TRIUMPH OF SPIRIT IN LOVE, NATURE & ART

Poetry

The Secrets of Winter

DSCN3570_edited-3Sweet winter melancholy

assuages my soul

with its

bare branches 

reaching Godwards

and 

its subdued light

speaks of the Almighty

in silent whispers

that are drowned out by sunlight

and the mania of summer.


The Lone Fir Tree

A lone fir tree

stands stalwart in a forest of red

watching over the turtles sleeping peacefully

in their hibernaculum

in the icy pond

as God

watches over us

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A silent night of peace to each of you

and a berry, merry Christmas!

Love always,

Ellen

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Moonset

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The hush

of  predawn

in which

the moon

silently

surreptitiously

descends

into the black hole

of the tail end

of night

*

A similar moment

years ago

 in my arms

as she struggled to breathe

already half the battle

over

 one prick of the needle

 instantly limp

a hushed end

to a soulmate

our baby

*

Why can’t we

too

go this way

as softly as

a moon setting

in the whisper

of predawn

of a new day?


Fall Day One Microscape

A whisper

of the riot of color

to come…


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Life Eternal

On this sad day

13 years ago

unspeakable things happened

to uncountable thousands

we have gone on

aching for those lost

Let us affirm life today

and always

By going to the One within


Aching in the Moonlight

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It’s night
Alright
But a full moon
The super moon
Wakes me at 3
Like an alarm
I married a Wolfe
Perhaps I am to howl
But I love the silence
In which I can hear
The ear sounds
Of my nervous system
Like a sea shell
Held to the ear
Sounds the ocean
I hear the whoosh
Of blood flow
Through my migrainous head
The pain keeping me
On the depressive side of mania
For in the distance
Coyotes sing
Their haunting howl
Usually heralds mania in me
A serenade
On moonlit hills
An elemental thrill
Perhaps time for a pill
To send me into the oblivion
Of Morpheus
And lead me to pain free dreams
And relief from this marathon
Of blinding ague
Where only the moonlight
So soothing and gentle
Does not hurts my throbbing eyes

 


My Cathedral

The wilderness
is my cathedral
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The sky
my steeple
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 The trees
my buttresses
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Hay bales
my statuary
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 Flowers
my stained glass
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A babbling brook
my organ
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Frogs and toads
my choir
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Fields of wildflowers
my incense
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 Thunder storms
my high mass
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A very diverse congregation…

From cows

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to snails and turtles

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to gazillions
of insects

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Deer sometimes come round

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Butterflies abound

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Moths, too

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Birds of every hue

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All that’s missing is you

but you worship your own way

doing charity every day

more than I can say


A Universe of Patterns

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A tuning fork
when applied to sand
creates patterns
like those of snowflakes
crystals
water droplets
or larger patterns
of mountains
deserts
lakes
the surface of the moon
What patterns
does the sound of the mantra
create on
the canvas of our minds
in meditation

Nature’s Prayers

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Still yourself

and fold your hands

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humbly

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stand in awe

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radiate His light

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with eyes upwards

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towards

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the telephone

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to the sky

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and comtemplate

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the glory that is He


Starlight, Starbright

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Starlight through the skylight
Moonlight just above the roof
Fireflies flickering flames
Random to our eyes
In a dizzying mercurial display
Flitting to the tune
Of trilling frogs
And the flutter of batwings
I see goblins in the windows
Alone would be terrified
With you here beatified
By the beauty of the silence
Punctuated by the frogs
Spotlighted by the moon
And the sparkling stars
Whose dust makes up
These rented bodies we carry
While inside heartbeats
Tick away our lives
To the beat of a flashing firefly
Or a flickering star.


Chi flows, Wind Blows

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Wind blows

through tree tops

bird song

wafts in breeze

flying

dead branches

fine perches

dragonfly on leg

don’t move

admire

just be

like tree

see chi

in air

spark-like

specks

tiny lights

Chi flows

wind blows


Secret Spaces

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The cool of green shade

steps to a secret place

locked doors of a shed

the innocence of childhood lost

in a matter of minutes

and no one knew

for years and years and years

dare break the silence even now

Grandpa did a naughty

and it remained

forgotten for years

until you shared your story

of what happened to you

there were other times

of lesser evil

but sketched in memory

enough to sting

even now

so many decades later

I have forgiven

but no longer forgotten

from so early in life

I adored him

the trust

etched deep wounds

though the misdemeanors minor

by most standards

just enough to give pause

if I see a secret place

all too inviting

for the sins

of

a forbidden intimacy

just enough to

add guilt and shame and fear

where they do not belong

inside me

in stillness

in the shade


Bolt of Blue

Violet mood

 blue grace

soothes the beast


Humble Lily

 

After the crash

from

mania

to

depression…

humility

shame

gratitude

grace


Rapid Cycling

Patterns of the microcosm
echoed in the macrocosm
vibrating thoughts
no meditation
lots of frustration
can’t calm down
do the Hong Sau
Yogananda method
the only hope
in this mind
doing 120 mph
in a 35 mph zone

