Under the Arbour

All for Flight

allurad — Sun, 13 Apr 2008 21:17:18 +0000

For years I was just Mom, my children small.

They looked into my eyes to learn the way.

I kept them close to kiss them should they fall

or wander off, from my protection stray.

I wondered at their gaily spreading wings

and knew the day would come they chose to fly

and in the way of tender growing things

shed their chrysalis, take to the sky.

My sadness held within as they took flight,

they did not see the net I held below.

Marveling that colors are so bright,

I lay in summer fields to watch them go.

We spend these passing days as life demands

but sometimes…they still light upon my hands.

Let Me Fall

allurad — Sat, 12 Apr 2008 23:20:10 +0000

Who can say when love might come to call
cascading down the years that move toward death.
We walk the solid ground as not to fall
while longing sighs and stretches with each breath.

The need to be connected to the One
resounds in every moment time sets down
until each ticks away and all is done
and we in what could be are left to drown.

How silently the heart turns where it will
and we without a say must let it lead.
We stumble on and on, no rest until
we lay resistance down, to love concede.

O’ let me cease to fight what life might give
surrendering to love while yet I live.

The Lesson Lost

allurad — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 23:38:22 +0000

Where is the line I cross to raise your ire,
the deeds your sacred truths will not defend.
How quick you are to cast me in the fire-
with supple grace I burn where you won’t bend.

I see myriad colors and their casting
set forth before my feet in bright array.
Life in me and me bound everlasting
not the fear locked path from which you stray.

Is your scope so narrow, viewed so darkly,
no wide lens gaze at all creation wrought.
Can full joy be known when seen so starkly.
who is the teacher, who the pupil taught.

The fault not owned by Christ but Christendom
and neither glorified by martyrdom.

Bleed Me Dry O’ Harbinger of April Doom

allurad — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 21:18:24 +0000

When April trumpets blare with good intent,
bright daffodils a’ sway in gentle breeze
I’m milked of every dime, each blessed cent.
My pounding brain grows louder by degrees.

The pain I feel makes it hard to believe
the kinder IRS, so saccharine.
No refund due to me, I won’t receive
enough to buy some blasted aspirin.

The curses on my lips I will repress,
well knowing how I’ll spend my tax rebate.
There is no need to worry or to guess,
to what I owe next year I will donate.

I’m sorry if this leaves me in a funk.
If I had two thin dimes I’d go get drunk!

Natalie

allurad — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 06:23:21 +0000

My granddaughter Natalie is four years old. Her appendix ruptured yesterday. My son Liam is in the mediteranean and her Mom is beside herself. Any healing energies would be very welcome. Bright Blessings to each~

Nuptials

allurad — Wed, 09 Apr 2008 06:00:36 +0000

These are the things I count with quiet joy,
a tally of the measure I am worth-
an aching back with labor to employ
and fingernails near blackened from the earth,

a sheltered patch of land with dreams to sow
to mark the progress of all growing things,
a cup to sip the seasons as they go,
and recognize the beauty each one brings,

to bathe in streams that tumble on their way
lulled by their sweet and timeless lullabies,
an ear to hear the wisdom of each day-
simplicity that grounds me as it flies.

Far from the stricken pace of city life
here I reside, the willing bride of life.

Voices

allurad — Tue, 08 Apr 2008 02:13:55 +0000

I heard Joan Baez sing in sixty-nine
before the Yasgur crowds, her truth aroused
the passions we set free as we caroused
in New York mud, on California wine.

We knew it then, how could we all forget
how stark oppression settles on the world
when flags of freedom can not be unfurled
and blood is spilled in sacrosanct Tibet.

I went to hear sweet Joanie sing tonight,
an activist on tour at sixty six,
still singing of the things we did not fix-
an angel with a sword of gentle might.

For every blatant truth, awash in red,
our apathy ignores our countless dead.

Refraction

allurad — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 01:01:15 +0000

When morning’s slanting rays enlight’ no more
and I am gone from here come good or ill,
will you then love me as you did before,
your spanning time and space an act of will.

Will you still draw me near if you’ve a choice,
in memory of once and pure delight-
when death’s own silence steals the ocean’s voice
though weaker hearts be broken in that flight.

When breath and body yield themselves to dark
and I no longer sleep in your embrace,
have you the faith that journey to embark,
to tread the roads of gossamer and lace.

Will you, Beloved, find me in the stars-
where we will claim eternity as ours.

The Zen of Pebble Dancing

allurad — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 18:46:24 +0000

I threw a pebble in the sea today
and watched it roll and tumble in the waves.
Control is not my own, it seemed to say-
this is the way a pebble tossed behaves.

Just like a stone I stumble through my days,
so lost above the earth, beneath the sky.
I’m anxious and confused by pebble ways-
the questions rage within, I still ask why.

But I must catch my breath, as well I might-
enjoy the rolling motion of the tide,
the shush and lull of sea-song in the night
and to the salty water loss confide.

No need to fight the motion, I am free,
embraced by life with total buoyancy.

Seared on the Cusp of Night

allurad — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 19:29:17 +0000

Here in the temple you and I alone,
every inhibition overthrown
delving deeper still than blood or bone.
Only now, no sins we need atone.

Here as silken scarves and dreams caress-
every soul-trussed fantasy undressed
on this altar, spread with willingness.
Love and lust, yes need and want confessed.

Simmered passion leaps to fan the fire,
swirls among the flames, incites desire-
bells at throat and ankles, hips inspire
us to peak as one while reaching higher.

Seared and sky clad on the cusp of night,
sated in the moon’s most perfect light.