I am thankful for…

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My feet
to step on Mother Earth
connecting me to her
and all that grows beneath
and rises above to meet the breath of day.

My lungs to breathe in Life.
My eyes to watch Moon
cycle in remembrance of
my fragility and fiercness.

My skin
to touch the Sun’s warmth in my heart
and know his fire burn to ash
when I must begin anew.

My nose to smell lilac and rose, pine and rain, and doggie breath.
My ears to hear crow and whispered wind, roaring waves,
and
the deep stillness of You within.

Lips and arms to hug and kiss you…
my love, my Bean, my dear sweet friends,
the children of this Earth,
each and every one of you.

You.

…..

Happy day of gratitude and joy.

May compassion be the way for this day
with gentleness and love for all – even the hard ones.

Munay. Aho. Amen.

Lexanne

Tarry

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Once I lived with old grown trees,
arms bent to their years,
crooked under time’s long breath.

Cattails at attention.

Rushing stream after storm
pushing over, pushing round rocks
where gentle purple thistle rise
on prickled backbone.

There I lived in must of
leaves of seasons past.

I stayed
with moon who
arched and hid with sun
in reverie chased.

Equilibrium

 

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Author’s Note:

To my lovely followers I must apologize. I want to let you know why I haven’t posted in quite a while. I’ve been busy on this project.

Another apology. This post is loooooong. However, if you have the time, I would love for you to stick with it….

After two months of writing every day – Poetry Postcard Month and National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo) – I finally feel comfortable sitting down and writing every day. As a matter of fact, I miss it when it doesn’t work out. I even get a bit grumpy. Not that all the work is good. That’s not the point. I am finding that the more I put down, the more I see. And that is good.

To continue to challenge myself, I am taking a class called Play It Forward sponsored by Tweetspeak Poetry. It is a twelve-week course to help shake me up a bit. I’ve been looking for new inspiration lately. I feel I’ve gotten too serious, or am on the edge of the nefarious “writer’s block.” And I thought this would plunge me into a deep cool pool where I can splash and play and see through some new lenses.

I was right about new lenses. We do play, but the work is deep.

We have weekly themes and an array of resources to experience. Also, taking an “Artist’s Date” weekly as described in Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way is mandatory. This playtime has proven to be rich and fun.

A few weeks ago, our theme was “extremes” and after an Artist’s Date to the Denver Art Museum, I began this project. I plunged into the extreme of the Moon and her cycles – it was a full moon when I started – and my relationship to Spirit. I soon hope to have an Artist’s Statement to accompany the piece.

It combines my photography with my poetry, quotes and definitions. It combines science with Spirit and art. It is done in pencil, ink, and images are manipulated in PicMonkey. It is on recycled drawing paper sized 18’x24′. Framing TBD. I know what I want, but it is a bit larger than when I started out and I need to adjust.

It’s hard to explore the words from the photo. So I below are the images which my poetry encircles, and the definitions, quotes, and labels.

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Equilibrium

apogee/1

There are birds
at four thirty am
and I am beckoned
from my
deep colorless
silence
to join
in their raucous
anointing of
dawn.

apogee/2

Nil,
void. I
begin there and
I hear you.
From nothing, a
beat, infinite pulse,
our indissoluble
song.

equilibrium/3

In balance
I step hoop’s thin path
like a circus act
where there is no net
only balance
around I spiral
from center
to eternity
our parity

perigee/4

Coming near
closer with all I am
all I own
in the aloneness of being
in the amplitude of that
which enclaves me
I find you
where you’ve
always been
not out
but within

perigee/5

and we dance
to the rhythm
that hums and
chants our constancy
evergreen

 

Yahweh/YHWH
Breath of Life
When we are born,
YH, our first breath.
When we die,
WH, our final release.

 

Definitions

 plural noun: foci

  1. the center of interest or activity.
  2. the state or quality of having or producing clear visual definition.
  3. one of the fixed points from which the distances to any point of a given curve, such as an ellipse or parabola, are connected by a linear relation.

An apsis is an extreme point in an object’s orbit.

An equilibrium point is a constant solution to a differential equation.

A differential equation is a mathematical equation that relates some function with its derivatives. In application, the functions usually represent physical quantities, the derivatives represent their rates of change, and the equation defines a relationship between the two.

For any satellite of Earth including the Moon the point of least distance is the perigee and greatest distance the apogee.

-gee Origin of the word: Gaia

Equilibrium, mental or emotional balance; equanimity

apsides, either of two points in an eccentric orbit, one farthest from the center of attraction, the other nearest to the center of attraction.

