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 Poetry 2010 - present, tagged ancient, dancing, green, names, nature, poem, Poetry, totem pole, Trees on January 27, 2014| 9 Comments »
.
.
You call me tree
but what is that to me?
My name is green
in the summer
when the zephyr fondles me.
In winter
I am bare-branch
dancing against a fat sky.
I am home to tiny things
you choose not to see.
I am ancient
unless you chop me down
with your ax
and turn me into wall
or chair
or totem pole.
I like that one
for then you see
my many faces
and I see all of yours
and someday
when you look
the other way
I shall name you.
.
© 2014, 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
.
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Seasonings 