Category Archives: beauty

A new life begins

09 Sunday Sep 2018

Posted by in adventure, beauty, becoming, break out, change, learning, movement, poems, poetry, the road

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A new life begins

and the old one decides to throw a tantrum

pulling pans, mid-bubble, off the stove,

pitching a canister of oats across the tile

unscrewing the cap on the honey just enough

to guarantee a disaster the moment it’s needed.

You’re in the muck of it,

the stuck of it,

and an evil grin blooms slightly on your old life’s face

who sits nearly out of sight

helping you to forget its presence

until

you shake your head, bounce dust out of ears,

and spot it there.

No sir! This game, while it has been fun,

is no more.

With a step, a bit of a jig, you leave not only the kitchen

but the house

leaving whatever sticky puddle behind

for the ants to clean up.

Where lies

26 Sunday Aug 2018

Posted by in abundance, beauty, becoming, break out, change, community, courage, crafting, Creating, devotion, dreams, freedom, honoring, listen, movement, nature, poems, poetry, prayer, release, song, stillness, welcoming, wonder, work

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If a push,

somewhere a pull.

Where taken,

pray it has been given.

The Western sense of community..

in itself a paradox?

We’re part–everyone–of centuries of history

cycling, tumbling, molasses-thick onward

with nanosecond “advances.”

No mystery that you, and you, and I

can not seem to catch our breath.

Faster is not forward,

as bigger not better, nor more money success.

Where lies the soul stuff making life

Life?

Where is your Beauty?

31 Tuesday Jul 2018

Posted by in abundance, beauty, becoming, Found, Love, mystery, poems, poetry, welcoming

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Where is your Beauty?

Surely not

in the new shoes, fresh haircut,

expensive manufactured perfume or

endless product

product

product

pushed, hawked, manipulated into your brain

tinkering with insecurities secret and unspoken.

Your Beauty,

your Beauty! exists. Period. No one sells it to you,

convinces you of it, holds it over you, or

wants you solely because of it-

that sort is no kin of Beauty, but mere poison.

The posh tie, synthetic cologne, hippest beard or band-

they’ll not birth Beauty either.

No mask is She. Neither bought nor sold,

She is spark, and giggle, dance step and honest stumble.

She is inspiration,

your in-spiring moment to moment.

Nurture these and Beauty rises, rises,

a river filling thirsty banks longing

to sing her praises.

Come back

05 Thursday Jul 2018

Posted by in abundance, beauty, Body, home, movement, nature, poems, poetry, welcoming, wonder, work

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In search of meaning

but having to pay the bills.

Needing to matter,

but busy cursing the neglected dogs keeping you awake.

Reaching, yet thick in mud,

being with a sideways mess of months of days

and snarled in the wonderment of

what, in hell, this is all about…

Coming back, returning to echoes of your own one body,

again, again, again, again,

the home your fantasy conjured

minus the straightforwardness and glitter

of safe comfortable forever there

except it is precisely that in folly

and learning and diligent removal of concept

and heavy cultural residue.

This is home, your body, waiting,

waiting

for you to come back

to what is real, always with you, and still

strangely

not known.

The clay we’re given

15 Friday Jun 2018

Posted by in abundance, beauty, becoming, courage, Creating, devotion, Infinite, Love, poems, poetry, wonder, work

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Someone told me today,

“You have great energy.”

Someone else

turned out to be my middle school literature teacher.

Another day, perhaps, I’m terrible,

and a familiar stranger might not be

who I think at all.

Ground is uneven.

Earthquakes come, volcanoes blow.

A life is a creative act,

parceled out in retrospect,

birthed forward through chaos.

Unformed to the end

each of us shapes the clay we’re given.

The world will think

whatever it thinks,

what matters is speaking God straight back

into God’s own ear.

Work of the chrysalis

27 Sunday May 2018

Posted by in beauty, becoming, change, discomfort, flight, movement, mystery, nature, poems, poetry, transition, work

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The transformed steals the love-light,

not for greed

but for our preference.

What’s left behind in grit and dust,

even discarded in rank alleyways,

is the work of the chrysalis.

The

cramped

confused

identity-erasing

dark

of wrestling for the next life form,

of flight,

of nectar,

of tumbling in gravity’s wave

among flowers, bees and blue.

Remember what beauty lies in ugliness

before walking away from the misunderstood.

Passing by at any hour

15 Sunday Apr 2018

Posted by in beauty, movement, nature, poems, poetry, welcoming

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Beauty is

bird suspended, waves breaking one

in to another,

hills woven of shoulders, hips, toes,

clouds sliding across blue..

It is not the

must possess, perfect, expensive, mechanical conquest

mine,

but

connection, relationship, tangle of bouncing language, laughter song around the twilighted corner, and

being followed softly home.

How did we confuse it with a thing to buy,

an object to have,

a keeping to be kept by?

She tells her own story,

never upon command, and

if meaning vanishes the crease between our brow,

planting our feet more firmly on this earth,

we are in her Presence, an arrival of moments

passing by at any hour.

Grief so light

17 Saturday Mar 2018

Posted by in beauty, becoming, Body, break out, change, Deliverance, Fire, learning, movement, poems, poetry, Run

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Grabbing at her skirts with reaching manly hands

uninvited

toward a desired body-

not hers (the particular) but any-

that flipped the switch, dramatically,

from her naive Oh I’m Wanted

to the real He Thinks He Can Take Whatever He Wants,

and she wheels around, out of his greedy, cruel grip

leaps out the window onto a roofline she knows like a cat

and stops doubting her worth, while learning

to doubt his,

and smiles with bare feet hugging the tile crest

of a building she’s perfectly willing to leave, bearing

a trail of grief so light it brings only

a rush of relief.

Thirteen-step boogie

06 Tuesday Mar 2018

Posted by in abundance, adventure, beauty, break out, discomfort, Infinite, learning, movement, mystery, poems, poetry, release, wonder

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Having lost touch with the beauty of chaos

a fogged vision sewn of fear

and the iron-grip of hoped for control

eventually forces bursting rolls of laughter, or

sphincters tight enough to pop

(not so pretty- quick, turn toward the pansies planted to your left).

If remembrance of having a tail to shake breaks through,

that romp, leap, roar and thirteen-step boogie

will plunk soul back in wild order

and life’ll flow naturally once again.

Constellations on the ground

25 Thursday Jan 2018

Posted by in abundance, beauty, dark, honoring, nature, poems, poetry, receiving, weaving, welcoming, wonder

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Constellations on the ground,

stars underfoot,

snow falling in dark morning

on upturned face,

waiting hair, open palms.

Greeting a wide universe in winter-

its hush and hibernation beckoning on

hidden animals waiting

waiting

for a silent moment to show themselves

as weather weaves a way.