.
He steams her edges
and, like stamps
on a postcard
.
she curls in the heat
falling free from the corner
of mythology
.
to be saved
by the fire
in his hands.
.
.
(c) 1993, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(a re-post, revised)
Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 1990's, tagged Deep Water, fire, freedom, Love, mythology, passion, poem, Poetry, Prometheus, stamps on June 16, 2018| 30 Comments »
.
He steams her edges
and, like stamps
on a postcard
.
she curls in the heat
falling free from the corner
of mythology
.
to be saved
by the fire
in his hands.
.
.
(c) 1993, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(a re-post, revised)
Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 1990's, tagged Deep Water, Earth, fountain, free love, freedom, life, Love, mythology, passion, poem, Poetry, volcano on September 12, 2017| 40 Comments »
.
She stifled her passion
with a bone cork
and Earth became
a rocking jug
with aching sides
and tears that leaked
through cracks
and there was naught
but a dry brown light
across the sky.
.
The gods looked down
and cursed.
They pulled loose the plug
and ground it to dust
with flying fists
until Earth trembled
and roared
its mountainous heat
into the sky
in a billowing boundless fount
of love un-damned.
.
.
(c) 1995, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 1990's, tagged Deep Water, Earth, God, Love, masks, mythology, passion, poem, Poetry, totem pole on April 19, 2017| 9 Comments »
.
He could climb
a rock-cold mountain,
guard lost lambs
on faceless cliffs
and she would circle round
to warm his earth.
.
And he could carve his image
into a totem pole
of selves
on top of selves
and she would kiss the tower
of rising heads.
.
And he could blow new colors
from his hemlock pipe
and she would paint them
on her cheeks
while he peeled back
the many masks
of God.
.
(c) 1995, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(a re-post – formerly “Biding”)
.
Posted in Deep Water, Maeberie series, Poetry 1990's, tagged castle, Excalibur, Love, Mayberrie', mythology, passion, poem, Poetry on October 1, 2016| 14 Comments »
.
Old castle rests on brambled shores
near curling leaves and browning lawn
as ivy coils through empty doors
where once his golden sword was drawn.
.
For long ago the tower stood
shaped by wind and gleaming stones
and from the chapel in the wood
they heard the bell and felt the groans
.
of lovers locked in false embrace
of thunder scavenged from the deep
where only he could show his face –
his mistress turned away to weep.
.
They could not march beyond the hill
for fate had measured out their time
and all they touched was cold and still
and none could prove there’d been a crime.
.
A dozen years but none to save
for lovers no more ring the bell.
Calla lilies crown the graves
where once an army rose and fell.
.
And now the castle sleeps on shores
near curling leaves and browning lawn
as ivy coils across the floors
where once Excalibur was drawn.
.
© 1993, 2016 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(re-post of a Mayberrie poem)
.
Posted in Poetry 1990's, tagged eternity, mythology, poem, Poetry, Sisyphus, work on August 2, 2016| 8 Comments »
.
Sisyphus knew what it meant
to push the huge mundane
up steep slopes
only to be crushed by repetition.
He avoided carpal tunnels
and somehow kept on pushing
since the mountain was still there,
and there was no free lunch, they said,
and no supper either.
His only pay was eternity
and Zeus always kept the change.
.
(c) 1996, 2016 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(a re-post from 2011)
Posted in Poetry 2010 - present, tagged cosmos, destiny, infinity, Mother/Father, mythology, poem, Poetry, purpose, spirituality, universe on November 5, 2014| 9 Comments »
.
In a great heat
Mother/Father
stir the nothingness
into boundless waves
to seed the multiverse:
.
Octave after octave
of radiance and light –
seven times seventy
explodes through the emptiness
with stars, planets, moons.
.
Life-forms rise and fall
across the infinitude,
and here and there
some find the path
to their effulgent source.
.
And those few tell their truth
in parable and allegory
hoping to teach others —
but most misunderstand
and instead create gods
forged in their own images.
.
Yet now and then
a smoldering ember
bursts into white flame
and Mother/Father smiles
as another shimmering soul
spirals home.
.
.
© 2014, 2020 Betty Hayes Albright
.
Posted in Poetry 1990's, tagged evolution, inspiration, Instinct, mountain, mythology, path, poem, Poetry, seeking, spirituality, Trees on October 1, 2014| 6 Comments »
How hard it is to see
the highest mountain for the trees
until we hear the ancient knock
of thunder sky and molten rock.
We tear away the mossy veil
that had long concealed the trail
just to find the climb is steepest
where the waterfall is deepest
and it seems we’re almost there
when we breathe the rarest air
beyond the earth, into the sun
where we learn we’ve just begun.
.
(c) 1994, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(another oldie)
Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 1990's, tagged allness, answer, consummation, Deep Water, Gaia, Love, mythology, oneness, passion, poem, Poetry, spirituality, Unity on September 15, 2014| 10 Comments »
.
She prayed to the gods,
“let me make love
to the trees in your forest”
but the gods were silent
and so she implored them again
“let me couple with the creek
that sings through your valley,
bear me up
to embrace your mountains,
cradle me down
to mate with the sea”
.
but again the gods were silent
and again she cried out
with trembling heart,
“please grant me consummation
with the universe this night!”
.
and once more
the gods were silent
but this time
they sent a man to her,
a man who had prayed
for the same.
.
(c) 1995, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 1990's, tagged Love, masks, mythology, Poetry, spirituality, totem pole on March 13, 2012| 34 Comments »
.
He could climb
a rock-cold mountain,
guard lost lambs
on faceless cliffs
and she would circle round
to warm his earth.
.
And he could carve his image
into a totem pole
of selves on top of selves
and she would kiss
the tower of rising heads.
.
And he could blow new colors
from his hemlock pipe
and she would paint them
on her cheeks
as he peeled back
the many masks
of God.
.
(c) 1995, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
Posted in Poetry 2010 - present, tagged light, mythology, noon, philosophy, spirituality, sun, transcendence on November 30, 2011| 21 Comments »
She climbed above
the addled day
beyond the spackled sky
until the sun
was all she knew.
It never rose,
nor did it set,
the world spun fast
below her now
but she no longer recognized
the frenzied bulbs
of toggled light,
the creaks
of channels switching,
no more tripping
over shadows,
no more blood
from steel spires.
Instead she heard
the muses singing,
heard the laughter
of the gods
and so she danced
a freedom tango
with a humble star
then rested
in the halo of full noon.
.
(c) 2011 Betty Hayes Albright