Zen Beach

My Wickaninnish Waves

Wave upon wave,

rolling in to shore,

wipes my mind clean.

***

Heart lifts in joy,

adjusts its rhythm

to the song of the sea.

***

Head in the sky,

feet on the earth :

at one with it all.

Radar Hill at sunset

At Real Toads this morning, A Word With Laurie offers us the word: Zen, and asks the question: how do you achieve peace? Definitely my cup of tea, and make mine Oolong, please.

Wolf Women

Wolf Woman by artist Carole Bourdo - Ma-Ew-Yakee-

as found at the website www.manataka.org

Ella's prompt at Poets United's Wonder Wednesday is : the Wolf, and how he or she "leads us to the whispers of the wild." Definitely a prompt right up my alley!

Wild Woman carries

the heart of a wolf in her chest.

Its rhythm pulses in time with

her wild sister, who runs,

wraith-like,

through the forest,

stopping under a midnight moon

only long enough

to tip back her head

and howl.

Her true being

only comes alive

within sight and smell

of the sea:

the hackles rise

along her spine,

as she raises her nose

to scent the wind,

determining her direction

by the keening call of the wild.

Wild Woman

belongs to each of us,

and to us all.

She lives in the space

between heartbeats,

and in the thoughts

between words.

Listen for her knowing voice

at your right ear,

whispering: 

"Come, this is the way."

Then follow,
with perfect trust,

for no one knows

better or truer

than the Wild Woman 

Watcher Within.

Wild Woman

moves through

worlds seen and unseen,

emerging at daybreak

to slake her thirst

at the River of Solitude.

At the close of day,

the forest rolls out

a soft carpet

to form her bed.

In between,

you may follow her

when she is Wilding,

but not too close.

Be respectful of her space

and her growl.

And when she shape-shifts

out of sight,

look down quickly -

you may just see

the pawprint

she has left behind.

Wild Woman is the one

that we run from

when we are young

and run home to

when we are old.

She is an ancient singing

through our bones, 

a wise smile,

the Knowing eyes of a

Watcher in the Woods.

If you are quick enough,

you might just spy

the furry tip of her tail

peeking out from

under her billowing robe,

and trailing behind

like moondust.

Follow her,

Embrace her,

for without Wild Woman,

our spirits shrivel up

and begin to die.

With her,

our vision

expands,

and

we learn,

finally
and unfathomably,

to fly.

Fresh

Izy's Out of Standard challenge over at Real Toads this week is to consider the mechanical harvest. This coincides with my sister having recently seen the documentary Fresh, about a grassroots movement away from industrial agribusiness, back towards whole foods, small local harvests and kind conditions for the food and animals we grow to eat. This movement understands that Wall Street bankers have taken over determining how the world's food is grown, and the impact is detrimental to our lives. To put it mildly.

The last 50 years has been all about pesticides and mass production, toxic-contaminated "soil", pesticide-related cancers and salmonella,  trauma endured by the warehoused fowl and animals we "grow" in cages.  Not to mention GMO's and processed/refined "foods" that have no nutritive value whatsoever. And we are ingesting all of this when we eat. No wonder illnesses have spiked as a result. Check out Izy's eerie description of driving past a mechanical harvest, over at Toads. 

The bottom line seems to be that we have spent fifty years moving away from whole foods and small farms, only to realize our future health depends upon our return to the ways of our grandparents. The Fresh movement is encouraging us to do just that, to return to  production  of whole foods which will be locally distributed and consumed.  We can grow our own in our backyards, or support local small farmers and buy local. Thankfully, we have this choice.

Take me back to the land

of my ancestors,

out to the barn in the early dawn.

Cattle softly lowing,

milk in glass bottles

clinking on the porch,

porridge

with an eye on the sky,

to make sure we get the corn in

while it's

still dry.

Tanned men tossing bales of hay

as if they were pillows,

kids catching them

up on the truck-bed,

stacking them high,

to store in the hayloft,

putting another season's

cattle fodder by.

Let me and my sister walk through

the cornstalk rows,

as we did

when we were small,

green fronds way over our heads,

as the water trickled down

the dusty rows

on hot summer mornings,

those days when the skies

were always blue,

and the peace

of the land

was all

we knew.

I will wander through 

the green pastures,

singing,

and the cows will start

to lumber after me,

clumping downhill 

in the loam,

thinking I must be there

to sing them home.

The pig in the paddock

snorffles our table-scraps,

rooting happily in the mud.

We call him Bacon,

which horrifies me,

and puts me off  breakfast.

They try to convince me 

that rabbit is chicken

at supper,

though I sit, suspicious,

glowering,

in my place.

I never did like eating

anything

that had a face.

Take me back 

- take this whole world back -

to times when 

I was young,

when the world

and our food

was whole,

when Wall Street didn't

make our food unreal,

and we didn't ingest chemicals

at every meal.

We have come so far

from our grandparents' day,

only to discover

they had 

the prescription for living 

right,

doing it their way.

Shadow Elusive

Sometimes I see

a black shadow,

ghostly,

slipping along a wall

at the farthest edge 

of my peripheral vision,

so elusive

I can barely catch it

out of the corner 

of my eye.

I never turn my head.

