Doing what has
to be done
has been the iron rule
of my life
but I wonder
at times
if iron ever breaks
suddenly
with no warning
and the pieces
fall
the long long way
to the ground
Poetry, spiritual, nature, oceans, love, trees
Doing what has
to be done
has been the iron rule
of my life
but I wonder
at times
if iron ever breaks
suddenly
with no warning
and the pieces
fall
the long long way
to the ground
I received my invitation
to be opened at the show
all the time I was preparing
but I didn’t know
when I went into the ring
they were watching row by row
then they came out punching
and I took it blow by blow
I thought I should protect myself
but where else could I go
I had an invitation
but I didn’t know
The journey into peaceful sleep
passes through the garden
of thorns
you can make yourself
very small
and dodge this way and that
and pass right by those thorns
of thought
another way is to make yourself
so opaque
you pass right through them
and they never know
you were there
or you could make yourself
so light
you fly high up over
that garden
you might wonder what that is
way down there
What can be unthreaded
has begun to perish
the pieces are not the whole
without the thought of one
there is always a flaw
between skin and bone
nails do not hold wood
split from top to bottom
stir the brew and drink the froth
it has your name on it
The first hint of dawn
a subtle change in light
darkness gradually pulls back
there is no conflict
the planet is turning
The pathway through the forests
of my heart
has many twists and bends
in places it is narrow
and the ground has rocks and roots
but the soil is soft and rich
when you find the springy path
beside the gurgling waters
of my joy
the sounds and smells invite you
jump right in
the taste is cool and sweet
the rare one who finds themselves here
cannot help smiling
My magic carpet tonight
was rumpled and yellow
it didn’t take me very far
I couldn’t even get out
of the dreamy bathroom
the stars will have to wait
for another day
then we’ll fly across the sky
with piercing soft eyes
barefoot and wrapped
in my favourite green towel
I have been
throwing pebbles
into the pond
in an attempt
to communicate with you
no response so far
I am about to conclude
you are not at the bottom
of the pond
maybe one more toss
Another visit
from my old friend
pain
he brings a gift
of rose petals on the ground
I have been so concerned
about rose petals
on the ground
a reminder of the beauty
of the end of things
the jagged line across worn fabric
frayed at the edge of age