March 20, 2012

poem 88 of a poem a day for 2012



this is Love,Ostara 

what changelings 
we are at times
rooting each moment 
we pause in
as if flowering vines 
curled in the mends
that tender a tendril  
reach for more 
in the scents
of climbing 
and breaking 
glass every time
like waves
on the shore

these days 
that herald 
each turn
each rhyme
looking closely
to where my
far away eyes 
wear seeded begins
bleeding thin walls 
that melt denials
into exhales 
and moans

the questions 
that linger
tracing your 
bare skin 
with my finger
as you sleep in 
are the koans
that are not meant
for answers
but rather
they are
to be the slow
tranquil blades
the mindful curves
the heart-tills
of my soul
as each breath
that plowshares
each leap
of faith
into my
dark loams
goes deeper
into the fire
into the
spark forest
of smile
that births
my poems


EJR (c)

7 comments:

  1. This feels primal and very personal to me--the place you write from--the birthing corner--Loved this

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  2. The run of the words down the page is like a long exhaled sigh--of content, or perhaps anticipation. Love the imagery in this, and the tight language, down to a stream of consciousness resolution that is surely more transcendent than subordinate.

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  3. Love the pic, nice to find a place where you muse gives birth the your poems, keep that fire burning.

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  4. wow that last stanza in particular is really nice...the cascade of words just pulls you along ...and those questions, the blades, they carve nice poetry for you...smiles....

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  5. Fantastic! Loved the way the words ran down the page... running out of breath as they went... really well done!

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  6. This poem really does contain all and more! Such beauty is bought forward in an inspiring manner, just wonderful!

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