Quotes

They live in wisdom
Who see themselves in all and all in them,
Whose love for Spirit has consumed
Every selfish desire and sense craving
Tormenting the heart…
When you move amidst the world of sense
From both attachment and aversion freed,
There comes the peace in which all sorrows end.
And you live in the wisdom of Self…
The Bhagavad Gita

“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. 
And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost. 
The world will not have it.”
Martha Graham

We each have a tone or note that combines with the notes and tones of the rest of life to create a universal song.
Sandra Ingerman

When we surrender the need to figure it all out and cultivate the ability to let it all in, then our Earth walk becomes a sacred dance of healing service on the planet. More than the world needs saving, it needs loving.
don Oscar Miro-Quesada

Labels
foci
Earth
Moon
apogee
perigee

 

Again

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Day Thirty, the End

 

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I call it big water, the ocean.

It was a year ago today I walked
near crow picking out his mussel lunch
along the bight. Sand and shell
placed gingerly inside my empty coffee cup,
my way to keep a part of him,
remember he was gone.

I discover in loss
the hole, like that black round
left by moon in night when she is new,
cannot return to full as we once were.
Hollowness must replenish slowly,
in new ways, just as moon waxes crescent.

. . .

A sand-hued box tied with gossamer ribbon,
color of the growing gibbous moon.
Inside a woman sings,
Mother River, running her
song, flowing to ocean,
reminds me of my
connection here to there,
big water.

. . .

She hands me a calcite globe,
heavy, creamy yellow
as if full of moon light.
A memory stone to place inside
the blackened cavity,
to remember, to hold
in comfort, to illumine
when all seems lost.

. . .

Today I stand under
waning moon, attempt
to grasp, hear again his laughter,
catch his smile flash where sadness rested.

. . .

Our loop around that hot
bright ball tempered with
night and glowing light
that comes and goes
and returns again,
the river that runs to
kiss ocean tide and flow
to sea once more,
a broken heart mended scarred,
a refitted life begins anew,
all the rhythm of our dance.

 

Author’s Note:

To C.J. and Michael and Lisa

When I Am

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Day Twenty-four

 

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“When I am nineteen
I want to make a star.”
Sit in a redwood way up high
on eggs to hatch and
follow Blue wolf deep into forest,
fear running the opposite direction.

When I am forty-four
I want to sing an opera with coyote
ringed by sage and arroyos.
Dance flamenco at midnight on Madrid’s
cardinal peak under star breath.
And play my ukulele in summer pastures
by the Chukchi River, shepherded
by camels and shaman.

When I am ninety-seven
I will throw a silver line up to the moon
and tether her earthward.
I will rest in her curve perfectly held.
She will bear me to her quarters
and with a gentle nudge I will fly
forevermore.

When I am me,
now and forever, that’s how
it will be.

 

 

Author’s Note:

Prompt for today from NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“Last but not least, our (optional) daily prompt. Today, I challenge you to write a poem of ekphrasis — that is, a poem inspired by a work of art. But I’d also like to challenge you to base your poem on a very particular kind of art – the marginalia of medieval manuscripts. Here you’ll find some characteristic images of rabbits hunting wolves, people sitting on nests of eggs, dogs studiously reading books, and birds wearing snail shells. What can I say? It must have gotten quite boring copying out manuscripts all day, so the monks made their own fun. Hopefully, the detritus of their daydreams will inspire you as well!”

Special thanks to 7-year-old Romanieo Golphin Jr. who, “When I am nineteen, I want to make a star.”

Family

Day 15: Peace Poetry Postcard Month

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You can spot them easily, though
you may not know them well

asteraceae
fabaceae
apiaceae
orchidaceae
liliaceae

Family who show each
lineation in bounteous ways

Those who look like sun

Or weedy ones fixing
nitrogen for others

Ones who grow underground
and hoist their umbrellas
to announce their arrival

While some are more cultivated, showy

Or the peaceful ones

All important, all beloved

Family, each requiring
sun and water
moon and air

Like us, kindred
in this wondrous sphere
we call home

Simply…

 

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You are ordained by your creation
from our Holy Singularity,
cosmos infused with
each microscopic particle,
each microscopic particle
of You that is part of me
and you and you and you
and every…thing

Under sun’s brilliant rays,
heat warms, gives life,
we burn with passion

By moon’s radiant glow
we rest, we must rest without
fully knowing, releasing to all

With song of owl, wisdom
fills our empty space as
each sorrow is liberated

Along wolf’s path
patience learned,
faith in oneself
and strength in pack

On our bellies slide with
snake closest to Earth,
bendable, lithe to protuberance

Abreast of fox who plays in grasses
yet hears, knows one must be
aware of that which no longer serves

Crow glistens black
against crystalline blue,
we honor, hold one another deeply,
mourn our losses, never forget

Flowing with water
we make our way
silver threads encircle
Earth with life

Stand with preeminent tree,
together roots dig
into Earth entwined

And gaze above,
see our infinite selves,
stars, galaxies boundless,
yet bound to one another

We are ordained, simply by our Creation.

.

.

.

Author’s Note:

Full Moon blessings.

Munay,

Lexanne