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Posts Tagged ‘poem’

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She dares to rise

through molten rock

cutting loose

from the unforgiving core

of gravity

free of the burning bush

and the howl of the tempest.

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Into the open sky she flies

past moon and sun,

the spin of stars

beyond the fabled edges

of the cosmos

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until no longer up or down

nor right or left

she spirals forth

into the numinous arms

of the Beloved.

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© 2020, 1976  Betty Hayes Albright 

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(A revised version of an old poem from 1976.)

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Pecking poppy seeds

chickadee does not see me.

Old cat sees us both.

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(c) 2020  Betty Hayes Albright

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Image from Pexels.com

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Little garden pond

longs to be round as the sky —

Moon reflects on that.

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(c) 2020  Betty Hayes Albright

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(Image from copyright free source in 2012)

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On the walls

of the Great Divine

our soul-prints adorn

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all-ways expanding

ever creating

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for we are the artists

and we are the beholders

and we are the curators

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in kaleidoscope halls

beyond the reaches of time.

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(c) 2020  Betty Hayes Albright

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Carnival

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On waves of teal sea-shine

we catch a glossy ride

to chase our lost horizons

and race the rising tide.

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We lean to gather white-caps

and taste their salty plumes

till purple weaves a blanket

and wraps us ’round the moon.

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(c) 1992, 2020  Betty Hayes Albright

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Eternity came calling

on me one day

with her childlike face

and her kind, ancient eyes.

She laughed at the way

I danced to the ticking

of a mere clock

and said in a voice

that tinkled like moon chimes,

 

“Come let me show you

the land of Right Now,

a place that’s free

from the chains of your time.

It’s a world where the sun

shines from truth’s eye

and the smile on my face

will fill you with peace.”

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I followed a minute

but then a loud whistle

stopped me in my tracks.

Tomorrow perhaps —

it was noon in the valley

and I would be late.

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I headed downhill

but turned to look back

at her beauty once more

and found she had vanished

into Everywhere.

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(c) 2020, 1969, 1965  Betty Hayes Albright

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Written in high school, 1965. Published in chapbook “Living Color”, 1976; previously posted here in 2014.

This is a newly revised version. I guess it’s about time! 😄

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He liked two things

when he came to our house:

his Buzz Lightyear placemat

and the scent

of Jergens cherry-almond

by the sink.

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          We judge the addict

          who will do anything

          for his next fix.

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The last time he came

he was 16

and we had pizza

and he wanted to use

the worn-out placemat

for old time’s sake.

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          We look down, look

          away,

          close our eyes.

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He said he was reading

The Catcher in the Rye –

a favorite of mine, I told him

as he was leaving.

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             We pretend that we don’t see –

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             until it’s our own grandson

             who dies of an overdose

             and our hearts break apart.

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When he is gone

I wash my hands

breathing his presence

in the scent

of Jergens cherry-almond

by the sink.

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           We don’t always recover

           from the underlying condition

          of being young

          and oh so invincible.

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© 2020  Betty Hayes Albright

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(This is about my dear grandson Jacob who died last March at the age of 24.)

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pink poppy 2020

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Dance little poppy,

bow to ev’ry little breeze —

sunshine lands on all.

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(c) 2020  Betty Hayes Albright

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(Photo taken last week. We had a lot of orange California poppies…this was the only pink one. I love ’em all. 💕)

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P.S. I just realized, today is my 9th anniversary on WordPress!!  Thank you to the many dear friends I’ve met here over the years.)

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Come meet me

in the secret garden

living green

and dancing yellow,

join the bees

and beg their pardon

where the hive

grows sweet and mellow.

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Free of fear

and saved from doom

let us dance

in yonder meadow

where the wild ones

stand and bloom –

spare the truth

and spoil the credo.

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Oh my love,

let’s long abide –

dance the tango

free from care.

Meet me

on the other side –

unloose your heartstrings,

take the dare.

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© 2020  Betty Hayes Albright

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Forty years ago today – May 18th, 1980 – Mount St. Helens erupted in Washington State, killing 57 people, including one of my dearest friends, her husband, and her two young children. Most of those who died were camping in the supposed “safe zone” around the mountain. No one imagined that the volcano would explode sideways to the north, ending the lives of those who thought they weren’t in danger. (100 miles away in the Seattle area we heard two explosions, like sonic booms.)

Barb was always full of laughter, always saw the funny side of life. The poem below was written shortly after her death.  (This is a re-post.)

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Mount St. Helens erupted on May 18, 1980, at 0...

Mount St. Helens on May 18, 1980

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(In memory of Barbara Pierce Morris Seibold, 1947 – 1980)

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You laughed above the heads

of those who couldn’t see

your wings,

but those of us with vision

always flew along with you.

Even in the rain

you’d soar above the mud

with a smile and a wink.

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But just this once

your takeoff was too slow —

St. Helens grabbed you

in her smoky claws

and with one spicy belch

she burned your wings away….

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I found a bird

the cat brought in,

buried it

in forget-me-nots,

then heard your laughter

rise from the dust

and fly

to the curlicue clouds.

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(c)1980, 2020 Betty Hayes Albright

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