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  1. TopTop #3301
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Beautiful Wreckage

    What if I didn’t shoot the old lady
    running away from our patrol,
    or the old man in the back of the head,
    or the boy in the marketplace?

    Or what if the boy—but he didn’t
    have a grenade, and the woman in Hue
    didn’t lie in the rain in a mortar pit
    with seven Marines just for food,

    Gaffney didn’t get hit in the knee,
    Ames didn’t die in the river, Ski
    didn’t die in a medevac chopper
    between Con Thien and Da Nang.

    In Vietnamese, Con Thien means
    place of angels. What if it really was
    instead of the place of rotting sandbags,
    incoming heavy artillery, rats and mud.

    What if the angels were Ames and Ski,
    or the lady, the man, and the boy,
    and they lifted Gaffney out of the mud
    and healed his shattered knee?

    What if none of it happened the way I said?
    Would it all be a lie?
    Would the wreckage be suddenly beautiful?
    Would the dead rise up and walk?

    - W.D. Erhart
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  3. TopTop #3302
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    We’ve come a long way toward getting nowhere

    My obsession with Jews is an obsession
    with one Jew. I look at her walking
    and wonder what anyone could have
    against Jews, at her sleeping
    or hunting for her keys in the morning,
    which she does often, lose her keys
    when she has to go to work, suggesting
    she doesn’t want to, and maybe this
    is the problem with Jews:
    they don’t want to leave. Or they eat
    lots of chicken. Or worry the black
    of their skirts doesn’t match the black
    of their tops. Or like children more
    than babies. Or fret over their mothers.
    My Jewish problem is figuring out
    why America in 2016 has a dab
    of 1930s German Fascism to it—
    people at political rallies
    yelling crap about the Jews.
    If I thought it would do any good,
    I’d go to Topeka or wherever
    and bring Eve with her troubled wardrobe
    and her love of chicken and fascination
    with children between two and thirteen,
    when they can talk but before
    they’ve begun planning the murder
    of their parents, bring her face-to-face
    with the screamers and ask, So these
    are the freckles you hate? I would—we have
    a lot of Amex points and I’ve never been
    to Topeka or wherever, and I’m sure wherever
    is very nice. And whenever we travel
    to wherever, whatever people say
    and however they say it, Eve’s freckles
    will be the same, kind of cute
    and kind of Jewish,
    just like all her other parts
    that do and do not have freckles,
    in an inventory I alone
    get to take, though trust me—
    after repeated inspection, I can attest
    that underneath it all, she, like many
    of the people you know or are,
    is ticklish, wrinkly, sexy, scarred—
    since Jews really are relentless
    when it comes to being human.

    - Bob Hicok
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  4. Gratitude expressed by 4 members:

  5. TopTop #3303
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    In This Broken Time


    Tyrants will roar their victories,
    painting their red dreams
    on the lids of the nation—
    And kindness will be kindness.
    Greed will scoop out the soft places
    with sharp spoons
    leaving only hunger—
    And mercy will be mercy.
    Fear will cry its hot misguided wrath,
    sending nightmares through the land,
    shocking dreamers from their sleep in dread—
    And courage will be courage.
    Brutality will shake its tiny fist
    gloved thick with power;
    people will be killed in shameful ways,
    the storms of grief and rage will howl—
    And goodness will be goodness.
    In the end, no matter the deceit,
    no matter how compelling,
    we can’t be broken from our truest selves—
    we always circle back around
    and find our honor where we left it.
    Our people, our American people,
    our many-colored threads
    stretched tight in warp and weft
    between that which knows
    its own goodness
    and that which does not—
    Will claim the land again for our children
    and the enemy’s children, too,
    mending finally all the tears in the
    cloth of who we once and still
    so dream of being.

