Friday, August 17, 2018

Because It Is My Heart

Wolf Woman collage
created by Ella of Ella's Edge

I selected what went in with great care:
wolf howls and a shaman 
with wise kind eyes;
a big black wolf whose eyes 
and memory
never leave me; hope and love 
and trust in the divine,
waves rolling endlessly 
onto sandy beaches,
and an old-growth forest, 
breathing peace;
music and puppy paws, wagging tails 
and doggy smiles,
lions and elephants, whalesong 
and birds on the wing.
I packed them all in together, 
leaving nothing out,
because it is everything I love, 
and because it is my heart.

One from 2016, to share with the Poetry Pantry at Poets United, where we have great reading every Sunday morning. Come join us!

Thursday, August 16, 2018

Of Pearls and Barnacles

Wild Woman would like
to pen you a poem
as lovely as a 
perfect polished pearl.

Please accept 
this crusty barnacle 
Wild Woman had a late night
and has misplaced
her head.

for Kerry's prompt at Real Toads: A Poem Lovely As - the best I can do today, lol, hoping to make you smile.

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

Is This Land My Land? Is This Land Your Land?


swastikas waving
in American cities
worst nightmare come true


the Oval Office -
rich white men grin with dead eyes
White House aptly named


democracy means
flag, votes, rights, justice for all ~
where has it gone?


a 5-5-7:

red maple leaf flies
our bright hopes and dreams -
right-wing rising in the east

for Susan's prompt at Midweek Motif: National Flags. Title taken from the famous song.

Tuesday, August 14, 2018

And Now for the Good News

I have always been a positive, optimistic person, sometimes annoyingly so, to people with a more jaundiced view of life. I always believed the transformation of consciousness would occur in time. We have all the information, have had it for fifty years. The governments that are supposed to legislate the tough steps we need to take to address climate change have not done so. Had Al Gore been elected, when the Presidency was wrested from him, we would be in a much better place today.

I will admit, this past year, with everything seemingly going to hell - when I have been living my worst nightmare in terms of "leadership" on this continent - I have known true discouragement, felt helpless, begun to believe that there is no stopping us from destroying the earth and ourselves, especially as those in power want to hang onto that power, and do the bidding of the multinationals who have a death-grip on the planet's limited and vanishing resources.

And corporations don't care.

But one friend, an environmental activist, tells me my poems just add to the trauma. And another, who has spent her life working for clean energy, urges me to hold the vision of the world I want to see, put that out into the world - add the hopes, the dreams, the vision, instead of adding to the darkness and despair.

Point taken.

My friend who advises me to hold the vision also believes we will not change incrementally - and in fact we dont have TIME to change that slowly - that the transformation of consciousness will come suddenly, because of an event, possibly a cataclysmic one. She also reminds me there is a spiritual component to the struggle on this planet, and that the more of us who hold the vision, in the light, counteract the darker forces who right now seem to be in ascendance, but who are most likely far outnumbered by people who want to see peace and justice - this world, the way it was meant to be - and could be still, impossible as that feels right now.

I think we are seeing very clearly, now, that the planet is in trouble. Starving orcas, raging wildfires, floods, famines - we already have climate refugees and their numbers will grow. We might very well be among them. This isnt happening at some comfortable date in the future. It is happening right now.

So what is the good news? Many people and countries ARE addressing climate change, just not stubborn, stuck-in-capitalism North America - clinging to the system that is bringing us all to our knees.

We can help Mother Earth if we switch from fossil fuels to clean energy: wind, water, solar, zero point. (Zero point energy uses a magnetic field to harness the energy found in a vacuum and send it to a generator.)

In India, they are making roads of recycled plastic. Britain is testing this possibility. The Netherlands are testing road building from recycled ocean waste. Future roads could be made from plastic bottles - the bottles that are littering landfills everywhere. (And that should be abolished, along with plastic bags.)

A teenager has invented a way to clean the Garbage Patch in the ocean - his system using floaters is predicted to harvest half the patch in five years. (

In Beijing, SOLDIERS ARE PLANTING BILLIONS OF TREES to counter air pollution. A wonderful use of military resources.

In Germany, all cars are mandated to be electric by 2030.

In California, all new roofs must be solar.

One easy and effective way to lower CO2 emissions is to switch to a plant-based diet. Not only will emissions be reduced, but animals will not live lives of terror, pain and desperation while they wait to arrive on our dinner plates.

Those conversations helped me regain some hopefulness, feel more empowered, less helpless. The climate events on the way may be what it takes to push us into unified action. It is too bad we are reacting to  crises, rather than being pro-active, but we humans learn slowly, much slower than the whales and other wild creatures already experiencing distress.

I hope some of this news is encouraging to you. It feels good to know people like you and I are working hard to do what they can where they are. We live in hope. We need it, as we have grandchildren who want and need to live in a viable world.

Saturday, August 11, 2018

Life's Golden Beauty, All I Know

I try to hold the flickering flame
fast faltering my eyes before,
to clasp it for some moments more,
its magic mine to keep and tame.
It flickers out, no one to blame.

I try to slow the speeding days,
delay them as they canter past.
I want them to forever last;
they rush towards sunset's golden haze,
extinguish in a fiery blaze.

One does not ask the question "Why?"
We live our lives, hoping the end
will answer like a loving friend.
Our choices, as the days go by,
have cast our fate. We live. We die.

Sunset too close, lit by its glow,
I want this life to never end,
as day by day my last ones spend,
bedazzled by its fiery show ~
life's golden beauty, all I know.

One from 2015, shared with the Poetry Pantry at Poets United. Come join us Sunday morning!

Wednesday, August 8, 2018

The Child's Sorrow

Horses were turned loose in the child's sorrow.*
They galloped through deep purple 
midnight hours,
whinnying, rearing up on their hind legs,
the noise loud and terrifying, 
a cacophony of fear and adrenalin, 
until she leaped on 
a huge white back,
galloping into oblivion,
a wild midnight ride
come to save her
that she would remember 

Wolves howled in the forest
on that night, 
as she sailed her winged  steed
out of the house of alcohol,
away from the screams, the blows
and crashes,
into the starry sky,
where wizards with kind eyes 
in a magical land,
secret gardens offering soft moss 
for her to rest upon,
with grass for the white horse to eat.

When dawn came, she and the horse
exchanged glances.
They did not want to go back
into the cruel, fighting world
they had left.
Reluctantly, she mounted.
With slowed hooves, 
so sadly,
the mare carried her back 
to her little bed.

When she woke, 
she swallowed her sorrow,
putting on the timid, placating face 
she wore for the adults. 
They all acted as if
the nightime violence
never happened. 
They all pretended
there was no need
for those blazing 
midnight rides. 

Horses were turned loose
in the child's sorrow,
and she rode. 
She rode.
She rode.

* This was the first line of Carolyn Forche's poem, "Sequestered writing" from Blue Hour (NY Harper Collins 2003), used as the first line in Maureen Hynes' poem, "The Horses, the Sorrow, the Umbilicus", The Malahat Review (April 2018).

for my prompt at Real Toads: Piggyback Poems. Take the first line of a poem, giving accreditation to the author, and make it the first line of your poem.

Maureen Hynes' poem can be read there.

A Poem

A poem is like
a puppy
that comes up
wagging its tail.
It sniffs all around,
interested and happy,
deciding which way
it will go......
and then it grows.

For Sumana's prompt at Midweek Motif: a poem