Hope

IMG_2586

Hope. acrylic and ink on watercolor paper, Lex Leonard

Sky opened to cede its tiny mandalas of ice blessing all below

Beet and cabbage paused, tomato and corn stilled

Is this the most remarkable thing you have ever seen

Laden morsels alight melting in summer’s heat
Most of them drying under sun’s guidance
intense in their purpose to bring relief
from season’s hymn

Vegetables sigh, give thanks, and resume

 

Author’s Note:

Our writing group was to bring a prompt, a line from a book.  I found this line from Tom Robbins’ Jitterbug Perfume the perfect one for me to use. It was not my prompt, but now I will read the book.

The beet is the most intense of vegetables.
from Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins

The time given to write was twenty minutes. I took the line and wrote it down the page. I then wrote my poem beginning each line with the word from the prompt. Of course, through editing, things get changed around a bit. moved around, deleted and refined. You can still see remnants of the prompt. Thank you, Tom Robbins, for the inspiration.

And my painting, Hope, sprung from the poem.

Mother Tree

Mother tree sings, not in Indigo Girls’ descant,
but Her hymn beneath rich loam reaches out
through roots, searches for fungi,
a give and take of carbon and nitrogen,
back and forth, fuels a network to ease one
another’s survival, feeds a diverse union so some
will be left standing when others cease.
A complex union of tree and decay, fertile
earth and music, this is Her root command.

He commanded us to love, not in law above,
commandments to bow down to,
but twined roots holding one another so close
breath unites us into Being, so close
we cannot be parted. And yet, if we
release, push through deep moist earth,
ken to others, share inspiration, reveal
our true selves, we become One.
Love is the root command.

Fusion, A New Year Hymn

The 7th Day of Christmas10885571_10204524793351781_5679912215840861996_n

Leave behind all that served,
a heart burst with love
used up, as it should be,
open and ready to be
filled once more

Stay voices that called out
to raise and crush,
for you are a new hymn,
the wren will defer to
your chickadee winter song,
a hint of Phoebe spring

Let hardened blows
cover in snow, leave them
forgotten, iced under where
hurt cannot escape, your muscled
spirit secure in constancy

Abandon vacant pods, hewn branches,
exhausted beds, carry with you only
wisdom gleaned, germination
unfolding a newborn empathy

All you were has crumbled
into earthly marl, open the gate,
no fear in choosing, for within you burns
a light for any passage, a light to
blaze a new you

A simple deviation
one foot in front of the other
through a yawning threshold
into unimaginable Being,
a fusion into One

.

.

.

Author’s Note:

Happy New Year!

And gratitude to all those who graced my past year and made it shine, especially Stefan Andre Waligur, Kathleen Gorman, Scott Jenkins, Marcy Baruch, Kathleen E. Moore, Steve Bross, Mary Lynn Greene, and Niki Kessinger, and of course, my boys, Leroy, Dad, and Bremen. Without you, my light would not shine and my heart would not be overflowing.