POEM: Response to One Single Impression Prompt of 7/27/08

BEAUTIFUL

I feel beautiful
beauty filled
full of beauty
deeply fed

by the beauty
in the face of each soul
who drifts by like one petal
from a vast mysterious rose

by the beauty
of this one Heart
more astounding than any flower,
that gently enfolds my attempts
to name it

this most patient of Hearts
that opens ever and again,
turned away from or no

Yes, I feel beauty full

* * * * * * * *

This week’s prompt at ONE SINGLE IMPRESSION is “faces.” The above poem was the direct result of sitting on a bench by a garden after dinner, as fellow residents walked to/from dinner. I was wearing a long pale green skirt with a slightly darker green blouse. And when someone would comment on how nice that combination looked I’d joke “I feel like I should be in a terra cotta pot.” Each passerby had a radiant smile to my hello, and many stopped to chat, some even sat down for awhile to schmooze. It was one of those rare and incredible times in which I felt that one-ness with everyone and everything, my personal "I" muted within connectedness.

[Image: courtesy of Zodiac Arts]

* * * *

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

**** [aka: Patricia Kelly] **** If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blogs: ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL and ROSWILA’S TAIGA TAROT, and Yahoo DREAMJIN: Group for Dreamku – Haiku-Like Dream Poems ****

IN TRAINING, poem by Patricia Kelly

IN TRAINING

The involuted urgency with which
he speeds through life casts
a wake before him, a brief

mirage and like those desert
fakes, he, too offers no
oasis, no shelter, only
glare and grit and
storm. This time, no

longer to be an accident
waiting in his path, I fling
myself aside, no elan
as yet, no grace, only
sheer survival. But never

again to be like an insect, a small
blurry cross of wings and
body, sacrificed on his slick
transparent shield.

* * * * * * * *

The first draft of this poem was in May of 1989. I revised it again several times in the intervening years, until just the other day when I made what I am now able to consider the final draft. This poem may have taken me longer to come to a point of rest with than any I've ever written. And you may note I say "point of rest," as I do not truly consider any poem finished. I just reach a place where I feel able to let it be, and also then wish to share it. (Some I "let be," and just put back in my files.)

The first drafting was so many years ago I can't recall what urged it upon me, what particular thoughts or experience. But when I unearthed that first draft a couple years after it was written, what it was trying to say was lively enough for me to entice further work on it, as it was each subsequent time I've edited it.


[Image above: by Roswila]

* * * *

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

**** [aka: Patricia Kelly] **** If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blogs: ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL and ROSWILA’S TAIGA TAROT, and Yahoo DREAMJIN: Group for Dreamku – Haiku-Like Dream Poems ****

GRATITUDE, a poem, & TWO HAIKU, by Patricia Kelly

Before I talk about this walk I took today, I do want to say I don't offer my sketch above as anything even approaching "art." I'm still trying to re-train my hand to draw what the heart of my eye sees. :-) It's been many years since I've sketched from nature. However, I did want to put the poem on this sketch as the poem was written right after I did it. I hope it adds a sense of the immediacy I was feeling at that time.

And here's two haiku also written on that walk to the beach overlook:

cliff side guard rail
the biker pauses to smoke
a cigarette


* * * *

a tiny brown bird
on the overlook fence
mutual watching

* * * *

This was a very special time at the overlook. It's the first time I have been able to make it all the way there. Then, to see that the cliff is very much like the bluffs on the southeast corner of Block Island, Rhode Island -- my heretofore favorite place on earth -- nearly knocked my socks off. I had dreamed for many years of finding a way of moving to Block Island, though truly knew it could not happen. And here I am, living blocks from a very similar landscape. My problems seem so small, and life so large, and good.

* * * *

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blogs ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL and ROSWILA’S TAIGA TAROT, and Yahoo DREAMJIN: Group for Dreamku – Haiku-Like Dream Poems.

