Saturday, October 30, 2021
Friday, October 29, 2021
Pass me the stir-spoon, Sister, quick!
This stew's getting a little thick.
Push down the devil's claw. Mix in some thyme.
The brew must be ready by dinner-time.
A pinch of this and a pinch of that,
and don't forget to spell the Cat.
Owl sits in the corner with beady eye.
Toss him a mouse as you go by.
While it is brewing we'll sip on some gin,
and call the witches-in-training in.
Thrice round the cauldron, add some eye of newt,
and mind how you circle, or you'll tread on my boot.
Toss in two warty toads and the leg of a frog.
Let's fly round the meadow, skinny-dip in the bog,
count all our warts, multiply by two,
and I will teach a new spell to you.
To draw love, catnip, valerian for sleep.
Drop a marigold bloom in your tea; let it steep.
Calamus root and the knuckle of a frog.
We'll sing in the kitchen and dance with the dog.
Come out, my pretties, to the meadow in the hollow.
Skinny witches first, and the fat ones follow.
We will chant incantations,
swoop around on our brooms,
and watch that black cloud cover the moon.
Snakes go hiss and flames they crackle.
Potions bubble and pop to the witches' cackle.
Ready your brooms; we'll be flying soon.
An old one, written for Real Toads some years ago. Brendan asked for something Halloweeny at earthweal's open link.
Thursday, October 28, 2021
I hope when it happens
I will have finished all the books
I still want to write, will have shared
what I want to share.
I hope my people will read them,
and say, "We thought we knew her,
but there was a large part of her
we didn't know, and didn't understand -
that part of her that other poets knew,
because they read the words from her heart.
I wanted to make something pretty
of my life, but with the ups and downs,
the lumps and bumps, I made
something interesting instead.
I took those things and polished them up,
put them into my poems and books,
left out most of what was black and traumatic
and full of loss. Instead, I remembered
all I was given, how I was helped
and guided, and the people who loved me
till I was better able to love myself.
I hope when it happens,
there will be time to say
all the "I love yous",
look into the eyes of those
I am leaving, say "thank you"
and "Be happy. Laugh lots."
I hope when it happens,
that it will be peaceful,
a soft tide slipping gently
away from the shore.
Inspired by the poem "I Hope When It Happens" by Diane Seuss. The italicized lines are hers. A prompt from Wild Writing with Laurie Wagner.
Monday, October 25, 2021
just for you.
- for Pup
Dog of Joy
At earthweal we are contemplating Samhain, the time of year when spirits walk among us. The morning after Pup died, right when they would have been cremating him, I felt his snout on the edge of my bed, the way he woke me every morning - and that one last time.
Sunday, October 24, 2021
while the wildfires burn -
or incomparably dumb.
our hearts away.
for The Sunday Muse
Thursday, October 21, 2021
I never cried for my father.
When he died, the summer
I was fourteen, I felt sad
for my mother, whose heart
was broken. But I felt relief
that the drinking to blackout
and the violence had stopped.
I had closed him out,
that last year; we had
unfinished business, so
I was not much surprised
when I saw his ghost
smiling at me from behind
the lunch counter at Capri,
perhaps a smile to say
he had loved me
and wished me well.
He was a brilliant musician
who raged that those
with less talent passed him by.
He hated rock and roll.
I never cried for my father
at his funeral. But I cry
for him now. He gifted me
music and humour and song
that has lasted my whole life long.
And I never said thank you
when he came to tell me
Monday, October 18, 2021
of her tribe were starving.
"The lowly skunk cabbage,
the medicine man said,
weaving and circling
grateful for the miracle
for Brendan at earthweal where we are contemplating Biodiversity. Tofino is a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve, so I live in an area where we are very aware of how everything in the environment impacts every other. Also, the Nuu chah nulth people of this land share stories of their teachings, how everything is connected, so what happens to one, happens to us all. The elders are telling us big (and severe) changes are coming which will impact us greatly. They don't say much, but their eyes are worried.
Saturday, October 16, 2021
for Shay at The Sunday Muse
no safe place.
I saw Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds launch and couldnt help but wonder at the expense when, here on earth, governments deem addressing the climate crisis to be "too expensive." Sigh. It's a mad, mad world. Makes no sense.
in the corners of clouds,
in the wisp of a dream,
under the bed in tubs
of old photographs.
in birdsong at daybreak,
in thick moss on old trees,
in a basket of fruit and the smile
of the one who receives it.
in laughing doggy eyes,
in a baby's smile,
in the stories of an old man
sitting on a bench,
as the world rushes by.
in the rush of a river in autumn,
in the red and orange leaves,
in the moment when the sky clears
after rain, and the world turns
green and blue again.
Inspired by Wild Writing and the two words "Poems Hide".
