Cherokee Prayer Blessing
May the Warm Winds of Heaven
Blow softly upon your house.
May the Great Spirit
Bless all who enter there.
May your Mocassins
Make happy tracks
in many snows,
and may the Rainbow
Always touch your shoulder.
Yes, happy tracks in our falling snow! Snow that assists in subduing our wild and disheartening Colorado wildfires- yes, and, more poetry!...
poet t. kilgore splake's latest published poetry collection, CEMETARY DREAMS, from Transcendent Zero Press...
trees november
roots in heaven late night shadows
branches rising to sky black rorschach silhouettes
seeking to touch god breeze whispering not yet
dear mom
sorry not obeying
your do's and don'ts
son family black sheep
forever a rolling stone
lost in muddy waters
rambling guitar blues
poet George Held, New York, New York...
Solitary
Whoever truly creates is alone.
--Czeslaw Milosz
Solitary refinement-
province of poets and wiccans,
for whom retreat
into nature enables
devine enchantment
A sioux child swaddled
on her mother's back
the snow falling
poet r soos, Joshua Tree, California...
poetry
if you listen close
you will hear everybody
friend
I picture your walk
in the silent desert dressed
in burlap and stars
poet S. liaqath Peeran, Bengaluru, India...
LONGINGS
Whenever your thoughts possess me,
I turn to your book of poems.
Your love songs trouble my heart.
An ache, a sigh, tears of blood.
O! my beloved! Let my grief wash my sins.
Turn my black soul to lightning white.
Can I be that wind to give you solace?
That light to illumine your path ways?
Can I be that fragrance of a rose?
Can I be that perfume of Arabia?
O! beloved! Turn me into a nightingale.
Let me sing songs to delight you forever.
This absence creates mirages and deliriums.
Drives me to longings and desolate thoughts.
poet Cathy Porter, Omaha, Nebraska...
At night
When stars go blue
We skip rocks across the lake At dawn
Tell jokes to the fish Deer on the lookout
Wait for a splash For treats
Of laughter
oot frae the haar lignin cantie- sundoon
...an into the haar her braith aye wairmth
hern snuves on ma rig in her rosary beads
out from the mist lying contented sundown
...and into the mist her breath still warmth
heron glides on my back in her rosary beads
one of t. kilgore splake's 'poet trees', Calumet, Michigan (bear creek haiku's, poems, and photos of Judith and I!)
poet Judith Partin-Nielsen, Longmont, Colorado...
M edicine Buddhas
A rise in endless space as
N uminous
T ibet
R eturns
A lawys to the heart
home of her people
poet Mary Jo Balistreri, Waukesha, Wisconsin...
In the Labyrinth of Old Love
with respect to Jim Zimmerman, The last Word
You can be the sun's fierce fire
if I can be the rainbow that links both land and sea.
You can be the obsidian flit and frit of volcanoes
if I can be the sea glass held within a child's hand.
You can be the fall's harvest of leaves
if I can be the ashes piled against our roses.
You can be the river's constellation of stars
while I can be the swirling nebula.
You can be flame that tears its way through fields if I can be the charred ghosts of old melodies.
The burning bush of Moses, you can be that too,
and I'll be embers that sustain our hearth.
see you in a moment...
and, you can mail your poetry to:
Last! If you choose to send poetry via email from within the US,
that's ok, too (again, include postal address)