    - Kalia Mussetter
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  6. Gratitude expressed by 3 members:

  7. TopTop #3304
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Rain & Rachamim

    I love the rain.
    Makes me think of rachamim, of the Divine well spring of compassion.
    Nothing better than falling asleep to the rain
    the quiet rumble on the roof
    like a cat purring on your lap
    the gurgle of the gutters - the sound of all things wet and soggy outside
    while we are warm under the covers
    inside.

    How lucky we are to have a roof over our heads
    so that we can enjoy the rain and
    so many other things –

    Thank you God for the rain and our roofs
    our shelter
    from the storm.

    Let your rachamim fall on all your creatures,
    spread over us a shelter of rachamim
    of compassion and
    Shalom.

    - George Gittleman
    Last edited by Barry; 04-13-2017 at 12:30 PM.
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  8. TopTop #3305
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Passover Remembered


    Pack nothing.
    Bring only your determination to serve
    and your willingness to be free.

    Don't wait for the bread to rise.
    Take nourishment for the journey,
    but eat standing,
    be ready to move at a moment's notice.

    Do not hesitate to leave your old ways behind - fear, silence, submission.

    Only surrender to the need of the time;
    to love justice and walk humbly with your God.

    Do not take time to explain to the neighbors.
    Tell only a few trusted friends and family members.

    Then begin quickly, before you have time to sink back into the old ways.

    Set out in the dark.
    I will send fire to warm and encourage you.
    I will be with you in the fire
    and I will be with you in the cloud.

    You will learn to eat new food and find refuge in new places.
    I will give you dreams in the desert
    to guide you safely home to that place
    you have not yet seen.

    The stories you will tell one another around the fires in the dark
    will make you strong and wise.

    Outsiders will attack you and some who follow you,
    and at times you will get weary
    and turn on each other
    from fear and fatigue and blind forgetfulness.

    You have been preparing for this for hundreds of years.
    I am sending you into the wilderness to make a new way
    And to learn my ways more deeply.

    Some of you will be so changed
    by weathers and wanderings
    that even your closest friends
    will have to learn your features
    as though for the first time.
    Some of you will not change at all.

    Some will be abandoned by your dearest loves
    and misunderstood by those
    who have known you since birth
    and feel abandoned by you.

    Some will find new friendship
    in unlikely faces, and old friends
    as faithful, and true
    as the pillar of God's flame.

    Sing songs as you go,
    and hold close together.
    You may at times grow confused
    and lose your way.

    Continue to call each other
    By the names I’ve given you,
    To help you remember who you are.
    Touch each other and keep telling the stories.

    Make maps as you go,
    remembering the way back
    from before you were born.

    So you will be only the first
    of many waves of deliverance on these desert seas.
    It is the first of many beginnings
    your Paschaltide.
    Remain true to this mystery.

    Pass on the whole story.

    Do not go back.

    I am with you now
    and I am waiting for you.

    - Alla Renee Bozarth
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  9. Gratitude expressed by 5 members:

  10. TopTop #3306
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Paschal

    Easter was the old North
    Goddess of the dawn.
    She rises daily in the East
    And yearly in spring for the great

    Paschal candle of the sun.
    Her name lingers like a spot
    Of gravy in the figured vestment
    Of the language of the Britons.

    Her totem the randy bunny.
    Our very Thursdays and Wednesdays
    Are stained by syllables of thunder
    And Woden's frenzy.

    O my fellow-patriots loyal to this
    Our modern world of high heels,
    Vaccination, brain surgery—
    May they pass over us, the old

    Jovial raptors, Apollonian flayers,
    Embodiments. Egg-hunt,
    Crucifixion. Supper of encrypted
    Dishes: bitter, unrisen, a platter

    Compass of martyrdom,
    Ground-up apples and walnuts
    In sweet wine to embody mortar
    Of affliction, babies for bricks.

    Legible traces of the species
    That devises the angel of death
    Sailing over our doorpost
    Smeared with sacrifice.

