.
.
The day
we peel away
the tentacles of belief
will be the day
we discover
that unwavering ray
of truth.
.
.
© 2020 Betty Hayes Albright
.
Posted in just a scribble, meditation, Poetry 2010 - present, tagged belief, meditation, misinformation, poem, Poetry, Ray, spirituality, transformation, truth on November 18, 2020| 25 Comments »
.
.
The day
we peel away
the tentacles of belief
will be the day
we discover
that unwavering ray
of truth.
.
.
© 2020 Betty Hayes Albright
.
Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 1990's, tagged Deep Water, dreams, hope, Love, passion, pearls, poem, Poetry, sorrow, transformation on March 24, 2018| 18 Comments »
.
He shells
those cornered dreams
that rub us raw
secreting love
around torn edges
polishing
with his own tears
pearls of poetry.
.
.
(c) 1995, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(Re-posted from 2012)
Posted in Poetry 2010 - present, tagged Arlie, death, grief, heart failure, loss, Love, pendant, poem, Poetry, seagull, son, spirituality, transcendence, transformation on September 7, 2017| 80 Comments »
.
.
I wear the old necklace
a gift from my son
.
he tells me
to stop saying
if only and should’ve
.
he bought it
with his pizza money
.
it was nobody’s fault
he says.
I want to believe
.
his heart was young
and vital then
.
he would’ve hated
the hospital with all
those tubes and machines
.
whenever I wore it
he was proud and happy
.
the coroner said
it was probably quick
which was a blessing
.
like a pewter seagull
soaring.
.
.
© 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
Posted in Poetry 1990's, tagged Compost, Earth, Gaia, Gardening, nature, poem, Poetry, rose, spirituality, transformation on August 10, 2017| 28 Comments »
.
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
.
(a re-post)
Posted in Poetry 2000 - 2009, tagged change, light, New Mexico, poem, Poetry, purification, spirituality, storm, transcendence, transformation on June 12, 2015| 10 Comments »
.
.Have you felt
the torrent coming
churning in your marrow
from the very nuclei
deep within your cells?
It bursts into a howling, spinning,
flooding storm of waves
crashing so hard
on the rocks
that sparks fly,
the wind flames
with tongues of heat
that reach the sun
hungry, licking, feeding,
until there’s nothing left
but a belly full of light.
.
© 2001, 2015 Betty Hayes Albright
.
Photo taken by my son, Jason Judd,
as he flew over New Mexico recently.
Posted in haiku or senryu, Poetry 2010 - present, tagged generosity, haiku, nature, poem, Poetry, spirituality, sun, transformation, Tree, wood on October 4, 2014| 5 Comments »
.
Split wood glows at dusk
releasing its inner sun
giving to the end.
.
© 2014 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(Fuzzy photo taken Sept. 2014 – gotta get a new camera. Or a new photographer.)
Posted in Poetry 1960's, tagged black and white, colors, joy, Love, Poetry, sadness, spring, transformation on February 20, 2012| 36 Comments »
. (from 1966 – age 19)
.
At first I lived in black and white,
the nights were dark, the days were light
and in between there was a grey
that hardly changed from day to day.
.
Laughter sprang from shallow seas,
my tears were trivialities.
I walked on by and couldn’t bear
the colors burning everywhere.
.
But then one spring the blue-bells tolled
of leaves in green and suns in gold,
of hearts that pulsate ripe and red,
love burst in rainbows ‘bout my head!
.
(c) 1966, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(It’s not quite spring yet, but it’s coming! 🙂 )