At One – The Mountain

Conversations with Earth Mother

The mountain
absorbs people’s language
heard from a distance,
and sounds merge in a tapestry
of murmurs and mutterings –

“It’s just as well,”
I say to myself
as the hawk flies above,
Flying with the wind,
seeming free-flight
in widening arcs –

I enter the dialogue
space of vastness, and
merge with the various
silent rhythms and
shapes along the trail –

Occasional scurrying creatures
punctuate the wind’s silence up here,
Reaching bushes and plants
sway slowly as if in water:
mesmerizing landscape,
Sea of Tranquility –

Note: Perhaps we could say that all life has always been One on our Blue Pearl called Earth.  It is truly obvious in our time, but is our technology taking us into our sacred Oneness or is it taking each to an alien-nation.  It’s a choice; it’s perhaps the choice.  We come from the Oneness and we all return to this Oneness.  Being on the mountain this morning, gives me clarity on my rootedness in this Spirit Reality.

The Vehicle and Meaning of Poetry for Me

Why am I inspired to write poetry? Why choose this particular genre and media? That’s a good question when poetry often requires some intent listening or reading over in order to get what the poet is saying. My poems may not just be saying something directly. Maybe some get it right away; others may not.

Poetry for me has been something that flowed easily as I write, usually arising from an experience, a feeling state, or maybe an image that occurred to my imagination, trying to put it into words, images, metaphors to hopefully connect to another.

My poetry is more about this experience and using the poetic form and image to convey this as best I can. It’s a deepening and unfoldment of perspective. It’s communicating the mystery, depth, and spirit of life rather than giving a factual interpretation or a prose like account of experience. This deepening of reality is about walking in beauty as the Native Americans understand it. It’s about dancing with language rather than walking straightway with it.

I prefer to write in free verse, which often takes me to a place deeper and more insightful than where I was when starting the poem. The poem, I think, unfolds of its own accord. I try to stay non-judgmental. The reader or listener can make up their own mind to connect or not. Though I would enjoy feedback or commentary, I know I don’t control what others may or may not resonate with in my writings. I just want to express the feelings and the images – and that’s a good feeling in itself – I let go of any expectations.

Comments: What kind of poetry appeals to you?

Favorite poet?  Favorite poem?

The Chalk Butterfly


On this evening’s walk,
the chalk butterfly is gone.
The rain has washed it away,
leaving only an abstraction of colors.

On previous walks in the park,
on the sidewalk by the water.
I’d noticed this
beautiful chalk butterfly
drawn in bright pastel colors.
Probably drawn by a little girl –
boys don’t draw butterflies,
at least I didn’t in boyhood.

I posed this question:
Is life like this chalk butterfly?
Is my life like that?

I’ve had moments
of great clarity,
sensualness, and vividness
that touched my being,
and then they didn’t linger.

Still, the image lingers.
I have been there in
the moment visited by beauty –
It has touched my being.

There will be more
moments like this,
and then they will fade –

And I will walk on,
holding this question
and this beauty
in my heart

See the light, shapes, colors, textures. 

Be aware of the silent presence of each thing. – Eckhart Tolle

Childhood Speculations on the Universe

Starry Night

The universe is like a doughnut,
the stars are in the wrinkles,
and they look like little sprinkles –

Or is the universe more like a muffin,
where all the energy looks like nothin’?
But when I look above
I see the universe is made of love –

Don’t we all live in the Universe at every moment?

Symphony of Possibility

Autumn Forest Path

Breakthrough into today’s
symphony of sounds before meaning –
stepping into the forest –

The deep rich shades of green,
brown, and flower’s colors –
Soprano whining of dive-bombing flies –
Startling electric whirring
of levitating humming birds,
strange intermittent beats,
xylophonic tones,
wood striking stone underfoot –

This morning has become
a symphony of possibility
to play in –

Where have you found freedom and possibility?

On the Purpose of Art

Craggy Gardens Trail

The Navajos have a saying
that the purpose of art is
“to beautify the world”.

On the face of it,
this does not sound
so different from the function
of art in the West. Yet,
pleasure for the senses
is only one dimension,
and by no means the most important,
of what Navajos understand
by making the world beautiful.

Beauty, rather, means balance,
the proper order of things.
Its affirmation or its restoration
implies that society,
the natural and the supernatural
environment, and the individual
are in the normal state of health and harmony

Teachings from the American Earth –
Indian Religion and Philosophy

Edited by Dennis and Barbara Tedlock

Silent Desert Vista


Mountains in autumn
pushed up from time before time

Splashes of green
on ascending rising uneven peaks
of browns and black and sand

Jagged blue sky placed above
as if in a set –

Truck goes jogging, puttering by
on road behind,
forged red steel with painted
blue & white driver

Cascading wave-like sound –
Another car passing
in the opposite direction

“I should be content to look at a mountain for what it is
and not as a comment on my life.” – David Ignatow