PRAYING TO LOSE MY HEAD, by Patricia Kelly

PRAYING TO LOSE MY HEAD

Oh, Deity of Blinding Light,
my unknown father,
free me from this head
of mine, cut this obstacle
from my knotted neck
in one clean swipe

Relieve me of its weight
of eyes that see as through the darkest glass
of ears that hear only ancient echos and newest fears
of a mouth stained deeply by bitterness
of a nose that is not inspired of spirit

Then do not rush to comfort my Great Mother
but let Her grief echo in the emptiness
that bleeds where my misunderstandings roiled
before your blade’s release

Let Her tears flood over me until
You are moved to gift me with a new
way to comprehend

And until this gift, I will wait unknowing
in the flooding darkness, knowing only
that You will keep Your promise
of transformation

Background: One of Ganesh’s titles is “Remover of Obstacles.” I wrote this poem on first day of Ganesh Chaturthi 2007 (September 15), inspired by the story of Ganesh’s origin: Before Ganesh had an elephant’s head, he was guarding His Mother Parvati's bath. He and His father, Shiva, did not recognize each other, and when Ganesh refused Shiva entrance to Parvati’s bath, Shiva cut off Ganesh’s head. Parvati’s grief was so overwhelming that Shiva went out into the jungle and cut off the head of the first animal He saw, an elephant, and made it Ganesh’s new head.

I’ve had this poem in my stack of possible future posts since September, well before I knew I'd be moving to California. And reading it again today I find it intriguing given all the mental and emotional letting go being required of me as I prepare to make this move cross country. Then there are all those moments when I do feel as if I am losing my head with all the worry, and all that has to be figured out and coordinated. (Not to mention the overwhelming flood of memories as I go through a lifetime of things collected.) However, ultimately I always come back to the joy of it all, to recalling why I am going through this. Of course, it remains to be seen what the intangible results will be once I’ve made the move and am acclimated. How will I have changed? I have an inkling, actually, it will not so much be that I will have changed as that I will have come back to a self who’s been in suspension for years. This inkling and the curiosity it generates also pulls me forward when I am feeling overwhelmed or stuck, and praying for transformation.

* * * *

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blogs ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL and ROSWILA’S TAIGA TAROT.

ON THE FENCE (Poem by Patricia Kelly)

ON THE FENCE

So
here I hang at
the edge of another death

Never casual this consideration
of plummeting, of letting go
of the fence's edge

Yet with each death's
night excitement creeps in, raising
hairs along my spine 'til howls of glee
resound through my breast and bone
even to the moon

* * * *

This is a really old poem, written around 1980. I used to enjoy reading it at poetry readings. That first line leads to quite a different place than most listeners would anticipate. :-)

I've been on the fence, in a way, for a long time. But just recently took a few concrete steps toward manifesting my dream of moving out of New York City to a retirement community. Maybe upstate, maybe California, maybe who-knows-where, but the ball is finally rolling and I'm revving up for the leap to follow it.

[The image is from webshots.com, and is called "Alive With Color."]

* * * *

Resource: Annie Finch's poetry, wonderful pagan poet, be sure to check out the spiral of formal poems on the lower left of the homepage.

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blogs ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL and ROSWILA’S TAIGA TAROT.

FERAL (A Poem) and New Journal Cover Collage, by Patricia Kelly

[try clicking on image for larger version]



FERAL

it explodes
a feral cat stepped
on in the dark

landing it radiates
terror in stunned
stillness

then turns tail
trailing churned dirt
and dust

some things gone wild
are better left
unouted

* * * *

Yeah, both poem -- written 7/07 -- and collage are very dark in mood. Pretty much how I've been feeling for some time now. It'll pass, if my previous decades of experience with moodiness are proof of anything in this life. And the dark has its place in our lives...e.g., where else can the feral things live safely for both themselves and us? I also think it is significant that I chose (without consciously thinking about it) a red covered journal this time. Under/mixed in with a lot of dark moods there is often anger. And, in a more positive vein, energy and passion.

I just finished this collage on the cover of my newest general daily journal book. I recently bought a batch of "single topic" spiral notebooks very cheaply, so I've had to start new journals much more quickly than usual. I usually buy notebooks with 4 or 5 topic capacity (i.e, lots more pages) but could not resist that sale on the singletons! Besides, it gives me an excuse to do collages more frequently. :-) And the words in that little white circle in the upper left? "If you're not outraged, you're not paying attention." That button in the middle bottom says "Panic." BTW, some of you may recognize many of the images in this collage. They're from the Lord of the Rings movies.

I've been meaning to address something about my style of collaging. Until fairly recently I tried to make my hand-cut and pasted collages appear mostly seamless. Cutting away anything that would distinguish images as having come from "elsewhere" and carefully arranging them with "seamlessness" in mind. But it occurred to me as I was trimming an image that leaving a border around it of its original background would make it "pop" a bit from the foreground of the collage I was working on. And I became aware that "seams" and obvious borders can be used artistically just like anything else. So I have now added leaving seams or using borders around an image to the ways I work with images in a collage. E.g., you can see borders at the bottom of the above collage around the horses and dragons. And most of the images in this collage are "seamed." This disjointedness seems to fit the mood. You can see the use of borders and seams clearly and I think more effectively on my previous journal collage cover.

