Visions

 

The Moundville Rattlesnake Disc (Holmes 1883)

 

Eat and vomit, and let the visions begin –

of the Tree People who beckon and call from the darkest depths,

of snakes flying out of the burial pots of clay,

reciprocal cults of wandering shaman emerge

from the funeral mounds, and chant throughout the square.

The goddess blinks and smiles for you alone –

isn’t it time you dance inside of her?

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Portmeadow Kisses

 

Portmeadow, Oxford, England

The smell of her skin in Oxford showers

Her hands combing my hair at night

The taste of whisky while I look in her eyes

Her sideways smile, so fresh and silly,

Tea in the morning, singing songs at night

Serious, studious, loving, and sweet

The idea of her forest by the sea

Portmeadow kisses, indescribable blisses

Lips of fire so fierce and free

 

Simanolanoki

 

[refrain]:

Simanolanoki Flow Away

Our love is broken on your shoals

The sacred fire that burned within my heart

Like you it ebbs and flows away

 

The hawk has flown away upon the wind

The breezes carry him away

The love I gave to you in heart and song

Like the hawk has flown away

 

[refrain]

 

Now like the empty field where once we roamed

Where only broken sherds remain

My heart is empty too, unworthy muse

My love for you has flown away

 

[refrain]

 

I’ve closed the book of love I wrote for you

Odshisi carries it away

My heart is mine again to give or break

Flow, Wild River, flow away

 

[refrain 2x]

10,000 Years

The Reader cannot read
The sleeper cannot sleep
The singer cannot sing
For love of you

The dreamer cannot dream
The diver cannot dive
Except into your eyes
Ageless and green

But the poet writes your soul
And the painter paints my heart
While 10,000 years of time
Smile through the ice

And 10,000 more may come
Before such souls may meet
And I would spend them all
O muse with you

Flow into Me

Minds afire, Hearts as one

Dreams descend when Day is done,

Deep in your Soul broad rivers run

Dark is my Night, bright is your Sun;

Shadows flee when I look in your eyes,

Stars grow weak and fall from the skies,

From Fires in our Souls sparks arise,

Love makes the Magic that never dies;

You are the River, I am the Sea,

You are the Earth, I am a Tree,

My roots run deep, your Spirit flows free,

Run into You, Flow into Me.

Silent Tombs of Despair

Let yesteryear’s kisses lay hidden in the shadows of time,

For the ghosts who haunt time’s halls are silent and sad,

Though still they remember the fires and desires of love,

And they envy the fire in my heart and the flowers in your eyes;

Listen, o muse, to the song they would sing to your heart – 

Of death, who strangled their hopes, silenced their songs,

And buried their love in silent tombs of despair;

Their bones now rest ‘neath the Earth, though their shades remain, 

Chained to the places they haunted when their lips were warm;

Perhaps these spirits will awaken when you fling wide your soul,

Full of winter and storms, of springtime and sassafras tea – 

Perhaps even yesteryear’s sighs may meet with today’s

When we are the ghosts who sigh and long for one kiss,

And the poems and songs of tomorrow are sung o’er our graves.

 

Sun Dance

Walking on Sunshine, by JF, 2013

Beamin like mornin
sun on cherry blossoms, you
danced into my heart

Hargreaves Haiku

Feldhase (Field Hare), painted by Albrecht Durer in 1502

The hare jumps to hide
within the creekside thicket –
I sit on a stone

Waiting here alone
the icy wind blows my hair –
without her I’m lost

Zipping up my coat
I hike on through Burgess Field –
too damn cold for tears

The Gift of Spring

One early spring day when I was about 22, I saw a Robin Redbreast, and heard his cheery and happy call echo through the woodland and fields.  As there were no other birds to be seen at that moment, I was unprepared for what happened next.  It seemed to me that every native bird of Georgia suddenly appeared and began singing: cardinals, tufted titmice, chickadees, and all of their friends.  And it struck me then that they had all just been waiting for the herald to announce that Spring had finally arrived!  This idea filled me with such joy that within five minutes the following words had assembled themselves on the page in front of me.  It was a gift; something that flowed through me.  I have long thought of having it published, but it has languished in darkness long enough and needs to be as free as the beautiful bird of Spring that inspired it.

Song of the Robin Redbreast, Spring’s Herald

Hark! O ye beings who inhabit the earth!

Let winter’s woeful wail give way to dance and mirth!

For I the Redbreast, Herald o’ the Spring,

Throw back my head, stick out my chest, and sing:

‘Tis Spring!  ‘Tis Spring!

Let all the earth rejoice!

‘Tis Spring!  ‘Tis Spring!

Let every bird give voice!

‘Tis now time for motherhood,

That gift of greatest worth!

Sing a song of simple joys,

And sing the song of Birth!

The American Robin, Affectionately called the Robin Redbreast