I don't want to

look too close.

I'd rather believe

that it is you.

Peggy's prompt over at Poetry Jam tonight is: Shadows. For fourteen years, I had a big black wolf shadowing me everywhere I went. The last two years without him I have so felt his absence. But every now and then, barely glimpsed out of the corner of my eye, sometimes there is the hint of a black shadow...........

The Light Shines Through My Broken Places

Daybreak over Tofino Inlet

Kids, the prompt over at Real Toads Friday was to take inspiration from the music of Waylon Jennings, his song "I've Always Been Crazy", or the topic  Outlaw Country. I  am behind, as usual, and decided to further complicate things by trying to write a pantoum......the crazyness enters in when I look back at the wrong places I once looked, hoping to find love......and needing to repeat the lesson, till I finally "graduated" into single bliss some decades ago. 

Light shines through my brokenness in sweet relief .
All  my shattered dreams bore visions new -
Heart honed in fire, molded in pain and grief,
Unworthy lovers taught me what is true.

All my shattered dreams bore visions new -
fashioned from rubble, newly forged from pain,
unworthy lovers taught me what is true.
I rose from ashes,  was made new again.

Fashioned from rubble, newly forged from pain,
Love, my wandering soul began to teach.
I rose from  ashes,  was made new again,
Heart open wide, and Heaven within my reach.

My wandering soul did Love begin to teach,
Heart honed in fire, molded in pain and grief-
Heart open wide, and Heaven within my reach
Light shining through my brokenness in sweet relief .

Am adding a link to the Poetry Pantry at Poets United, as it is gray and rainy today and am too tired to look thru the archives. This is a brand new poem:) 

A Candle for Peace

Light a Candle for Peace at 

http://www.candlesforpeace.com/

May this candle of peace

in my heart

light a candle for peace 

in yours,

that lights another

candle for peace

in its turn,

until, all over the world,

the candle of peace

in our hearts, 

burning brightly,

shines enough light

to illuminate

and unite

the whole world

in the peace and justice

all beings 

long for.

The prompt at Poets United's Wonder Wednesday is: Wax. I am a huge fan of scented candles and incense. When I have those, I feel truly rich. We also always have white candles in the cupboard for winter storms, when trees fall across the hydro wires and the power goes out. But I thought of another kind of candle today.

On Diminished Capacity

image from aplacetolovedogs.com


At Real Toads, Kerry set us a task: to tell a tale by an unreliable narrator. Some of the prompt words offered were impaired memory and diminished capacity and I perked right up! Topics I know a LOT about :-)  given my own diminished capacities. For this poem, I chose the everyday ramblings of a dear little old lady for whom I provide home support. 

Well, I know for certain that
I handed him the keys in his hand
because I dont have them any more.
Do you suppose he is
getting copies made?
Do you suppose he 
has designs on me?
Because I love the man 
for his kindness,
but I have no thought 
of anything with him,
his wife can rest easy.

I keep calling and asking him:
Have you found the keys?
and he says "No keys,
I gave them back to you,"
but I dont have them,
so he has lost them.
The man is in another world,
the poor bugger,
and I wont ask anything of him again.

And Those Idiots called,
saying I owe them money.
What this?
I paid them the money,
and now they say
they need more money?

Well, after I looked through 
all the papers in my filing cabinet
(I left a big pile of paper 
all over my desk, not to worry,
sweetheart, whenever you have time,
rest yourself,
dont exhaust yourself),
and reconciling the statements
because, thank you, God, 
for giving me a brain, 
I discovered a discrepancy 
of five dollars.
They are trying to steal 
from the People,
what this? They are Idiots.

And you remember,
sweetheart,
I switched from Shaw to Telus
because the tv was not working
and Shaw was charging
too much money?
Well, Telus is an Idiot,
and I am switching back to Shaw,
and Telus said I signed a Plan
and I did not sign a Plan so I am
filing a complaint 
with the Better Business Bureau
and now I have to find all the Papers
from Wherever I Put Them
and thank you, God, for giving me a brain
to keep all this paper from all the years,
I just have to find Where I Put Them.
Can you bring up the boxes
I told you to put in the basement,
so I can Review them?
Whenever you have time,
Sweetheart, dont exhaust yourself,
but the man is calling me in half an hour
and I have to find them by then.
I love you, God bless you,
but the world is full of Idiots,
making us tired.

I have to go see the doctor,
That Idiot,
who does nothing to help me,
since three years now,
loooong time, I am aching
and my legs not holding me up,
and he asks me
"What can I do for you?"
and I say "You're the Doctor!"
What an idiot.
What this?
They take our money
and they dont look after
the People?

And that woman - the Twit -
we wont even say her name,
Lord, keep the Bad Energies from us,
and protect us forever, Amen,
she said to me
How are you?
and I said Fine Thank You Very Much
and just kept walking
because I want only good energy
and she is bad energy,
and her, I dont need.

For the sale, I got
half price for the chairs:
two chairs,
they bought, 
for the price of one.
People, they dont want to pay,
I paid so much money,
the chairs have hardly been sat on
in fifteen years,
and there they go walking out the door,
may God bless the people who sit in them,
and this poor little widow
left here to cry, alone.