    - Robert Pinsky
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  11. Gratitude expressed by 2 members:

  12. TopTop #3307
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Easter Exultet

    Shake out your qualms.
    Shake up your dreams.
    Deepen your roots.
    Extend your branches.
    Trust deep water
    and head for the open,
    even if your vision
    shipwrecks you.
    Quit your addiction
    to sneer and complain.
    Open a lookout.
    Dance on a brink.
    Run with your wildfire.
    You are closer to glory
    leaping an abyss
    than upholstering a rut.
    Not dawdling.
    Not doubting.
    Intrepid all the way
    Walk toward clarity.
    At every crossroad
    Be prepared
    to bump into wonder.
    Only love prevails.
    En route to disaster
    insist on canticles.
    Lift your ineffable
    out of the mundane.
    Nothing perishes;
    nothing survives;
    everything transforms!
    Honeymoon with Big Joy!

    - James Broughton
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  13. Gratitude expressed by 6 members:

  14. TopTop #3308
    Ronaldo's Avatar
    Ronaldo
     

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Name:  Easter-Exultet.jpg
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  15. Gratitude expressed by 3 members:

  16. TopTop #3309
    Sara S's Avatar
    Sara S
    Auntie Wacco

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    I especially like "upholstering a rut"!
    Last edited by Barry; 04-17-2017 at 10:39 AM.
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  18. TopTop #3310
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    On the fifth day
    the scientists who studied the rivers
    were forbidden to speak
    or to study the rivers.

    The scientists who studied the air
    were told not to speak of the air,
    and the ones who worked for the farmers
    were silenced,
    and the ones who worked for the bees.

    Someone, from deep in the Badlands,
    began posting facts.

    The facts were told not to speak
    and were taken away.
    The facts, surprised to be taken, were silent.

    Now it was only the rivers
    that spoke of the rivers,
    and only the wind that spoke of its bees,

    while the unpausing factual buds of the fruit trees
    continued to move toward their fruit.

    The silence spoke loudly of silence,
    and the rivers kept speaking,
    of rivers, of boulders and air.

    Bound to gravity, earless and tongueless,
    the untested rivers kept speaking.

    Bus drivers, shelf stockers,
    code writers, machinists, accountants,
    lab techs, cellists kept speaking.

    They spoke, the fifth day,
    of silence.

    - Jane Hirshfield
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  19. Gratitude expressed by 6 members:

  20. TopTop #3311
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    The Fall of Rome
    (for Cyril Connolly)


    The piers are pummelled by the waves;
    In a lonely field the rain
    Lashes an abandoned train;
    Outlaws fill the mountain caves.

    Fantastic grow the evening gowns;
    Agents of the Fisc pursue
    Absconding tax-defaulters through
    The sewers of provincial towns.

    Private rites of magic send
    The temple prostitutes to sleep;
    All the literati keep
    An imaginary friend.

    Cerebrotonic Cato may
    Extol the Ancient Disciplines,
    But the muscle-bound Marines
    Mutiny for food and pay.

    Caesar's double-bed is warm
    As an unimportant clerk
    Writes I DO NOT LIKE MY WORK
    On a pink official form.

    Unendowed with wealth or pity,
    Little birds with scarlet legs,
    Sitting on their speckled eggs,
    Eye each flu-infected city.

    Altogether elsewhere, vast
    Herds of reindeer move across
    Miles and miles of golden moss,
    Silently and very fast.

    - W. H. Auden
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  21. Gratitude expressed by 4 members:

  22. TopTop #3312
    kpage9's Avatar
    kpage9
     

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    some of us have specialized in rut upholstery--and o lord the range of styles and comfort levels!


