Poet’s Muse

Shape shifting into that wolf he used to be, or even the lion made of fire and stone, produced nothing more than comical lyrics and dreams of hunting with dull knives instead of that line, that phrase he had called forth, the one on the tip of his tongue, he could almost taste it….

he refused the temptation to allow despair to take him down, to allow the lancing of his pain, the calling out of anguish using poetry as way of defeating. No.

His muse must live…..but he refused to share her nakedness, her bare soul, the broken body from chemo and cancer, the legs he adored now whittled down, he would not go there, if he did he would not live there. Crushed.

God spoke and he listened. The warm embrace of nature began with a soft sun…..melting the ice. And rain, one of those beautiful life giving rains. His arm. A pen on paper.

And life began again, somehow. Spring.

Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Note: This is fiction. My wife is taking chemo but we are ok.

Shadows of Small Birds

Shadows of small birds can be seen now, returning to the land

while the sun takes its rightful place in the sky again

and on some days, a cold rain

chases away the snow.

Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Note: Just a reminder – I’m posting now on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday with a little on the weekends.

Thank you for reading!

The Gift of Rain

What surprised him the most was the strength of the bow, the Living Bow. Would she accept him? How many times had he trained with his uncle? Yet he was able to notch the arrow as the bow yielded.

He began pulling it back, and his arms quickly began straining. The bow yielded more and began to sing. He pulled her back further as she began a heavenly chorus, with the sound of many voices. And further he pulled, now pointing the arrow straight up at grey clouds.

He heard his Mother’s voice…..his Mother who wasn’t there, yet was everywhere at once, saying, “Always use your gifts for good, never for evil…” He let the arrow fly, and the Living Bow stopped her singing….At first there was nothing yet gradually he felt a drop here, then there.

And eventually it did rain….over the scorched and dry land.

So it was true after all he thought.

He did have the gift of rain.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

The Earth Seemed Young

The earth seemed young back then, primal somehow, when I began

searching through those deep woods trails

the earth veiled in a cloak, I already knew though

the certainty of owls wings in the night

that mist will burn away,

and that the Almighty declared….

we were never alone.

We each will find our way.

Poetry and Image Copyright © 2015, revised 2021 rivers renewed

Note: Pieces here originally posted in 2015