

the gift that is every spring,

the gift that is this opportunity

to exist within such boundless beauty.

If only for a moment

we would choose

to set aside

our convictions,

our trauma,

our tragedy,

we might begin feeling

what inspires birds to sing,

we might comprehend

life without condition,

we might truly know

what it is to love.

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Group-think Doesn’t Just Happen

Please do remember this next time you’re watching “the news” and similar broadcasts. (If you still bother.) And it’s also pretty funny. 🙂

A Gift Of Laughter

A GIFT OF LAUGHTER

Kate and Sydney Pye
Amused us by becoming
Vegetarians

One Cell

ONE CELL

“All cells of one body we”
Proclaims this postulate
A self-erasing assertion
“Take nothing for granted”
Proclaims this postulate

Yes all cells of one body
“Some folk get that intuitively”
Proclaims this postulate
“Others … not so easily
So we lend a hand”

“Tell them about Jah love”
As kindly advised Prince Far I
Yet few recall him these days
Even the devoted tribute site
Hosts unwarranted cobwebs

Let me wipe those away then
Resuscitate these lost words
A personal tribute, a pebble
An addition to the cairn decrying
Reggae to be a finished force

“Prince Far I, a man
To grace any style with wisdom
A chanter to quake the walls of the city
A preacher to strike fear in the weakheart
Humble in the garden and proud in the city,
Was shot dead in Jamaica, September 15, 1983
One year short of his 40th birthday.”

Yet his words re-echo yet
Remain ripe for re-utterence
“I am only but a visitor here
I am only but a stranger here
Mount Zion is my home”

 

A Jungle Fable, Microcosms Entry

I couldn’t resist either.

Kelly Griffiths

On a dismal November day an election was held to determine who would rule the jungle. This jungle was, in fact, a great laboratory in which a grand experiment was taking place. Only two animals ever got traction as rulers: the donkeys or the elephants. This went on and on in a sort of power tug-of-war.

The elephants were colossal, fat beings that could and would crush small creatures. Laws annoyed them, for they got in the way. The donkeys, preferring not to be called asses, were burdened creatures. They carried around other people’s treasure, redistributing it and enacting lots and lots of laws to legalize their ends. As often happens in contests, winning and holding power became more important than governing the jungle. So many promises the elephants and donkeys made… so many broken.

Ticked off and exasperated beyond belief, the animals panted for something heretofore… insane. An animal…

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The Lighthouse

THE LIGHTHOUSE

Miles from the nearest
Battered by the blustery

Beware of danger, be safe, be safe
Beware of danger, be safe, be safe

Boots cemented in resolution
Pulsing into intermittent flashing

Beware of danger, be safe, be safe
Beware of danger, be safe, be safe

These are the rocks that tear timbers
These are the rocks that gobble souls

Beware of danger, be safe, be safe
Beware of danger, be safe, be safe

Who better to understand navigation
And lend a hand across the choppy seas?

Beware of danger, be safe, be safe
Beware of danger, be safe, be safe

Than one who ran aground long ago
Fell apart and never twain shall meet

Beware of danger, be safe, be safe
Beware of danger, be safe, be safe

Tributaries

belas bright ideas

Black is the color of undefined space,
of chasms so large many fear to fall,
inky background behind the night rainbow
void of busy-ness of day,
flowing cleanly down the split shaft
of an old quill pen, seeping deeply
into dimples of vellum;

Striking contrast, none or full phases
of lunation, back to black, again
and anon, ebony skin bejeweled
in glorious hues, unruly hair
and wild patterned dress,
cradle of civilization suffused
with damp earthen heat;

Unsterile, untamed, U as in unify, more
like u-turn, what did I miss, back to origins,
basics, unity in community, necessitating
complementarity, muting
blinding tonalities of white;

Born into a dusky womb, darkness follows
into death, settled now into the earth,
home we take for granted
until breath and water are gone.

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