    Quote Posted in reply to the post by Sara S: View Post
    I especially like "upholstering a rut"!
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  24. TopTop #3313
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    What Song Should We Sing

    The massive overhead crane comes
    when we wave to it, lets down
    its heavy claws and waits tamely
    within its power while we hook up
    the slabs of three-quarter-inch
    steel. Takes away the ponderous
    reality when we wave again.
    What name do we have for that?
    What song is there for its voice?
    What is the other face of Yahweh?
    The god who made the slug and ferret,
    the maggot and shark in his image.
    What is the carol for that?
    Is it the song of nevertheless,
    or of the empire of our heart? We carry
    language as our mind, but are we
    the dead whale that sinks grandly
    for years to reach the bottom of us?

    - Jack Gilbert
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  25. Gratitude expressed by 3 members:

  26. TopTop #3314
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    A Ritual to Read to Each OtherRelated Poem Content Details

    If you don't know the kind of person I am
    and I don't know the kind of person you are
    a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
    and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

    For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
    a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
    sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
    storming out to play through the broken dike.

    And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
    but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
    I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
    to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

    And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
    a remote important region in all who talk:
    though we could fool each other, we should consider—
    lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

    For it is important that awake people be awake,
    or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
    the signals we give — yes or no, or maybe —
    should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

    - William Stafford
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  27. Gratitude expressed by 3 members:

  28. TopTop #3315
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    There She Is

    When I go into the garden, there she is.
    The specter holds up her arms to show
    that her hands are eaten off.
    She is silent because of the agony.
    There is blood on her face.
    I can see she has done this to herself.
    So she would not feel the other pain.
    And it is true, she does not feel it.
    She does not even see me.
    It is not she anymore, but the pain itself
    that moves her. I look and think
    how to forget. How can I live while she
    stands there? And if I take her life
    what will that make of me? I cannot
    touch her, make her conscious.
    It would hurt her too much.
    I hear the sound all through the air
    that was her eating, but it is on its own now,
    completely separate from her. I think
    I am supposed to look. I am not supposed
    to turn away. I am supposed to see each detail
    and all expression gone. My God, I think,
    if paradise is to be here
    it will have to include her.

    - Linda Gregg
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  30. TopTop #3316
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    What We Need Is Here

    Geese appear high over us,
    pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
    as in love or sleep, holds
    them to their way, clear
    in the ancient faith: what we need
    is here. And we pray, not
    for new earth or heaven, but to be
    quiet in heart, and in eye,
    clear. What we need is here.

    - Wendell Berry
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  31. TopTop #3317
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    We Have A Beautiful Mother

    We have a beautiful
    Mother
    Her hills
    Are buffaloes
    Her buffaloes
    Hills.
    We have a beautiful
    Mother
    Her oceans
    Are wombs
    Her wombs
    Oceans.
    We have a beautiful
    Mother
    Her teeth
    The white stones
    At the edge
    Of the water
    The summer
    Grasses
    Her plentiful
    Hair.
    We have a beautiful
    Mother
    Her green lap
    Immense
    Her brown embrace
    Eternal
    Her blue body
    Everything we know.

    - Alice Walker
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  32. Gratitude expressed by 4 members:

  33. TopTop #3318
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Auschwitz-Birkenau

    To awaken here
    Is to hear silence
    Shrieking in cold,
    Empty corridors, to awaken

    In a heart hewn
    By fear, a darkness
    Closed to compassion.
    Any kindness

    Is all kindness--a treachery
    We must enter, allow to enter us--
    Ask us, "who are you here
    In this hallowed hell?"

    No where to step
    Where ash hasn't fallen,
    Where cruelty hasn't walked,
    Fed on our tender fear.

    Who am I in this
    Enormous evil?
    A dog waiting at a platform?
    Or the child terrified of dogs,

    Clutching a brother's hand?
    A boy alive forever,
    Forever frightened so we
    Will know what we can do.

    I move through ghosts, numb.
    Like others, I am dumb,
    In respectful, awful silence,
    Save for voices screaming,

    Who I am? Am I
    The selfless priest crammed
    In a standing cell, dying
    For a stranger who survived?

    Who am I here in history's
    Hall of horrors? Walls lined
    With visages, victims
    Who haven't yet imagined

    What we can do--will do.

