My Poetry and Prose Blogology
Finding Poetry in My Depression
“and now—after many long—scribbled out years
stumbling over words with my heavenly creator
I have finally learned to humbly deal with it—
even through all its unexpected ebbs and flows”
The Digital Drain
“While effective in small unremitting measures, social media can quickly spread its hellish wreak into selfish indulgence, clothed in unbridled egocentric shadows of xenophobia, racism, misogyny, and narcissism. And after a daub of digital numbing—you will never seem to have enough virtual friends and followers.”
Friends In Rivers
“when these hands of friendly earth open wide
rivers of meditation will reflect your soft heart”
Dreams That Become Us
“trapped in places—we dared not venture
fixed in shapes—we risked not touch
arrayed in colors—we often ignored
traveling in lifestyles—we did not understand
and speaking in voices—we failed to hear”
My Mother’s Hand
…she learned to write with her left hand—words barely legible and shaky, like prose penned in earthly tremors…
The Hope of Sunflowers
“…the powers of our blossoming sun
will always defeat powers of dark rage”
The Vanishing Point
“your digital virtual reality appears as real
or your living reality dissolves into ethers of the virtual…”
Open Borders
I thought this poem appropriate considering the turmoil and suffering in Ukraine beginning last evening.
(photo by Carma Evans)
Life in an Orogeny
“Let this then become our vision—not unlike the ancients, to use only a small, yet an essential portion of its natural and encumbered generosity which has provided for so many other countless and hidden forms of life.”
The Story of Water
“In the end—we find that any person or entity cannot own water; it can only be borrowed.”
A Shrinking Lake of Memories
“But when I look upon her—I still see an endless home. Perched on vast grey wings of the unconditional love of all life—a perfect grace of water, earth, and sky…”
Her Last Breath
“her soft skin is drying out
withered into bronze scales
beneath a fiery vacuous sun…”
The Bright Night
“So—how do we ever describe the solitudes of night
to a world with itching ears and pixelated eyes?”
