It's time for some poetry
With all the heated debate regarding Jeff's initiatives... I thought it'd be a good time for some poetry from yours truly. (These aren't political in any way unless you want to start a dialogue about the politics of the body, gender, parenting, etc...) Thanks for indulging me and please do send comments.
Making room for new bloom
She once told me about living here:
It is your spiritual fate
And so I step out wild awake and free
Pick up fresh fenugreek, steep tea
Keep hauling the dead cane away
in order to heal
that which has not yet been healed
through wires and wireless
we stay connected even though
he is in tomorrow
baby thinks this so cool and giggles
giggles we float a boat
down the gutter river
clear plastic bottle, orange poppy inside
A roundness to ritual
Thirsty babe and now, a sore throat
After last night's wind
After sleeping with an open window
blankets pulled up
Careful not to cover her
Morning ritual: quiet and still
Even if only for ten minutes
Even if only in bed my horizontal lotus
Tonight's ritual had me
Sandwiched between my two sleeping babies
She, nursing on one side
And he cuddled against the other
big mama wing covering him
Parent mind
Here I am trying
To prepare a swift break
and noble silence
Everyone else keeps getting
Pregnant parent mind or
Evil-eye propels me opening
Learn to identify your Greek
Gods your vegetables your own
Genius an ongoing search
For skin now that the nipple has been
Put away my os is forever changed
Smiling roll on to me
One thousand paper cranes
Flung over the limb of a tree
Give the moon
Give the moon I said
Pulling myself from a place
Little, small and tasty
negotiating this restricted
area
Bright light flip flop insides
When I left the world
that day
Baby with a mustache cried
peel it back
to reveal the seed
It’s time to
lunge and let
Mandalas be rife with meaning
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Comments (3)
Leslie,
Thanks for the refreshing break in the heavy politics, which should serve poetry, and the living poetry of families like yours.
Comment #1 Posted by: Dennis Leary | October 7, 2006 08:41 AM
I attend a writer's group at Little House on Thursdays at 10 AM, much of which is poetry. I'd like to share here what I have been sharing there. This poem is from my book, LOVER, based on 52 cards; this card is #41, corresponding to the 41st week of the year, the 6th card in the suit of Light. It is the card, Purple, with the polarities of Flower and Tower. Anyway, thanks for opening this thread of opportunity.
PURPLE
Purple is a color like no other
The color of my rich royal Lover
She lives in the suit of Light
Right next to crystal white
The clear color on the level above her
She wears a Purple veil
In the dance of the great romance
She's a Purple Krishna
Glancing in her dancing
I catch her Purple flashes
Sparkling through her lashes
On my inner skies with reborn eyes
I see her Purple swirling galaxies
And Purple mountain majesties
When I cower in an hour gone sour
Purple's a Tower of power
Her Tower is no fable
Like the Tower of Babel
Her Purple Tower
Is no London Tower prison
Or ivory Tower schism
It's a prism of clear vision
Purple's a friend in high places
With down to earth graces
Let the lords have their Tower
I'll take my lady's Flower
They can have their power
I'll rest in her bower
She whispers, I love you
The passwords to her bliss
Sweet preludes to her kiss
I need no more than this
Her hair is the soft air
Her feet the bottomless deep
She is everywhere and never asleep
Purple is my dearest power In life's darkest hour
She's next to the color black
Been to the Cor and back
Keeps me on Love's track
She wears a Purple robe
The sign of being rich
She's rich all right
Rich in Purple light
Purple is a guardian at the gate
A pure angel worth an eon's wait
Purple is a light and dark goddess
Here to guard us
I'm living in her house, living like a king
Living in the Purple, living with her ring
Purple Flower,
Bring me out of my ivory Tower
To play on Mother Earth
The one who gave me birth
Purple Flower, now's your hour
Wind your arms
Around my Tower of stones
Lay your flowers on my dust dry bones
Soften my Tower of steel
Open my heart and make me real
Purple Flower
I climb your vine and drink your wine
Purple Tower
I seize your hour and seat of power
Be protectress when I roam
And sweet mistress when at home
Comment #2 Posted by: Dennis Leary | October 10, 2006 07:54 AM
Thanks for sharing these, Leslie. I love the imagery, especially the poppy in the bottle in the gutter, and the covering mamma wing. Thanks also for introducing yourself the other day. Great to meet you!
Comment #3 Posted by: Robert | December 15, 2006 07:37 AM