* * * *

Resource: Bolts of Silk, ".... poetry with something to say."

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blogs ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL and ROSWILA’S TAIGA TAROT.

WATER LANGUAGE (A Poem by Patricia Kelly)

WATER LANGUAGE

The shapeless language
of water invades my life

Pots and watering cans splash
and slip from my grasp

Leaky faucets wear
at the ragged islands
of my sleep

Another pet fish dies,
tilted against the breast
of a mermaid

My rug soaks up the rain
as a bent gutter gushes
like a manic mouth
and old window frames weep

Today, they replace the bent
drain pipe.
My walls tremble.

They pound the window frames
out into sudden emptiness.
I flinch.

They heft new lenses
into each open frame:

Ah, the trees,
surely the trees
never offered their arms
like this before,

never danced, fey dancers
conjuring joy,

never felt so green

* * * *

This poem was written in 1987 and revised in 2002. I was reminded of it recently with all the rain we have been having this year in the states. New York City has been having it's own "water language" crisis, too. Such as a recent burst steam pipe under the street in midtown Manhattan, which was particularly unnerving. The early news footage of the steam filled with white and sometimes muddy debris erupting several stories into the air, was all too reminiscent of 9/11 images. Then this morning, we had a tornado in Brooklyn (southwest of where I live in Queens) and lots of flooding all around the city. They can't find any record of there having ever been a tornado in Brooklyn before, by the way.

Hope you all are staying dry and comfy.

[I've had the above photo on my computer for years and it's source site is long since defunct -- www.birds.fl.]

* * * *

Resource: trees, if you please, a blog dedicated to trees, one of my favorite entities on this still glorious planet.

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blogs ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL and ROSWILA’S TAIGA TAROT.

THE STONE GATHERER (A Poem by Patricia Kelly)

THE STONE GATHERER

On first attempt, I do not drown
but float to the surface, my back bent
above the water.

Now I collect stones, and tell others
they are grave markers.

But my body is the true marker
and its own grave, deserted by all
but the faintest signs of life that twist
upward like stunted flowers
through graveyard dust.

And I continue to collect stones, lining
my seams with pebbles, my pockets with rocks,
my shoes and socks with gravel.
I even swallow small ocean worn stones.

I will not surface
this time.

Patricia Kelly © 2007 (original draft 1990)

* * * *

Life's been the pits recently. Could you tell by the above? :-D Too much has been going on all at once, most of it upsetting. Although this is a very old poem, I have made recent revisions, and it does unfortunately fit my mood a bit too well and too often these days. I hasten to add, though, that I am living the life given to me to live, eating well and losing weight, and still planning to move out of this apartment and maybe even this city. Not to mention undertaking various creative projects and keeping up with three blogs. So I'm not as utterly lost as I was in the days I wrote this piece.

[BTW, the photo above is one of those I've had on my computer for years. The web site in the lower right hand corner (www.bird.fl) is defunct.]

* * * *

Resource: Ideas for Writing Poetry in the Classroom, for children, but good for anyone who wants to prime their writing pump.

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blogs ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL and ROSWILA’S TAIGA TAROT.

SHE DREAMS OF BELLY DANCING, by Patricia Kelly & Daughn Lee (Dream inspired poem)

The World card in The Tarot of the Cat People

Neither Daughn nor I have a dated copy of the above. But I knew it was written between 1999 and 2005, as I remember I posted an exploration of the dream the opening stanza is based on to the web site I had at that time. Although I don't have the dream journal for those years anymore, I did save to my computer everything posted to that now defunct web site (Pegasus Dreaming). And in those copies of those old posts is the one about that belly dancing dream with the year 2000 above it.

Probably more interesting would be how we came to write this, but I can't recall that either. All I remember is writing my stanza in an email. Then happily awaiting her reply appended to mine and so on, until we agreed it felt finished. We had plans then -- and if the Deities cooperate will still do this -- to read it together at an open poetry reading.

Both Daughn and I actually feared we'd lost this poem, never to be seen or read again, as neither of us could find our copies when she brought it up some time ago. Then yesterday I was going through my writing files (a never ending job it seems :-D) and, voila, there was one copy, undated, but complete. Yes!