 

time soon for sleep
frogs singing
a pre-dawn high
drained at noon
rapid cycling
twilight now
back to racing
raving
raging mind
need gentility
humility
quietude
to feel awe
to ponder
hit “Pause”

love in the afternoon
a natural anti-
depressant
sent sight soaring
in space
seeing patterns
everywhere
echoing symphonically
in noisy ears
the hum of quiet
seems too loud
flashing lights
status migrainous
with all over
crawling feeling
“not-theres”

stop I say
stop I pray
stop the way
the world spins
hurling in space
the race
the pace
exhaustion
please
take this body
in your arms
work your charms
on this alarm-
ing state
with alacrity
the paucity
of peace
needs mending

Oh evening
send hope
for ending
these frantic antics
quell the panic
break the day
and bring on
the dawn
of dreams


The Reign of Pain

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Tears,years, fears, pain, pane, rain, car, far, are you there, somewhere?

I can’t hear you.  I can’t see you.  I can’t feel you.  Any more.

Why did you have to die?  Why did you have to go?

Your kids bleed for you, you know.

Your wife aches for you, you know.

I pine for you, you know.

Your absence is our has been.

Attachment our sin.

And in this reign

of pain we fail

we ail

each in our own ways.

It may be a thin veil

 that divides our souls but

why then does it feel like an iron curtain

 creating the great divide

between our being and your nothingness?

(Written for the three year anniversary of my brother’s death.)


Confessions of a Distant Peeping Tom

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A child guard, a tied curtain…

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A single mystery…

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Multiple mysteries…

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Eeeerie figures…

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Pink curtains (one pair knotted), flower pots, fans and pizza boxes…

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A sense of history…

*

I always wonder

feel the drama

of

worlds behind windows

and

wish I could

peep into other people’s lives

not just from curiosity

but

in some effort

to figure out my own.


Overloaded Circuits

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On circuit overload

can’t turn off the current

despite parallel despair

know a fuse will blow

but can do little to stop the flow

mania and depression

together = paranoia

 


New Life, Old Love

 

 

Tree skeletons

acquire accoutrements

each passing day

pale green regalia

not the deep green

of Summer when the

change in color

is so gradual

as to be imperceptible

nor the fleeting riot

of color of Fall

no, in Spring,

ephemeral  evanescent

slight light green

appears by the moment

right before my slow eyes

as I discern

shadows in the woods

a flash of white tail

deer fleet of foot

fly through the brush

dancing to the deep trill

of the wood frogs and

the echoing, haunted cries

of pileated woodpeckers

in the sudden density

of the fast-growing woods

inside the booming forest

whilst where I sit

at the edge of wood

bumble bees hum

and magically lift off

the teaming ground

and fly to the sky

where birds sing to mates

sweet songs of desire

in a crescendo of new life

as you have sung to me

for nearly thirty years

in an ever-changing

ever-growing love

whilst a breeze caresses

a newborn leaf

that tingles to its touch

as I thrill so very much

to the searching clasp

of your hand in mine

(As yet another killer, this time on the campus of Santa Barbara, California,  is identified as possibly having Asperger’s syndrome, I, as a Bipolar Aspie, offer this poem written to my Aspie husband for May 14, 2014, on the occasion of our 25th wedding anniversary, to show that not all people with Asperger’s reach for a gun and are violent.)


Where Earth Meets Sky

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Oh Light,

so dazzled am I

by your majesty

so inebriated

by your heady spirits

I cannot tell

where earth meets

the realm of Your Infinity.


The Vibrations of Life

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Pulsating life

flows through

tree branches

vibrating

to the song

of a red-winged blackbird

singing to the moon

as a cloud

stands by

in the approach

of twilight


The Hum of Life

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The reverberations of love

jump across time and space

to another receptive heart

*

The reverberations of suffering

resound around the earth

picked up by open souls in prayer

*

The reverberations of Aum

most sacred of sounds

pulses through our minds in meditation

*

Love brings the possibility of loss

Suffering brings a totality of pain

Aum brings the reality of God within


Alone Together


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You stand before me

in total vulnerability

openness spread across your face

how can I resist

I am powerless

before such love

before your open heart

and yet you have to go

live life in your world

after all

though we share so much

we remain alone

 we make love,

or not,

no matter

 our foundation

is deep and strong

how can it be that

our two bodies

though sometimes

joined in union

remain separate

paradoxically

keeping us apart

how can it be that

our bodies

will break my heart

in the end

for we will die

alone

how can it be that

our bodies

vessels of union

will keep us apart

that one day two hearts

that beat as one

will leave this bodily union

alone

Death cannot sever

our binding bond

though it rips us

asunder

(Dedicated to Thomas, my husband of almost 25 years, with all I have to give)


Denizens of the Deep

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The marsh is melting

and

all the turtles in their hibernacula

deep down under the melting ice

will soon emerge

and the marsh will sing

the chorus of the Spring Peeper

and the salamanders will emerge

with the urge to murge

and joy and the life force

will fill the air

and lift the fog

enveloping my soul.

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