A beautiful poem, written and spoken by beloved peace worker Carolyn Pogue. Galaxy image from pixabay.com
Tag: prayer
notions 1: bird song
crows, gulls, and those little guys who fly so fast crank and marfle on about topics well outside boxes, wheelhouses, bailiwicks my languages stake out; they might be talking about territory, it’s the one thing we are sure they do; over my head, some sort of fellow with a voice like a movie sound-effect –…
Journey Prayer, the Video!
My first experiment with video poems… seems like a good time to revisit a prayer for all travelers…
Journey Prayer, the Video!
My first experiment with video poems… seems like a good time to revisit a prayer for all travelers…
Yevshan, a song goes on singing
now take the sage — yevshan — now breathe it in yevshan yevshan you call from it a story of your own people far away an eastern light, far grasslands yevshan yevshan yevshan your silver leaves bend shining slight arms embrace the wind your sharp breath breaks the bonds of winter roots endure and flourish…
For My Mother
April 17: Nocturne: Tiny Now She is tiny now, my mother and jokes in the morning, when her teeth aren’t in, how she whistles like a little bird. And i want to reach back to the nights when she brought the piglets in laid them in the woodstove oven so tiny, but she believed in…
1998:Release
it’s 1998 i have a theatre company now i wrote a grant, three years’ worth start up funding then had to hire people now have to train them it will be a wild ride it already is but the drama will increase off-stage outstrips onstage such is arts life. today, though, we are at the World’s…
1995:Into the Valley
1995 dream into the valley stop and light sage on a bony hill pray for this time to come to get safely home you have no idea how many will fall suicide drugs house fires murder all down there in green sunshine sonora’s north dream
1988: Para Empezar
it was 1988 the morning after a thunderstorm that washed part of the mountainside down i caught my first sight of Ajijic. my plane arrived late, and the first i knew of Mexico was rich tropical air, and then, the white-painted waists of roadside trees in the heavy, sub-tropical night. i woke in a room…
Haunted by I Love You
I will never forget finding the page where somebody wrote, ‘I LOVE YOU! That’s WHAT MATTERS!’ with a small broken heart drawn beside it. It hurt, physically, to see that, because i could feel how that writer felt, and the hopelessness of that being the only way that writer felt safe to declare his/her feelings….
Prairiepomes 