    Not Nazis, not
    Germans, but humans
    Did this. We
    Do this now.

    To awaken here is
    To see that casual blue
    Chip in the sky's
    Somber gray soul,

    Innocent opening
    letting light flow down,
    Bless this damned,
    Degraded place.

    To awaken here,
    Is to know one's
    Darkness, and not
    Turning from it, see that light.

    - Rebecca del Rio
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  34. Gratitude expressed by 2 members:

  35. TopTop #3319
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Education?

    To define a child by A to Z
    Refines the art of mockery;
    Such pretense of intellect
    Harbors collective disrespect;
    Uniform charts on every wall
    Imitate Apollo perfectly apall.
    Yes this urgency to order
    Pretends the goddess of disorder
    Is not a worthy Nemesis,
    And that her cousin Dionysius
    Has forsworn wine: his bride Psyche
    Become a bridesmaid of Nike.

    - Brian McSweeney
    Last edited by Barry; 04-25-2017 at 03:39 PM.
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  36. Gratitude expressed by 2 members:

  37. TopTop #3320
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    The Destruction of Sennacherib

    The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
    And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
    And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
    When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

    Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
    That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
    Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
    That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

    For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
    And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
    And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
    And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

    And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
    But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
    And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
    And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

    And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
    With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail:
    And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
    The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

    And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
    And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
    And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
    Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

    - Lord Byron
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  38. Gratitude expressed by 2 members:

  39. TopTop #3321
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    • Poetry Contest for Adults and Youth


    • CALL FOR ENTRIES: The History of Sonoma County
      A Poetry Contest for Adults and Youth
      Deadline for entry: May 1, 2017
      SCA announces a poetry contest, entitled "The History of Sonoma County" which invites local writers to submit poems about the history of Sonoma County. Poems selected from this contest will be displayed at Sebastopol Center for the Arts and winners will be invited to attend and read their winning poem at the Sebastopol Center for the Arts on June 10. The contest juror is Sonoma County Poet Laureate, Iris Jamahl Dunkle. Dunkle is the author of two poetry collections, Gold Passage (2013) and There's a Ghost in this Machine of Air (2015).
      The entry deadline is Monday, May 1, 2017. Youth, teens and adults are invited to submit their work and may submit up to three entries per contestant. The fee for adults is $8 for members of the Sebastopol Center for the Arts, $10 for non-members, and $5 for youth entries age 18 and under.
      Awards:

      • One juror will select the winning entries.
      • Three Winners will be selected in each of the following categories: Youth (K-5), Junior High (6-8), High School (9-12), Adult
      • Winners will read their poems at a reception June 10, 7:30pm,
      • Winning entries will be displayed at SCA
      • First place winners in all categories will each be awarded a $50 prize, Second place winners will receive a $25 prize and Third place winner will receive a $15 prize.
      • Winning entries may be published in SCA's "QuARTerly" and on the website.
      Entry Guidelines:

      • Entries are online only to be uploaded at: www.jotform.com
      • All entries must be original, unpublished, and not previously exhibited or read at SCA.
      • All entries must be submitted in a font no smaller than 12 pt. Times New Roman (or equivalent).
      • Each entry must be submitted in a Word Doc or PDF file, on a single 8½ x 11" page, with margins no less than 1 inch around.
      • Writers may submit a maximum of 3 entries.
      • Writers must submit two copies of each entry, one blind copy (without any author identification for judging), and a second copy identifying the author and city of residency for display. Each entry must be named as follows: lastname.firstname.1name and lastname.firstname.noname (for the copy without a name.) For example:
        • Smith.Amy.1name and Smith.Amy.1noname
        • Smith.Amy.2name and Smith.Amy.2noname
        • Smith.Amy.3name and Smith.Amy.3noname
      Due to volume considerations, a literary panel may prescreen entries.
      Deadlines & Fees:
      Entries must be submitted online by May 1, 2017.
      Sebastopol Center for the Arts members: $8 per entry (membership is $40 annually).
      Non-members: $10 per entry.
      Youth age 18 and under $5 per entry.
      Winners will be notified by May 25.
      For more information, email [email protected] or 707-829-4797 or visit www.sebarts.org