Friday, October 15, 2021
It is nearly one year since we were
forced to enter empty time .
The clock slowed; our days
drifted into each other
like floating logs at the edge of the sea,
but more gently, the hours sifting past
like large frigates, turning into days,
into weeks, the rhythm of our days
reduced to cups of tea and the occasional
making of meals, or To Do lists,
easily abandoned when a book
or a movie beckoned, because suddenly,
there was time, even for those of us
who are approaching its end.
We think back to all the small miracles
we rushed through, not realizing
they were miracles, so soon over:
poetry readings, gathering together,
taking trips, going to the theatre.
These days, we become more aware
of all the miracles that remain:
sunrise, sunset, cloud formations,
blue sky, the eternal waves breaking
upon the shore, its eternal roar,
and seabirds wheeling free
over shining waters.
Our hearts are so heavy with unshed tears,
yet with gratitude, too, for the joy and pain
of the journey made, the price we paid,
the times that will never come again.
We have slowed our pace, empty time
filling with memory, with the long,
glorious remembering, as we sit
by the window watching the sky change.
Just breathe, and listen.
Listen, and breathe.
The clock tick-tocks; the light
lifts and sifts and turns to dusk.
With quiet hearts, we drift,
we dream, we dream
a cosmic dancer, endlessly twirling,
a small Sufi, swirling,
in the inner chambers
of our hearts.
Inspired by The Cosmic Dancer by John O'Donahue. The italicized lines are his.
Thursday, October 14, 2021
by Christine Lowther
Tuesday, October 12, 2021
The other-world is as near
as closing your eyes.
We sat, that Easter morning,
at dawn, on the slopes
of Knox Mountain,
eyes shut, meditating on peace
for a world galloping off
in the wrong direction.
But the moment of Now
is always exactly right,
when we seek beauty and truth
and our hearts sit gratefully
in our chests.
Eyes wide shut, I lifted
off and up. Looking down
on a planet blue and green,
I saw beams of light
shooting up - prayers
from other peaceful folk
across the globe.
On the far slopes, somewhere
above and behind, I heard
voices singing, angelic,
when we opened our eyes,
none of the others could hear.
A moment of rising,
like the morning sun,
clarity, sweet and clear,
I open my eyes on a world
transformed and glistening,
that had never felt more dear.
for earthweal where we are contemplating enchantment. It is hard to hold onto enchantment during climate breakdown, yet what is life without beauty? Maybe now more than ever, humanity needs to fall in love with Mother Earth. Because what we love, we take care of.
Saturday, October 9, 2021
Collateral beauty is...
sitting in a crowd in the rain,
no one leaving, as our indigenous neighbours
tell us how it was for them when they were small,
and invite us to stand with them as allies
working towards a more just world.
Collateral beauty is...
when your heart is troubled,
so you go to the shore, and let
the waves, rolling in and out
in their eternal song, wash through
your brain, your heart, your being,
till you are as calm as the lull
between waves, as strong as
the sand dollar, that creates its home
from the sand and grit around it,
and carries it within.
Collateral beauty is...
meeting the eyes and smiles
of a people who have suffered much,
who know that you see them.
It is sitting in a crowd of villagers
in orange t-shirts in the rain, on the
Day of Truth and Reconciliation,
and opening our ears and hearts
to hear the pain and truth from which
we do not turn away.
It is seeing all the dark and light of human history
- and herstory - and noting, woven through it,
all the golden strands of beauty put there
by humans delving deep and reaching out,
and by Mother Earth, effusively painting the sky
for our delight, by learning to truly see
that everything is one. Even us. Even we.
I penned this for my prompt at earthweal: Collateral Beauty. Defined in the movie of that name as the moments of awe and wonder when we feel our connection to everything.
On Canada's first national day of Truth and Reconciliation, where was our prime minister? NOT attending any event across Canada, not at Kamloops where over 200 unmarked graves of children were found on the grounds of a residential school, where he had been invited to participate. He was on the beach here in Tofino, enjoying family time with his family........eight minutes away from our own march and gathering on the village green to solemnly mark the significance of this day. It was a serious misstep on his part. His words that no relationship was more significant to Canada than that with indigenous people were smooth - he is famous for that - but were revealed as empty - no follow through. His pattern.
I sat in the rain all that morning on the village green listening to the heartfelt stories of residential school survivors from the Christie school here outside Tofino. It later operated as a healing centre named Kakawis for First Nations families to deal with their pain. I was privileged to work in that place of healing for eight and a half years.
I was outraged by Trudeau's behaviour, on a day that should be spent as respectfully as November 11th. Can you imagine if he went on holiday then? There is no difference. He could have gone on holiday next day - or showed up at our gathering, at the very least.
Monday, October 4, 2021
Sunday, October 3, 2021
for the Sunday Muse. LOL.