Posted in Poetry 1990's, tagged Compost, Earth, Gaia, Gardening, nature, poem, Poetry, rose, spirituality, transformation on August 10, 2017| 28 Comments »
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She burrows under
leaves and twigs
slides past thorn
and nettle
chews through
her own roots
to mate with worms
where the soil is dark
and sweet.
Earth fills her ears
with lullabies
and she sleeps
sealed
in tomorrow’s rose.
.
(c) 1992, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
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(a re-post)
Posted in Poetry 2010 - present, tagged birthday, Children, death, grief, immortality, life, music, nature, parenthood, poem, Poetry, son, spirituality, wind chime on July 28, 2017| 40 Comments »
.
.
I hear it sing
through the kitchen window
your old wind chime
its long weathered pipes
clanging across the wetlands
echoing up the hillside.
You wave to me now
smiling
from the crest
of a mighty gale
roaring through the heavens
and away.
.
© 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(For my late son Arlie, who would be turning 45 on July 29th)
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Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 1990's, tagged answer, consummation, Deep Water, Love, nature, passion, poem, Poetry, shaman, spirituality, Unity on July 26, 2017| 12 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 once more she cried out
with trembling heart,
“grant me consummation
with the universe this night!”
And once more
the gods were silent
but this time
they sent to her
a shaman,
one who was desiring
the same.
.
(c) 1995, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
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(a re-post)
Posted in Poetry 2010 - present, tagged destiny, enlightenment, flowers, Gaia, Mother Nature, nature, poem, Poetry, spirituality, sun, surrender on July 23, 2017| 11 Comments »
.
Tight-clenched bud
lets go
its knotty grip
and rigid reveries
.
yields its petals
to the pull
of sunlight
through the trees
.
all the while
Gaia smiles
and sends for
honeybees.
.
(c) 1977, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
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Posted in Haiku and Senryu, Poetry 2010 - present, tagged fairies, moon, nature, opal, poem, Poetry, senryu, sunset on June 24, 2017| 23 Comments »
.
.
Moon like an opal
hanging from a coral thread
veiled by fairy clouds.
.
(c) 2013, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
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(re-post, revised; photo from 2013)
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Posted in Poetry 1990's, tagged compassion, connection, diet, food, life, mindfulness, nature, poem, Poetry, source on June 19, 2017| 21 Comments »
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We are tuna fish
breathing the sea,
oblivious to mayo and toast.
.
We are cocoa
in the hot southern bean,
our proof is not yet in the pudding.
.
We are tomato
bulging acid in red sun,
unsuspecting the BLT.
.
We are lettuce leaf
photosynthesized,
ignorant of a thousand islands.
.
We are potato,
white jewel buried in soil
unconscious of sour cream and chives.
.
We are yeast,
multiplying dark spaces
waiting to be kneaded.
.
(c) 1996, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
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(a re-post)
Posted in Poetry 1990's, tagged birth, Earth, Gaia, gardener, Gardening, growth, labor of love, midwife, nature, poem, Poetry, seedlings on June 17, 2017| 12 Comments »
.
She searches for a pulse
her fingers kneading earth
beneath rocks and stones
to reach the heart of Gaia.
There she rides the quake
of nature’s first womb
lifting her face
to catch the genesis
of sun and rain
wind
and moon
till seedlings birth
their promises.
Labor replete
she bows her head
and the gods kiss the dirt
beneath her nails.
.
(c) 1992, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(a re-post)
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Photo originally used with permission of Jason in 2012 at http://loveuniversallove.wordpress.com/