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  40. TopTop #3322
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    The Charge of the Goddess

    Now listen to the words of the Great Mother,
    who was of old also called among men Artemis,
    Astarte, Athene, Dione, Melusine, Aphrodite,
    Cerridwen, Dana, Arianrhod, Isis, Bride,
    and by many other names.
    At her altars, the youth of Lacedaemon in Sparta made due sacrifice.


    Whenever ye have need of any thing,
    once in the month,
    and better it be when the moon is full,
    then shall ye assemble in some secret place, and adore the spirit of me,
    who am Queen of all witches.


    There shall ye assemble, ye who are fain to learn all sorcery,
    yet have not won its deepest secrets;
    to these will I teach things that are as yet unknown.


    And ye shall be free from slavery;
    and as a sign that ye be really free,
    ye shall be naked in your rites;
    and ye shall dance, sing, feast, make music and love, all in my praise.
    For mine is the ecstasy of the spirit,
    and mine also is joy on earth;
    for my law is love unto all beings.


    Keep pure your highest ideal;
    strive ever towards it, let naught stop you or turn you aside;
    for mine is the secret door which opens upon the land of youth,
    and mine is the cup of wine of life,
    and the cauldron of Cerridwen,
    which is the Holy Grail of immortality.


    I am the gracious Goddess,
    who gives the gift of joy unto the heart of man.
    Upon earth, I give the knowledge of the spirit eternal;
    and beyond death, I give peace, and freedom,
    and reunion with those who have gone before.


    Nor do I demand sacrifice;
    for behold, I am the Mother of all living,
    and my love is poured out upon the earth.


    Hear ye the words of the Star Goddess;
    she in the dust of whose feet are the hosts of heaven,
    whose body encircles the universe.


    I who am the beauty
    of the green earth and the white moon upon
    the mysteries of the waters,
    I call upon your soul to arise and come unto me.


    For I am the soul of nature
    that gives life to the universe.
    From me all things proceed and unto me
    they must return.
    Let My worship be in the
    heart that rejoices, for behold,
    all acts of love and pleasure
    are My rituals.


    Let there be beauty and strength,
    power and compassion,
    honor and humility,
    mirth and reverence within you.
    And you who seek to know me,
    know that the seeking and yearning
    will avail you not,
    unless you know the Mystery:
    for if that which you seek,
    you find not within yourself,
    you will never find it without.


    For behold,
    I have been with you from the beginning,
    and I am that which is attained
    at the end of desire

    - Traditional by Doreen Valiente, as adapted by Starhawk
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  41. Gratitude expressed by 4 members:

  42. TopTop #3323
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Mother Church No. 3

    Kin Kletso/Yellow House
    Chaco Canyon, San Juan County, New Mexico
    Anasazi Ruins, AD 1125-1130
    for Henri, at 2

    You step down into the Flat World
    Then ask me to say it, to explain

    How our name can mean both ancestor
    And enemy. Your body begins in four directions.

    Here, one calendar takes eighteen years.
    I am three. One day is an eyelash.

    Your body is a segment of prehistoric road,
    A buried stairwell with only the top stair obvious.

    We are alluvial, obsidian.
    Sometimes the ground swells

    With disappointment; sometimes we know our mountains
    Will be renamed after foreign saints.

    We sing nine-hundred-year-old hymns
    That instruct us in how to sit still

    For forty-nine years
    Through a fifty-year drought.

    We climb down through the hole anyway,
    And agree to the arrangement.