As to why I've posted it as three separate scanned images? Oy, I find setting up tables and boxes in HTML to accomodate special spacing like Daughn's very time-consuming. So I cheated and hope it isn't distracting. I.e., I did it up in large font in WordPerfect, printed it out, and scanned in each of the three pages. I had also thought to blend the three into one long scanned image in Microsoft Paint. But, that, too, would have been time consuming, as I'm not very skilled at that. And, honestly, my temper has been really short these days. I think the heat really got to me. So I didn't want to lose the delight of having found what Daughn and I sadly believed to be our lost poem, beneath editing and computer snafus due to my inexperience and resultant head-banging! :-)

The odd thing is a mutual friend of ours (Eva Yaa Asantewaa) just made a post to The Tarot Channel the day before I found the poem, about a belly dancer who is developing performances based on The Tarot. Then, as Eva pointed out on re-reading this poem, it has a definite aspect to it of The World (sometimes called The Universe) card in The Tarot.

What a delight to have this lost poem come home!

* * * *

Resource: Belly Dance America.

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blogs ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL and ROSWILA’S TAIGA TAROT.

ON BRIGHTON BEACH BOARDWALK (A Poem by Patricia Kelly)

Brighton Beach Boardwalk, (c) Lesha 2004, nycfoto.com


ON BRIGHTON BEACH BOARDWALK

Decades have passed since I last
traced this shoreline.
Restaurants now bear chic names
and umbrellas over their trendy outdoor
tables, where memory holds out for crowded
bars and Jewish delis opening on the boardwalk,
awash in aromas of beer and knishes.

I am startled to find the old wooden
steps down to the beach buried in the sand,
only the top curve of railing still beckoning,
a beginning that is its own ending.

While the beach itself has narrowed
with the years, even as I have expanded,
both ocean and my shadow claiming
more territory, like the sand packed
beneath the boardwalk burying that dark
cave we teenagers retreated to ....

that underground I entered, grasping
after the brass ring in a life spinning
rapidly out of control, as I drank too much
and necked with one guy or another
in the boardwalk’s shadows ....

With one heavy sigh I accept that the cave
and its shadows have been laid to rest, slowly
and surely, gracefully and not, with the passing
of season after season.

I sit on a bench to rest my aging knees, giving
way gratefully to the immediacy of light
and heat, to this moment of clear
skies and all-embracing seas.

Sometimes it is good
to be faced with good-bye.

* * * *

This poem is just short of 11 years old (revised since then, and today before posting), so it is entirely possible that the buried steps and filled-in walk space underneath the boardwalk have long since been cleared. Even so, what the poem addresses for me remains as true as the day I first drafted it. I had participated in a Labor Day poetry reading on the boardwalk by Coney Island -- which is just a walk down the way from Brighton Beach. After the reading, I decided to stroll to Brighton Beach, not having visited it in probably almost 30 years.The photo above is recent, taken looking toward Coney Island. The section of Brighton Beach I reference in the poem is to the viewer's back. Unfortunately, Coney Island, too, is rapidly becoming a memory. But what memories! The rides, the games, the food! I especially cherish my memories of Steeplechase, for instance.

Hope your holiday is a happy, healthy, and safe one.

* * * *

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blogs ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL and ROSWILA’S TAIGA TAROT.

ON SLIPPING (Poem by Patricia Kelly)

The World (XXI) in The Gipsy Tarot



ON SLIPPING


this life of mine is such
a loose fit at times I could almost
walk right out of it

mostly though it just rumples
and wrinkles and gathers
in bunches rubbing at
sensitive spots until I sigh
and re-arrange
and smooth
and tend to its constant
stuttering slippage

were it not for that rare moment
when my lumpish frame and this
life meet, no rub, no slide,
nor even sense that we are separate

I might simply
slip out

* * * *

A lot of my "house shmatas" are way over-sized, having been bought before I lost of lot of weight. There's only so much altering I can bear doing; I saved most of my sewing energies for my street clothes. :-) (I've "made do" with altering as much as possible over the past few years as clothes are such an expense, to say the least.) The upshot is, I swim in almost all of my house shmatas, even using strategically placed safety pins. There's also humid weather, in which sheets and furniture throws stick and rumple and need constant re-arranging, etc., etc. Then this morning, after pinning my house shmata for the millionth time and re-arranging the throw on my easy chair for the gazillionth, the first line of the above poem just "popped."

