Sunday, June 25, 2017

Wild Woman Waves Her Freak Flag



There goes Wild Woman,
head way back, 
and grinning at the sky,
grooving on the puffy clouds
in this almost-July.

She's babbling to the crows
who are making such a din.
She's all adrift in wonder
at this miracle we're in.

She's dancing in the meadow
as she sings a wolfish song.
Some may think she's weird,
but 13 witches can't be wrong.

The blood of Wild Woman
is running through her veins.
They've tried and failed to change her;
 she's too blissfully deranged.

Don't stop her, let her frolic
with the creatures wild and free.
They know she understands them.
They are kindred. Blessed Be.

She's looking at a world
that's just as pretty as you please.
There goes Wild Woman grinning,
freak flag waving in the breeze.


for Magaly's Beautiful Freaks Fest. I couldn't let a beautiful freak fest go by!

TONQUIN BEACH WITH EAGLES II


Today was the lowest tide of the year
and we got to see parts of the beach
we normally can't get to.


I have been stalking this tree for 20 years,
as it's only able to be photographed 
at a very low tide.





I was quite a distance away from this fellow, 
behind some rocks, not to disturb him. 


I used my zoom to catch him
eating some beach buffet.


Two people were standing too close to him,
and he startled and RAN to the edge of the water,
then flew off. I couldn't focus quickly enough 
to catch any of that, unfortunately.



Friends exclaiming over a live sand dollar.


Sand dollar in residence


There is a lot of life on the beach:



...things growing......


kelp.....


sea grass.......



starfish,  anemones......



olive shells......


mussells......



clams.....


crab........

No wonder the eagle flew down from his perch:




That is a nest beneath him,
at this time apparently inactive.



Tonquin, at low tide.....


....with memories.


Saturday, June 24, 2017

WOLF MUSIC


Collage by my friend, Steve,


When he died,
somewhere in the mountains,
a grey wolf pointed 
her muzzle to the sky
and howled.
Others joined her,
until the mountainside 
was alive
with wolf music,
echoing through the dark trees
under the moon.

Ever since,
an invisible black shadow
has been silently
dogging my steps.
Though his song is stilled,
I carry his music
in my heart.


....and a river of tears, as well. Sharing this poem from December, 2016  with the Poetry Pantry at Poets United, where there is always good reading on a Sunday morning. Come join us.

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

SUNFLOWER HEARTS IN A TOXIC RAIN WORLD



I make salutation to the day,
raise my arms up to the sky,
bow and do a downward dog.
as the morning gifts my eye.

The world is beautiful today
as far as I can see.
Yet icebergs melt and oceans warm,
the forests burn and creatures flee.

Yoga helps me breathe,
the forest tries to keep me calm.
I try to love what is,
before more of it is gone.

For we are sunflower hearts
in a toxic rain world,
trying to hold onto hope,
keep our petals all unfurled.

We dig our roots down deep,
we turn our faces to the sun,
but ground and air are poisoned.
There's not enough for everyone.

I cannot let go of hope,
must keep my petals all unfurled,
for we are sunflower hearts
in a toxic rain world.


written for Sumana's Midweek Motif prompt at Poets United: Yoga.


Saturday, June 17, 2017

The Distress of All Creatures: Warning: Disturbing to animal lovers

Captain, Vancouver, B.C.


On the news, I see them
wheel you out:
beaten, defeated German Shepherd,
intense suffering in your eyes.
And my heart stops.
I have to turn the tv off.
I cannot bear
that some messed up human
has taken his anger out
on you, defenseless boy.

Oh, Captain! My Captain!
The world is cruel.

The second part of this story
is that the same man
just killed his mother.

On the same newscast,
Wolf Number Two
has been killed on our coast.
Skinny, hungry, in search of food,
he wandered into "our" territory
and paid with his life.

And Site C dam in the Peace
will not be re-routed around
First Nations gravesites.
It should not be built at all,
but capitalism only knows
one way forward, has
only one bottom-line.

One needs to be fortified
with protection, these days,
to watch the evening news.

Oh, Captain, your suffering face,
those pain-filled eyes,
the face of all the suffering
of all the innocents of this world,
brings me to tears.


Four years ago, Captain the German Shepherd was beaten viciously and left for dead by his mentally ill "owner". He was still alive when responders wheeled him out. They tried to save him. It was shown on the news again last night  because the same man has now been charged with murdering his mother.

It's getting so my heart can't take the pain of the nightly news. Especially when it comes to animals, who are at our mercy. And we have so little of it to give.


source: CBC News



Tuesday, June 13, 2017

The Power of Ten




The intricately intelligent
composition of the universe,
traveling outwards
to the power of ten,
then traveling inwards, 
to the tiniest cell of the smallest atom,
tells me
there is not one system,
whether human or non-human, 
creature of land, air or sea,
animal, vegetable or mineral, 
that is not worthy of being studied 
with awe and fascination.

From the smallest earthly weed,
to the farthest galaxy,
we inhabit
a universe of wonder.

If we truly thought about it,
we would all be walking around
with mouths agape, exclaiming:
See that? 
Oh, my goodness!
Have you ever.,.....??????

The world is
just
that beautiful.


for Sumana's prompt at Midweek Motif, at Poets United : Seeing the Extraordinary in the Ordinary. For me there is not one thing that is not extraordinary, when one gives one's attention to it : stars, starfish, seahorses, blades of grass, eyeballs, legs, trees that breathe out what we breathe in. The root system of trees mirrors the pattern of a woman's uterus, when she is carrying life. We are closer to trees in our DNA than we ever stop to think. And it is the male seahorse who gives birth. Imagine that!

It is all the most marvelous and interdependent design - indicating, to me, that a Supreme Intelligence - God, by whatever name you wish to call that over-arching spirit - must be behind it all. It is too intricately interrelated to be random, in my opinion.

Saturday, June 10, 2017

Puppy Dog Hearts and Hope

My granddog, Cali, on the beach


I am made of puppy dog hearts
and soft silver moons,
blue skies and the song of the sea,
wrinkled dreams and
threadbare hope,
fatigue and
rich remembering.

I am made of ancestral stories
told by hearth fires,
ancient drumbeats, prophecy,
and visions of a
Rainbow Race, arising.

And i am made of
lost love and wolf howls,
forest wilderness
and birds singing
the morning in.

All of these songs
make their home in me.
I perch on the limb
of my inner tree
and repeat them
to you.


for Magaly's prompt at Real Toads: I am made of, in 131 words, or fewer.......I used 89.

Sharing with the Poetry Pantry at Poets United this sunny Sunday morning.