A poem snuck up on me today, tapped me on my shoulder,
whispered in my ear,
as if hawk’s breath
would made it stronger,
I felt the shifting,
the surprise of a small piece
of light,
the shaping of words and phrases
from my heartflow,
the mystical creation
of poetry.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
Note: My break is working! I will post 2-3 times a week for now. Thank you so much for reading!
I find the universe in My Love’s eyes,
the earth,
the oceans
and skies.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
Silver threads of the lake at dawn,
with whispers of deliverance
to awaken,
to transform the grey
to a startling blue,
and the beginning
of birdsong.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
Perhaps it was the Lakota Song drifting over him, whispering in the middle of the night, when he was a child, a sound of singing,
blessing his dreams, from the tall grass…..that soul filling call, to touch the clouds, whispering in his ear, in his heart, the core of who he was.
He could always write the river, so maybe that’s why he was born loving the colors of our earth, with prayer feathers,
and wild horses running strong. It was poetry, after all.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
Note: I was born in the desert, not far from the Rocky Mountains.
We were too far south though, to hear the Lakota Song.
We are made from many streams, aren’t we? pieces of a larger river twisting
through open fields, our lives as a meadow thirsting, for nourishment, with wildflowers….
calling forth the sun, to the mud on the shoreline, we sense, we learn our direction,
becoming the very grain we dream about, and allowing the wind to gently move
through us, in the fields.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
Note: This may sound mystical but it’s actually about our hearts and whatever faith life we have.
And I felt those words as I turned the pages,
the same as when I stood on the mountain
gazing,
what flows in my spirit
like the wind messing up my hair?
I do think if I was Native American
or First Nations my name would be,
Standing on the Mountain,
and I would be there often
shaping words
into poems and prayers.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies.
My heart fills with poetry when I think of love,
my spirit seeks the peace
of healing in the earth,
and sky
always acknowledging,
the One who made us all.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
Sunlight gently danced on wind tossed leaves, as he made his way into the cool calmness of the forest,
the safety of the earth awaiting. And in knowing the trail, his spirit was always refreshed.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
In our grey of isolation green plants and blue skies
become our relatable, our tangible treasure
so that these frames of ours
these empty shells we live in,
can be filled
with who we really are
and the beauty
from the earth and sky.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
When the green things grow, our vision is expanded,
recalling our victories instead
of scars, as forests
are born again,
and each flower
fills us
with a sense of hope
and strength.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