* * * *

Resource: Concelebratory Shoehorn Review, "a monthly literary arts magazine" that has some cool photos, too (several of my poems are to appear in one of the fall issues).

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blogs ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL and ROSWILA’S TAIGA TAROT.

ANOTHER WAY TO DEAL WITH DREAMS (Dream-Based Poem)

[The Fool card in The World Tree Tarot]


ANOTHER WAY TO DEAL WITH DREAMS
(or “An Odd Sort of Blessing On the Joyous Occasion
of Stephanie & Jay’s Wedding of 4/28/07")


I

the night before her wedding I dream

of hoping to catch that man’s attention as I fall slowly
down a cliff side toward shallow water

of landing in the flooded kitchen where two
small ovens stand side-by-side

of instructions for use bleeding across drowned pages

of the man from the cliff stepping out of his book,
a shadow from another century

of saying it’s a well-written story, especially for a romance

of the slick, pale green triptych we fold and open,
fold and open, but cannot read

of the author who demands my copy of his book

of every one of my painstaking notes falling out
to dissolve like salt in water

of the island woman reading her poems about death
and abuse, loss and sadness

of her rage briefly reflecting like the bright eyes
of a jaguar in the night

of the retired policeman’s poetry, cryptic and dark, one
word or fragment stacked above the other

of struggling to feel a way through his braided poems
as if they were brailled


II

I wake, my lips dry from kissing up to these ancient icons

Basta! I say out loud and Basta! again then burst out
in a spontaneous sing-song blessing, both reminder
and celebration of my friend’s wedding

Today, I will seek no reassurance, nor petition
for answers, but let the past toddle away
like last night’s dreams, naked and laughing,
a small child refusing to get dressed for the day

* * * *

Resource: Eternal Guild/Dream Art, and yet another way of dealing with our night dreams: some intriguing, brightly colored, dream-inspired paintings.

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blogs ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL and ROSWILA’S TAIGA TAROT.

A DREAMKU, & A PROBLEM WITH ENDINGS (Poem)

Mandala courtesy of Zodiac Arts



[dreamku]

rocky cove
the red sails on an anchored
sea-faring ship




A PROBLEM WITH ENDINGS

She tried again to explain her problem with
my poem’s ending, “Too pointed,” she said.

Years later a friend takes a different tack
“Let the opening image have its head,”
gently making that point I’d come to dread.

Today I see what they were saying as
I sail through poems by many others,
wincing when the occasional pointed
ending nails a vital image to the pier.

Here, hop on and release that mooring line....

* * * *

The dreamku and the dream it's based on are several weeks old. The poem I wrote a couple days ago. I was not thinking at all about the dream/dreamku when drafting the poem. But once completed, the poem opened the dream a bit more for me. Unfortunately, my mood today has me "nailed to the pier." Maybe it's that NorEaster that's on the way. Yes, I'll blame it on the weather. :-)

Resource: Free E-Poetry Books on PoemHunter.com (pdf format).

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blogs ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL and ROSWILA’S TAIGA TAROT.

IN THE MIRROR and THE FONTANEL (Poems)

["Wild Leaf," copyright Superstock, Inc., Webshots.com]


IN THE MIRROR

part sister, part demon
you visit nightly
draped in sleep,
a child playing dress-up
before her mother's mirror

you take on facets
that beg reflection,
friend or traitor,
whimsical or sad

as each in turn
finds full embrace
in the moon-like silver
of the mirror

* * * *

I've been reading a great deal of poetry by other people, even more than usual, which often precipitates writing of my own. This new poem above popped up late last night, pestering me until I got it down on paper. Funny thing is, I don't remember very much at all of my dreams last night. Maybe writing the poem served as that function for the night. And I'm only partly joking....

P.S. After posting the above I went off-line and another poem promptly asserted itself. I know from years of experience that my poems take a while to "settle," so both of these poems may wind up being slightly "tweaked." But I do believe they are essentially complete.

THE FONTANEL

it aches deeply today
this soft spot
I’ll always hold for you

old failures and pointed
questions with no answers prod
until it blooms bluer
than any bruise

but better the pulsing ache
of this unclosed fontanel
than a hardness like graveyard
bones piled over you

P.P.S. A third poem has since wiggled its way through, but I probably won't post that one til it's had a chance to "settle." I'm rather tickled that three appeared in barely 24 hours, as I really don't write "regular" poems much at all these days. I'm too absorbed in various haiku forms.

