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inspirational poetry

Creative Writing: My Other Poetry

The Power of Now: A New Poem

The Power of Now With thanks to Eckhart Tolle. The talkers talk of leaving or remaining who should go, what cannot stay who’s right, what’s wrong where’s goodness gone. Too many old, the lawless young we’re bound to pay, we’ll come undone the planet’s doomed, the coming bomb. But yet the young never brought forth more than now the old never garnered more than now peace was never planted more than now goodness has never grown more than now and goodness knows we are as welcome as we ever were here in the presence of now And so rocked in…

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Creating Happy Holidays: A New Poem

After we’ve taken to the shops, the public houses, the clamour and glitz, we come home, step out of the swell, hole up with our howl, cradle it close, hold it still, until we can let it go out with us again, out into the cold and the frozen. Until we can let it show us how to love glamour: only as tinsel, as topping. The promise of Christmas was never a treasury. Frankinsense and myrrh came later. And as gifts. Brought to a child, into a manger, by the wise.

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A New Poem: Coming To

On my back. In the dark. Given up to night. I lie, a fool aground. A suckling. Yearning, turning in want and will, smothering in the urges of the underneath. Up there the spangled stars. The moon one quarter lit and on the wane. Hiding its hollows in its divide. And the black beyond. That dark that shades the darkness. The lacuna. Night pulls me in * Night holds me still. Night holds my wants against my will, until I am upended, and released to rise again. * Oh stars, shining in from forever ago, unfathomable in your million millions (Why…

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Two Mary Oliver Poems

I have two Mary Oliver poems I keep coming back to. Here’s one I sent to my daughter Treasure, who has a tendency to be hard on herself, and loves inspirational poetry. I dedicate it to her and all the women who do too much. That used to be me.  Not so much now.   Wild Geese by Mary Oliver Wild Geese by Mary Oliver You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love…

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Salema Moods: Three Short Poems

I. Ocean Pulse Rising, curling, foam unfurling, waves of cold Salema sea, next one coming, meet it running, plunge into the safe beneath. Avoid crashing, hard sand-smashing that could knock me to my knees. Out here holding. Look I’m floating! Blood-beat drumming in my ears. Waves keep surging, endless burgeon sent up from the darkest deeps, surface playing, breath delaying, I dive into your mystery, always saying all to me. II. Here is Where I’ve been here before but now I’m here for healing. Twice times ill with cancer and its cure here is where I’ve come. Numb beneath –…

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The Writer’s Call: A Film Poem About Why I Write

The Writer’s Call: A Poem Your words must wash the floor for love, I heard it all declare. I kissed my pen, swore this decree to air. Then set to work on bended knee, a childlike creep through house and street, to clean through what’s encrusted there. It’s done for you, kind reader, dear, who walks my words across the page, who seeks clear ground in marks I make: that glisten in your gleaning eye, that shines with mine, us both to see how in the clearing, all can be.

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