Is
An
Ancient
Art
Listening
Is
A
Subtle
Lifeline
A
Whispered
Breath
Survival
Bell
Listen
Is
An
Ancient
Art
Listening
Is
A
Subtle
Lifeline
A
Whispered
Breath
Survival
Bell
All posts by fhaedra
Is
An
Ancient
Art
Listening
Is
A
Subtle
Lifeline
A
Whispered
Breath
Survival
Bell
Poem
Poem God
Poem Goddess
Poem Spirit
Poem Breath
Rising with wind
Riding upon waves enroute to sky
I sat upon the earth and built this thing for you.
Bees
Fortune arrives to those who expect it
Who said that, asks the one still waiting
Bees forfeit sunlit blossoms to suckle a blank wall instead
What made sense yesterday leaves a smudge for us to ponder
A circle is unending like a fortress of safety forever watchful
But through a new jaded pair of eyes a circle is a prison
From which only the secretive and most cunning may manage escape
Tunnelling through ages of rotted ideas and misguided plans
Breathing shallow so as to avoid disease by the effort
Believe in change, the mantra humming in their heaving chests
Through filth and squalor a sliver of light hints at silver
Bees circle upon walls, forfeiting temptation’s blossoms
Allowing either conspicuous gaps or innocuous bee suckling spaces
Readying themselves for the new age where winged things flourish
Where honey is the preferred currency
Puzzle
Sun after long days of rain and I
stood close to pots overflowing with new open blossoms
Admiring
But the shapes scattered across the steps were what I photographed
Wondering how these pieces fit together
Gratitude
Big sky
Serenity clouds
Moments of still
Eagle content
This quiet watching
Canada Day
Arriving Almost Ready
I tune to the sound of wings
Hummingbird suckling geranium in sunlight
I do not like this book I am reading
Grateful for content that distracts
I am sitting in an uncomfortable chair
Obscured by holly leaves
This morning augmented with sculpted sacred stand ins
I dreamed last night of returning
Red flannel shirt faded jeans brown laces ankle boots
I pushed my desk inside lines
Conformity or belonging
A woman’s forever home now inhabited by strangers
I saw old hazel eyes as we were children
Singing the same song
John Lee’s Boom Boom
Right melody wrong lyric
Inhale rhythm resist lure
I am sitting still looking
Metres from maybe inches
I plant these red ones for her
Favourites
She mapped a meticulous design
Imagination Manifest these shapes
I arrive as if for a benefit
She falls from a ladder
Over there where the concrete is so unforgiving
I yield no sadness yet water flows free from these eyes
Presence is
I begin to understand
Or succumb
Krishnamurti on education
A Christening
Watchful watching watcher
The Flood
Once there was
Absence
Now screens rain
Abundance
What will become
of these rivers
whose content spills
Flooding every field
With Poetry?
Stairway
Eight steps to drifting
No return no ticket home
Give in to the sky