* * * *

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blogs ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL and ROSWILA’S TAIGA TAROT.

LIFE AS AN INTUITIVE.... (Poem)

[Image: Magic Web Clipart Gallery]


some knowing rises unbidden,
unwanted,

like fire
in the belly of a fish

* * * *

Resource: Visit Poettree, to enjoy some beautiful photos with haiku ("haiga"). BTW, the above is not a haiku nor a haiga, even by my loose definitions. :-D

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blog: ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL.

TAROT READING FOR NENA (A Poem)

Photo from Snow Crystals

Nena was a dear friend. I just heard of her death. It was not unexpected as she'd been ill for a while. At the time I wrote the poem below (14 years ago) she was 72 years young. We eventually had only occasional phone and mail contact, she living upstate and my arthritic knees no longer permitting me to make the bus trip to visit. But she was always in my heart and prayers. I post this poem in her memory and to offer a blessing for her further journey, but mostly to express my gratitude for her friendship.

The editor in my mind wants to say how this poem does not fully jell or "work." But my heart loves the closing image. It captures my experience of her and I want to share it with you.

I sent Nena a box of "The Twelve Teas of Christmas" for the holidays. I am told she never knew it, as she was hospitalized just before it arrived. It is going to be shared to accompany the pot luck dinner at her memorial gathering. Fare thee well, dear friend....

TAROT READING FOR NENA

I am swept more quickly than usual
into the magic space the Tarot opens upon.

Her Swiss accent, energy and bright cheeks
enchant me, as any lingering concern
about the quality of reading
I can offer is banished.

The treasures of her son's family
and husband's Native American heritage,
her knowledge of astrology and herbs,
her deep connection to the Spirit in nature,
all open before me like surprise gifts
as we travel with the Tarot as our guide.

And we voyage on, her humor, strength
and independence, and the youth that radiates
from this elfin Elder as she continues
to learn about life, all delight and enrich me.

At the end of our journey, she hugs me.

I feel blessed, deeply and gently,
by the touch of fierce white wings.

(written June 1993; slightly revised January 2007)

* * * *

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blog: ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL.

THE WILLOW (A Poem)

"Leaf upon grate, 2006" by An Xiao,
That Was Zen, This Is Tao, used by permission.

My earlier poem post, TREE IN AUTUMN, reminded me of this 20 year old poem. Although it's set in spring, the feel is much the same as this time of year. Which is also why I think an autumnal flavored image is appropriate to accompany it.

Of all trees, I have to admit I adore willows the most. I know the one in this poem is long gone by now and I treasure her memory. To read another poem about a fun childhood memory of mine about this same willow, click here ("Witch of the Willows").

Ultimately though, beyond all the memories involved with this one willow, I post this poem for what I'm trying to say in the last stanza.

THE WILLOW

Willows, I was gently warned
do not usually live this long.
But here she stands,
her companion willows long gone
leaving her alone in her aging grace,
this dearest playmate of my childhood.

The fog of tears lifts and I see
the willow does not stand in my embrace
unscathed by the passing of almost 40 years.
Several of her largest branches
have been sacrificed
to the gods of survival
by the surgeon's saw.
Even as I have shattered or lost
so many growing edges.

I slide to the earth,
my back supported
by the willow's trunk, and cry,
picking through the fragments of my past
as through shards spilled
from a broken kaleidoscope
that, one after another, I hold up
to minute inspection.

For if this is a holographic universe
I should be able to gather
a sense of self from even the least
of these slivers.
But like the willow,
I may have had to give up too much
along the way.

Yet we two survivors
of life's fierce pruning
are together on this magical spring day.
And the earth hums beneath my palms,
seeming to ripple and stretch
in the willow's dappled shadows.
While through the skin of my back
and shoulders, my dear old friend
sings to me of the chaotic grace
that creates us all.

Yes, this is what abides:
the earth, the sun,
the singing in the skin that calls us back,
again and always again,
to the translucent wholeness of now.

* * * *

P.S. I just received notice that one of my poems has won a second place prize (they called it a "strong second" :-D) in Skyline Magazine's 2006 contest. What a lovely Holiday Season surprise gift!

Resource: Tobacco Road Poet, in the spirit of An's photo, here's some wonderful haiku, haiga and haibun by Curtis Dunlap.

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blog: ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL.