In the Poet’s Heart

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In the poet’s heart we hold the light dancing with colors

filling our phrases shaping,

guiding, directing the surge of words

through us

the intensity into our pens,

confident.

And in our decreasing

we seek a river

or an ocean

dolphins playing in the waves

to fill us

once again.

     

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2016, revised 2020, ancient skies

As I Looked Up

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As I looked up the wind had ceased, yet the heavens roared,

until the storm clouds had been defeated,

so too our spirits battle

for peace in a frightened

and fractured world.

A gentle rain will return,

as the sun once again

declares the victory,

with a peaceful flow

streaming

across the sky.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Messenger in the Woods

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I was in prayer, walking deep into the woods that day, when I caught a glimpse of light out of the corner of my eye.

I stopped and noticed a shape fading in and out, a man dressed in the clothing of the First People.

Sea shells and talons hung dangling from his shoulders. Two feathers were tucked in his head,

tilted a certain way, which told me he was both a warrior and a messenger.

Was that a bird in his hands? When he raised his hands a set of wings was released, as he chanted blessings to the sky.

A strong wind began blowing through my hair, when I knew a strong peace had filled me, from the most ancient of times.

He was gone in a peel of thunder…..and I knew the Creator had spoken,

in a way

I could understand.

      

Writing and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Birdsong Awakens

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Birdsong awakens the forest renewed, leaves surge

and I sense a new blood now

in my veins,

I pause

with my pen flashing,

the wordflow shifting

from the colder air.

I hold the moment

breathing phrases,

hopefully forming….

a poem

from my spirit.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Note: I know it is a little early for spring, but I’m in that mindset now.

On the Third Day

20191019_103711I was in prayer on the third day having been summoned by the mountain,

I began to climb the steep path but it was nothing but rocks and pitfalls, so battered and bruised

I hurried, realizing we needed to defeat the crows, keep them from filling the pine trees,

so bluejays could build their nests……and spring would come to us this year……finally and at last.

               

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Note: The term third day here, means the third day of the week, which is Tuesday. This is fiction.

Born of Our Heartsong

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In our essence deep within, our spirit moves, shifts

our vision of who we are,

as we search for the healing

and acceptance

we have always longed for.

Wordflow begins,

something of a poem,

something of a prayer

or are they the same?

And we see poems begin,

born of our heartsong.

       

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies