Check out Tarot Poetry, December 2024 issue for lots of poetry nourishment including new poem;
“We are the Sad Ones”
Find at http://www.tarotpoetry.nz
Take care everyone x
Category: poem of the week
original poetry posted weekly
We are the Dead
Inspired by reclusion, a year’s headlines, and the song by David Bowie.
We are the Sad Ones, silent we hold
to stones of privilege in each hand by
the cold of unreclaimable duties, we stand
human, our heroes all dead, arms too full
guts too frail to man controls.
–
The sad ones see unfolding power
ripe everywhere in everyone but not
in us, in us just articles of anger
lodge in throats, tired voices wait
for only Hope is worth negotiation.
–
We the seeing unseen, by sun unkissed
when we go to them our heroes will all
look back at us cool from the coal abyss
say inequities lisp our hubris, us Sated
Ones spill godless prayers as we fall,
–
our respects unsaid, We are the Dead.
*
Original poem by Lee Jane Taylor
Photo credit; Reign-Abarintos for Unsplash
She Is
I love the family rituals and togetherness of the holidays. However, it can also be a time when we feel absence most keenly. Sometimes the hardest time is once others return to work and school and we struggle with finding a “new normal”. If you are living with grief right now, I wish you peace and comfort. I wrote this poem for a family member, and myself, during a period of loss.
Tribute (For Poppa)
I don’t know what you believe about lives and the long
long after, when our moment is done we join the ones
we lost perhaps in some next place or become part
of the “everything-in-one”.
Wherever minds go – somewhere, nowhere –
we leave behind bones and neurones, and the sadness
of cellular silence. No more busy replicating the pattern
in them unique to her, slowly unravelling.
A sacred code repeated in the gesture of a sister’s hand
in the twinkling of a brother’s eye a pattern memorised
safely held in your heart as you go on. I don’t know
if there is memory in a soul but the atomic travels of us
we can imagine. Parts of her rejoin the earth a joyous
homecoming to quench the thirst of trees that feed
the Tui, the Chamois and the Tahr.
Where is she now? Particles of her rise to fill clouds
elements of her penetrate the gates of atmospheres
populate other worlds, warm under other suns,
older and newer to be spun through black holes
matter collapsing and exploding again, again
as radiant supernovas burning bright in the night
skies of a thousand galaxies.
Perhaps the quarks of her small enough slip
through weaves in fabrics of time and parts
of her play in past, present, future all at once
and she is already in the buds, the sepals and hips
of generous perfumed blooms of summer and their
fountains of colour she is in the velvet garden faces
of the cool months in their yellow violet petals five
she is alive as the Sunny Boy and the Moon Moth
Where is she now my lost love? we ask, the tensions
of bodily form come undone, parts of her in the leaves
and the snow, echoes in the deeds of those who hold
her close as she joins with her own elders, ancestors,
molecules unpinned from boundaries of time – she is
in every moment all at once.
Hold your hand open to the air
feel the aliveness, she dances there
she is the trees she is the rain she is the stars
she is
and she is safe –
in the repeating patterns, of our saddened hearts.
NZ Xmas in Pohutukawa, Rata, Banksia Bottlebrush
Sky House is overdue for a “Staircase” (self-care) post. However, Lee is on an unscheduled “wellness hiatus”. In the meantime, here is some poetry prettiness from the sick bed…
Your exotic horticultural brush sweeps
full my palm with feel of cats paw in
retracted claw or, sleeping arctic shrew
your petal needles like haberdashery wound tight
threads unspool to bloom, already sunseed ended
before you fire a rocket in still life you are
true scarlet make roses weep at your pebbled feet
you brighter than blood brighter than tulips
on dark leaf you can embezzle Christmas
you are ecstasy indulgence colour effulgence
of gnarly old tree, arrive to me in
young hands greedy for, generous with beauty
your botanical incarnations of buddhist
lama’s bodies of joy, undulating tassels
celebrate abundance, the one amongst
many, all your neat little bundles in rows
progeny tucked in ruby oriental hair bows
food for inspiration whisper poems: paint
compositions in each cough of wind breath
embroidered flower fluffs branches
all for nourishment and pleasure of our bell
spoken, silver watching ones velvet tongues
hungry in cooler months for foreign feasts
all to free your tiny yellow seeds
to voyage possibilities, live circularities
Pohutukawa, Rata and the only Aussie I
ever truely loved is Banksia, honeysuckle
christmas blooms as red bottle-brush.
Thank you to the beautiful Anouk for administrating this post.
Meri Kirihimete, happy holidays, and a soulful solstice to all.
Photo by Don Ricardo on Unsplash
Sky Phenomena
Cloud, storms, rain, hail flurries and
forks of lightning, star blaze and a waning
moon, comet flare and meteor streak, eclipses
occasional rainbow miracles
poetry resides in skies in vividity of light wild
rides backs of water drops sculpting
stratus scapes colour draped by sunrise
flows through eyes mild
and murkied, quiet mind, busy finger tips
dip grace in words lightly ink brink
of endless expansiveness, sense
records in finite edits this
evanescence of wilderness and minds
poetry is not mine, poetry resides in skies.
Geographies of Imagination and Memory
Minds live wide lives from the ways
of wild waters to slow mountains lumber
unimpeded, North and South grow
with each shock rumbling kick Papa’s
final progeny reaches out to arms of sky
stretching prominence into dominance
alps are spines of memory lumbar peaks
instinctive, ancestral, personal, habitual
volcanic rock of memory, all masterful
ever clumping to higher ranges craggy
scar marks of time loom taller with years
yet an ocean always surrounds in vastness
blues deeply scattered with eyes of cuttlefish
distant whales kiss breaching fountainous
under touch of sun and melting stars that
ripple drip reform in salty breaths I can run
eyes along the sky skim an alpine spine and I
can turn back anytime to the coastline
dip feet in the cool fresh of sea its endless
possibilities, where dream creatures bloom
luminescent – the sea, is moved by tides
under watchful glow of weeping satellite
but in the deep, ocean currents flow free.
Photo by Amy Humphries on Unsplash
Creative Electro-Magnetics
This week’s poem is something a little different. I’m not feeling so well so I’m posting from my “back catalogue”. This is a sample of reasoning from deep down in the depths of inflammation. Was I meditating on some truth? Was I high on Prednisone and pain killers? I will let you decide… Hopefully, someone finds it interesting! Next self-care post will be Principles of Journalling – Take care x
Photo by Michał Mancewicz on Unsplash
Creative Electrics
The words unstick
sadness come undone
to a numbing succumb
unmoving heart.
Sweet trickle
twist missed
bidding unrest this
Arctic Pole
demagnified in chest.
Hunts for fastness
thoughts sharp bladed
memory’s arrows
– set to heart’s churn
electrifies creation.
A sadness intent
cleansed and wrung
a well without
and within
re-sprung.
Strangest alchemy
of creativity –
electric motion
tuned through lonely
magnetic heart
imaginal energies
sparked,
satisfaction come.
Love Blooms
In our house love is shaped by folds
a proliferation of origami in spring cherries
blossoms on walls
love is drawn in small blue cups
stamps of affection float in foam
atop carefully wrought delicate textures
it is spelled in gestures
timed by close watching eyes olive green
with deft reach out by warm arms
after sharp words fly, miss and circle round
balanced in the elegant proofing of a formula
X = (1+ 1) 3 Y + (1+2)
where Y is the pattern of a favourite song
music being an equation played
the solution already known
love blooms, coloured by little hands
won’t hold still long for word sculpting
tendrils creep into wilds out gates we will
always leave open.
Spring is in full swing in the Southern Hemisphere. It is wonderful to finally feel some sunshine on bare unmasked faces here in the Sth Island of Aotearoa, NZ. I hope everyone in this part of the world is taking some time to enjoy the blossoms and blooms – both literal and metaphorical!
Take care x
Photo by Artyom Kulikov on Unsplash
The Company of Trees
Days like these the facelessness of trees
is all I want – to see the crowd fade
eyes that roll in sockets, jaws that jabber
complicated symmetries of brows and noses
can all fade into the doesn’t matter.
I only want to talk
with the faceless heads of trees
– the way they hold up proud
against skies green manes flare on blue
delicate lace of arboreal tentacles
let to drift in wind. Their bodies are
solidity all the time standing their ground
in consecrated symbiosis with this earth here
a relationship tended in leafy sacrament
season after season. There is wisdom
in the faceless ways of trees – somedays
their company,
is all I want or need.
Reading Suggestions
Do you too prefer the company of trees today? If you are stuck indoors but need some nurturance of mother nature – poetry has your back! Mindful reading of nature poetry is a great way to reconnect with the great outdoors. Open a window, pop on some forest or ocean sounds – and relax into some wordful nature! Here are some reading ideas to get your wilderness exploration started:
Classics: Emily Dickinson – in between romancing death and philosophising about grief, it seems Dickinson also spent a lot of time in the woods and her garden. She wrote many nature poems with wit and depth such as “There’s a Certain Slant of Light”, and “Nature is What We See”. It is “old worldly” but she keeps it crisp. Ted Hughes “The Hawk in the Rain” is a brilliantly moody poem. Mary Oliver’s long career of nature poetry (many books from 1960’s to present times) is all inspired by her daily walks in the wilderness. It is lovely gentle reading great for a sick day – I’m fond of “The Swan”. Sylvia Plath’s “The Moon and the Yew Tree” is hauntingly beautiful (and very sad). D.H. Lawrence’s collection “Birds, Beasts, and Flowers” delivers as the title promises. Modern and informal compared to his earlier works. “Snake”, the tortoise poems, and “Hummingbird” are wonderfully observant. Mary Webb was writing nature poetry at the turn of last century but it’s very accessible – it reads as classic and insightful rather than old fashioned. I love “Presences”.
Local Contemporaries: Dinah Hawkens recent book “Sea-Light”, David Eggleton known for punchy snapshots of NZ culture also gives gorgeous portraits of NZ scenery i.e. “Southern Embroidery”, “The Harbour”.
There are some great anthologies of nature poems by a variety of authors. The ones I have seen tend to be focussed on classic authors. Perhaps reflecting that nature themes were out of literary fashion in modern times. That seems to be changing with the relevance of climate change, as well as a contemporary desire to reconnect to nature.
If you have been reading some nature poetry, I would love to hear your recommendations – especially for poetry blogs.
Next “Staircase” post, I will be giving some tips on journal writing for self-care.
Lee x
Ps – apologies if you received an earlier unfinished edit of this post (interface difficulties!).
Celtic Skies
The sky is indifferent, the sky is kind
always reaching in, uninvited
with long white
cloudy fingers prising
open planks of sternum, one by one
chest rivets pop and sigh –
taste the silver and the blue
tints run, inking through time
eyes feather soft and wide
to gulls glide, natures guards
mount impartial in this space –
the sacred in between
stratosphere and ground
where
cumulus and stratus oversee proud
and free
as druids once served.
Sky House Poetry 