Saturday, November 25, 2006

Inner Poet

My inner poet is French.
Tipped beret and Mona Lisa smile. Her voice rings out with playful laughter, her arms wide open, leaping into darkness and light. She is beautiful and earnest. Seductive and serious.
She was born on the wings of angels and birthed out of pain and suffering.
I recognize her in the first morning light by the gentle shores of the sea. She is bathed in God’s fragrance and surrounded by belief.

What does this inner poet know for sure?
She is light. She is dark. Complete and unfinished. A creature of God. A glorious paradox.
This poet lives hidden from sight. Covered in blue scarves and white. Peeking through the window and knocking on the door. She lives at home inviting others to come and sit by her fire.

Her imagination is infinite. She dreams of knowing and being known, of embracing and being embraced. She desires community, fellowship, peace and solitude.
She must speak of everything. The resonant and the dissonant. The beauty and the depravity. The joy and the sorrow. The fullness of life and the darkness of death.

She sits on the sidewalks of Life, holding a thin cigarette and dreaming her dreams.
Her voice speaks in a beautiful accent. Tipped beret and all-knowing smile.
My inner poet is a romantic. She is French.

photo: mona lisa by italian (not french) painter, leonardo da vinci

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Changing Seasons

Drawn to fire. Bursting color—red and yellow.
Texture. Shape. Bounty. God’s creativity.
Drawn to the messy versus the neat and tidy.
The composting leaves playing in water together.
The occasional blue leftover from summer—tranquil and calm.
The red is alive saying, “See me. Look at me.”
The branches of trees providing shelter. The old knobby trunks, gnarled with age.

The freshness of water. The cleansing of rain. The saturation of ground.
A pathway of color—neat and tidy—messy and composting.
Earthy browns. Spring greens. Changing autumn.

Waiting for winter. Welcoming the darkness.
Saying farewell to the brilliant light for a season.

photos by lucy

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Heart Haiku

Crimson Cold
Beating, Breathing, Bleeding
Caught in a Vise

Purity Personified
Beating, Bleeding, Breathing
Caught in a Vise

Heart Caught in a Vise
Evil and Beauty Conveyed
Grips the Hold of Life

modern cinquain and haiku poetry

Autumn Invitation

Golden Fire
Glistening, Glowing, Inviting
Why do you call?
Fullness Beckons

"autumn fire" by lucy

Thursday, November 16, 2006

The Tiniest Thread

Threads. Crumbs. Rocks.

Standing in the darkness
reaching for something to hold, to grasp and touch.
Can a thread be a lifeline?
A crumb, a meal?
A rock, a source of safety and comfort?

Holding on by a thread, the smallest thread of hope.
Thin and fine, fragile as a spider’s web.
The tiniest thread waiting, hoping to be woven
into something strong and beautiful.

"saxon road spider" by lucy

Sunday, November 05, 2006

What Do I Know?

What do I know?
I know the sun was out only moments ago with the promise of a dry morning.
I know that now the sky has turned gray and raindrops are not far behind.
I know the kitten in my lap is a creation of God even when he seems to be of the devil.
I know my daughter is beautiful and pure as she sleeps in the room down the hall.
I know that I will always be full of questions and unknowing.
I know God is near and yet I long to see his face.
And I know if I allow myself, His face will be seen in the sun, the rain, the kitten and my daughter.
I will see God in the questions and in the mystery.
I will know His presence even when my heart feels cold and dry because He gives the promise of sun after the rain and light amidst the dark.
But then again—what do I know?

"gus" by lucy

Saturday, November 04, 2006

Woods of Splendor

The journey winds through woods of splendor.
Darkness and exposure reach from barren limbs--
limbs intertwined with delight and holiness.
Bending boughs offer protection from the storm and
their pursuit is filled with love and fullness.
It is perfect and whole.
The path is wet and wild, brilliant in its darkness.
The sensual and luscious step out of hiding to become known,
Enriching the journey in blazing splendor.

"st. joe's cathedral"