Poetry

Otherwise *

I have met ones Or other wise two Who see the world As though through My other pair of eyes And here dwells The gaze-lifting might Of moving mountains The chasms deep blue Of the teeming ocean And maybe I should not Hope to meet more As it is the beyond-hope That humbles us To…

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Unlike Me

A kind of poem, memoir and statement of an evolving feminism and poetic activism rolled into one. And today… there are some unseen peacemakers in the world who, like the artist or the healer, drink the poison (the shadow, the unlike, the toxic waste) of a place, country or culture to hopefully open our eyes,…

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Poem of La Gomera

My poem of this trip in January 2017 ended up as solid rock-like verses, attempts to convey the feeling of meeting this volcanic frontier, in the landscape and in me. From the meaning of Islas Canarias (island of the dogs), there are little echoes of poets that spirited the experience of finding my own ‘black…

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Because We Are Already Root

This poem is about darkness and light. The language we attach to these polarities. Actually, in the journey of the soul, to the divine, they are the same. It is the naming that divides them. The poem questions, why do we see light as ‘up’, darkness as ‘down’? And what might evolve when these ‘opposites’…

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Poem of Evia II

Walking today, a swathe of shoreline Sprung at me, its stalks giant tall, And still swaying; the feathery grass That we had watched dancing, Brushing against the curve Of July’s pregnant full moon. Then we stood, two standing spoons, Wide silvered faces upturned, With the sea grazing at our backs, It’s rhyming ripples mirroring The cat and fiddle,…

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Poem of the Pelion

In gratitude for the friendship & beauty, and inspiration of The Moving Archetype, Anilio Centre, June-July 2016 I crossed lands to climb this mountain, And the mountain climbed into me. First, it’s fern shadows flickered at my forehead, Second, it’s pines started their moan-song in my mouth, A breath further, it’s springs were pooling silver…

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Poem Of Evia

  There was too much for-giving For me to write a poem today The sound of the lute Is ringing in my ears And I cannot strike a note Of the old song I know. What is the new love chord That is longing to be plucked From this tip of tongue From my inner…

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The Irreplaceable

Mum, is it because You have been so Not-counting happy To swallow your pride And wing out of your way For so many long long miles That the doctor now says: ‘Your hip needs replacing’ And: ‘Your heart is too big It’s oversized for your body’? Maybe. And also to show us There are some…

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Achilles Heels

You’re sitting, legs askew On the deck of a boat. Is it the bobbing water beneath your gunnel That is making your cling With hands, skirt, lips, That slightly forced smile? And your feet, Jammed into tight, white, backless sandals, Like the cigarette jammed between your fingers, Portray a woman unsure, unseen,      …

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Pattern of The Heart We were traversing the etched-out landscape of Hampsted Heath, In the way that only old friends can; Weathered skins, shielding yet knowing. Maps, outdated in their story, and still showing the way. We were talking of men and matters of love, Delving back into patterns well-versed, as if new. ‘You always…

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