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You may have seen this inspired piece written by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. It says so much and so well about these times we live in. My hope is her words spread like wild fire in dry grass and we all see the signal flames.
The Weaver’s Edge
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Honing the edge of fragility
we bend and still bend
gracefully bending and weaving
settling turbulence
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Becoming tuning forks
we chose our words with care
They are the air
we breathe
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Artist: John Franzen
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A poetic dose
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She made a tincture of his words
dissolved in fine brandy.
Timed exactly
as the cusp of the horizon
split day into night
She took one dose
delicately
Three drops under her tongue
with a twist
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Artist: Zhang Xiaogang
(I write my poems first and then have great fun finding a picture to enhance the poem visually. I fell in love with the expression in this painting by Zhang X., even though it’s probably a painting of a young boy. The expression is just perfect so I’m using artistic license. Look, it even has the twist! Click on Zhang X. above for further info on this brilliant, soulful artist )
Learning curves
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The young girl, assessing the stylish posturing of her mother
critically ascertained its outward glow
as the wrappings on the package of a familiar androgyny
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The young girl, watching her father absently come and go
was held fast in his mystery.
Since he reappeared to participate in her deepest moments
it was heard as a message from god
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The young girl, never compromising her role as the eldest,
stealthily watched her brothers tangle in muscle
needing only to place her foot in the middle
to remind them this contest has many sides
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The woman, quite old now,
loves the glow of her sweat picking beans,
considers all men brothers,
and happily listens to the birds in the trees
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Under the radar
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They softened or hardened
their intelligence
walking deftly
under the ladders
of hierarchy
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While circumnavigating
the solid grid of references
they wander barefoot
dancing Flamenco
The flight of their passion
entertaining the complexities
of insight
bright seeds
planted in fecund dust
under the radar
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photo credit: Unknown
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Noise
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words
cutting through space
ornery
but still good looking
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words
lying tips of tongues
acid but effervescent
corroding silence
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words
dangling before sightless eyes
wind chimes without meaning
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words
cascading from errant ears
pummeling the surface
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artist: Guim Tio Zarraluki
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nimble digits
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you know
If we lie together
I will feel your measuring stick
and the exact degree of intimacy
you allow yourself
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and though
you’re sugaring your lips,
you’ll taste my salt
seasoned by the little gods
weathering the storm
on the lightning spiked
branches of trees
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Artist: Christian Schloe
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Home, home on the range
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There is a difference between having “no rules”
and
lawlessness
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The essence of traveling this boundary
is exploring substance
rather
than defining
form
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… git along little doggies…
on the frontiers
of
my
self
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photo credit: kkart.deviantart.com
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Three
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Doubt and Belief silently argue
as they sit upon a box
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Trust joins them
adding 3 wheels to the box
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giving mobility
to the debate
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everyone’s muscles still tense
when they pass Hope or Violence
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but they are now meandering
around the countryside
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looking for the exact spot
where their grief is buried
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photo credit: Unknown
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Meandering
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The physics of depth
includes both speed and inertia
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Meandering
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A flexible still point
in chaos
and
timeless trust
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Artist: Bill Gingles
The Poetics of Light 