Author Archives: feralpoet

The rocky lip

05 Friday Jun 2015

Posted by in devotion, discomfort, Inspire, learning, movement, nature, poems, poetry

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You climb the mountain,

slow step after conscious step,

and see before you stones, sharp underfoot,

angular in the strong sun..

Sweat beads and drips and

it’s a recognizable salty pleasure but

water,

water is good.

Sparse trees

bent

by the wind-

forbs wiggle in it,

hair every which way from it.

Steadily on, you walk,

glad for movement.

The peak looms large, but your tongue

and mind taste it.

Finally there- moments from the top- 

and breathing deepens, eases, you

sigh.

Reaching the rocky lip,

not caring your laces drag behind,

you hook thumb under strap 

of your heavy pack,

welcoming a stretch of rest..

When

you glimpse 

what didn’t seem likely- not now,

not here,

not this,

but another peak in a range the map said

was done-

Oh unexplained territory,

unforetold valley and mountain ahead..

Silly map.

No one can ever anticipate

what lies ahead

for only you.

Adrift

28 Thursday May 2015

Posted by in abundance, becoming, courage, discomfort, freedom, gratitude, listen, movement, poems, poetry, presence, the road, transition, wonder

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Adrift,

alone and wandering…

time to tend closely.

Fear rises with groundlessness-

unanswered questions

become the new earth to tread.

Being nowhere

requires patience.

Patience, the bone builder,

the strength bringer,

the knowing one;

She who comes to a whisper

yet stays only with grunts.

Approach softly 

and keep your mental seat.

Carving pathways demands

sustained effort.

Laughter rises upon landing

in the open arms of the unknown-

we deceive ourselves if we think

it’s ever any different.

If you want

27 Wednesday May 2015

Posted by in craving, learning, listen, poems, poetry, Sight

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Stop drilling

your eyes

into

me.

Otherwise,

those bits built for wood

will bite

metal.

I’ve depths your dreams don’t even reach,

were it not so

you’d know better than to seek thus.

Fasten yourself, if you want 

the sensuous ride-

let go and fall

inward.

There

you 

will

find

Me,

the bodiless

embodiment–

She who has no name.


She leaves behind

25 Monday May 2015

Posted by in abundance, becoming, courage, joy, learning, poems, poetry, release, transition

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She leaves behind

a constriction of heart,

with protective, limited beating, and

steps into a centerless center

with rivers vast..

tributaries both drawing and feeding..

Headwaters spring silently

out of mountains, and build depth 

hollowing gorges.

Miles and miles

of woven waterways, each

with a Song.

Her heart is no longer an organ but

a Way

with rhythm.

What keeps a day

25 Monday May 2015

Posted by in abundance, beauty, nature, poems, poetry, receiving, release, Sight

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Olives here taste of rooted earth,

perfume,

undissolved salt…

in minute crystals.

I am as lopsided as any human,

careful with my creations but learning

as often as the sun is rising-

anywhere.

What is golden to my eye may appear blue

to you.

Isn’t that what keeps a day

and a long-stretching night ripe

with intrigue and a mineral calm?

The Aegean waits for my skin

to touch it again.

Fruiting trees observe

with time’s ease and abundance.

My own sorrows are meaningless

in sight of Beauty,

they are salt

added to the Sea.

He sits

24 Sunday May 2015

Posted by in abundance, aging, beauty, nature, peace, poems, poetry, work

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He sits,

this man in his garden,

on an upturned bucket

in the afternoon shade of an olive tree, 

smoking a cigarette.

His downward gaze surveys lines

of young plants, his recent work,

and plucks whatever potential-

of lazy thought

of future harvest

of aches, of history-

of each inhalation in his own world

where bees hover 

to take him in.

i do not forfeit

23 Saturday May 2015

Posted by in becoming, death, poems, poetry, presence, transition

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rock and water and sky,

stone and salt and wind.

if I wear skulls

they are not for your eyes to fondle-

like the bones I steep 

in nutrient-rich broth

i do not forfeit all my secrets.

pushing for the mystery

will bring plastic and cliche,

which your senses will detect

as truth.

in falsity,

protection.

Blow her alive

15 Friday May 2015

Posted by in abundance, devotion, learning, listen, movement, nature, poems, poetry, presence, release

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Wind scours Skyros,

casting off whatever doesn’t blow her alive.

Roosters call into her,

releasing ritual morning battle cries-

two voices, 

one earthless,

one earthbound,

twist together in a marriage of grand and minute.

Cats own the streets below her gaping arms,

molding themselves into stone hollows,

low and restful,

knowing that to cling is to miss the beckoning..

Open opposite windows

and your room will fill with dervishes.

Drop it all,

unclasp fingers and release hold-

Spirit sings into nothing less.