your Beauty
She’s an inner star.
Her light
dims
with attempts to purchase.
Put away the credit card.
Remember who you are.
your Beauty
29 Tuesday Mar 2016
Monthly Archives: March 2016
The creation of this space~
28 Monday Mar 2016
Posted in poetry
≈ Comments Off on The creation of this space~
Because this was dangling in space and needed to be revisited, I post this a second time- with the contact info.
About:
Rooted, embodied, bound, nourished.
In.
Grace, the Infinite, artful movement, the expression of silence.
A gathering of the ephemeral and the limitless.
A medicine of word.
Welcome. Your presence, and any comments you may offer, are a gift.
Reproduction or use of any of the materials on this site are by permission only. Please send an email if interested~
feralpoetrootedingrace@gmail.com
In gratitude…
The grain mill
27 Sunday Mar 2016
Stretches
(or pockets,
or loop-de-loops)
of time
(meaningless time)
in transition
with sensations of being ground
in the grain mill,
where would we be without them?
In a blistering wind
anger rises and hands us the energy
to do away
with a trail of uselessness hitching
to our backsides.
(Why were we dragging that marriage/house/walrus again?)
Without halting in mad winds
who jostle our brains and
send hairs flying
we’d not have noticed the 872 pounds
of shit
attached to our spines
which
we can now let go of.
Hallelujah for stopping
to strike the match of compassionate flame
and throwing it on
a tinderbox of ancient nonsense.
Hey Canada
26 Saturday Mar 2016
hello to you in Canada-
yep, you, the one often viewing my page numerous times per day:
what keeps you coming back?
an email address is listed in the about section…
I’d like to hear from you.
{nope, this isn’t a poem. a good day to all you readers. thanks for hanging out ~}
Your next offering
24 Thursday Mar 2016
When things fall apart,
rest.
Pieces
litter the floor,
and probably your heart.
Let them.
A new equilibrium
finds itself
in the passing of light into dark
and back again.
Art gives time
another meaning.
The brokennesses-
curious remnants of another life-
are nothing.
Simply raw material
for the most exquisite
mosaic
and
your next offering
of soul.
Searing darkness
17 Thursday Mar 2016
How searing the Darkness.
Sights, dismissed, rise
through earthquaking uplift,
making smaller even
the microstrains of normalcy.
Withholding time from the forgotten,
the never known,
ends
when what had been thrown aside speaks,
“I am you.”
Thank the breath still given and
every fiber of your being
for the strength
to bring the orphaned and hated and dispossessed
close enough
to see the pain in their eyes,
and to assemble what Light
does soothe.
That precious illusion
16 Wednesday Mar 2016
Knowing,
that precious illusion,
needles and digs
until
a gasp can puncture
and
welcome
Unknown
back into the dance
Canvas
15 Tuesday Mar 2016
Being a canvas
life- God- paints upon,
wouldn’t you say it’s only right,
natural,
to celebrate
each bit
from soft eye, scar,
scratch divot curve and curl,
shorter leg and smaller foot
to brisk brilliant sneeze?
Divine art doesn’t exactly
deserve
a critic like you-
or that guy from the coffee shop-
in the end,
does it?
Stars burst into being
15 Tuesday Mar 2016
I am not your secret,
a thimble to tuck in a pocket.
Entire universes buck
at being diminished thus.
Fires rage, planets tremble,
stars burst into being.
If contracting a life into bite-size squares
soothes your longing,
please chop yourself to pieces instead.
Thimbles protect.
Creation expands…
On the front line
14 Monday Mar 2016
Utterly afraid
to look foolish,
we look foolishly at the world
expecting a straight face and the right shoes
to buy us into the awards ceremony.
On the front line of sorrow and pain
a mouse would scurry,
a bear would sit
scratching its bum
on the perfect tree.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 