    - Robin Coste Lewis
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  43. Gratitude expressed by 3 members:

  44. TopTop #3324
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Questions My Son Asked Me, Answers I Never Gave Him

    1. Do gorillas have birthdays?
    Yes. Like the rainbow, they happen.
    Like the air, they are not observed.

    2. Do butterflies make a noise?
    The wire in the butterfly’s tongue
    hums gold.
    Some men hear butterflies
    even in winter.

    3. Are they part of our family?
    They forgot us, who forgot how to fly.

    4. Who tied my navel? Did God tie it?
    God made the thread: O man, live forever!
    Man made the knot: enough is enough.

    5. If I drop my tooth in the telephone
    will it go through the wires and bite someone’s ear?
    I have seen earlobes pierced by a tooth of steel.
    It loves what lasts.
    It does not love flesh.
    It leaves a ring of gold in the wound.

    6. If I stand on my head
    will the sleep in my eye roll up into my head?
    Does the dream know its own father?
    Can bread go back to the field of its birth?

    7. Can I eat a star?
    Yes, with the mouth of time
    that enjoys everything.

    8. Could we Xerox the moon?
    This is the first commandment:

    I am the moon, thy moon.
    Thou shalt have no other moons before thee.

    9. Who invented water?
    The hands of the air, that wanted to wash each other.

    10. What happens at the end of numbers?
    I see three men running toward a field.
    At the edge of the tall grass, they turn into light.

    11. Do the years ever run out?
    God said, I will break time’s heart.
    Time ran down like an old phonograph.
    It lay flat as a carpet.
    At rest on its threads, I am learning to fly.

    - Nancy Willard
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  45. Gratitude expressed by 5 members:

  46. TopTop #3325
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Horses at Midnight without a Moon


    Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods.
    Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt.
    But there’s music in us. Hope is pushed down
    but the angel flies up again taking us with her.
    The summer mornings begin inch by inch
    while we sleep, and walk with us later
    as long-legged beauty through
    the dirty streets. It is no surprise
    that danger and suffering surround us.
    What astonishes is the singing.
    We know the horses are there in the dark
    meadow because we can smell them,
    can hear them breathing.
    Our spirit persists like a man struggling
    through the frozen valley
    who suddenly smells flowers
    and realizes the snow is melting
    out of sight on top of the mountain,
    knows that spring has begun.

    - Jack Gilbert
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  47. Gratitude expressed by 4 members:

  48. TopTop #3326
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Earth

    Let the day grow on you upward
    through your feet,
    the vegetal knuckles,

    to your knees of stone,
    until by evening you are a black tree;
    feel, with evening,

    the swifts thicken your hair,
    the new moon rising out of your forehead,
    and the moonlit veins of silver

    running from your armpits
    like rivulets under white leaves.
    Sleep, as ants

    cross over your eyelids.
    You have never possessed anything
    as deeply as this.

    This is all you have owned
    from the first outcry
    through forever;

    you can never be dispossessed.

    - Derek Walcott
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  49. Gratitude expressed by 4 members:

  50. TopTop #3327
    Ronaldo's Avatar
    Ronaldo
     

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Name:  Earth-Tree.jpg
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    This note and photo above were sent to me yesterday by Margaret Gore from
    Mohton, PA

    Hi Ron, Thought I'd write a little story for you in the spirit of my dad's pen to paper.

    Well, today after being prodded each Spring "To go out and get em", I took my foraging basket and set out into our ten acre wood in search of the elusive morel mushroom. My friend, Ron Rozewski, said he found them here many moons ago. After 30 + years of living here I have never seen a one. His advice was not to look for them but only "To look for what is there".

    So now I can tell you what really is there... Using my fancy Komperdell hiking pole, I began across the lane up a steep slope to the upper edge of the property. There must be some up here I thought. The stand of trees include oak, popular, and other hardwoods here on Hardwood Lane. But rather than morels, I saw squirrel nests, holes from the many varieties of woodpeckers and tons of poison ivy. I was just happy not to run into any of the wild turkeys that gobble or the skunk I smelled the night before.

    I came down the slope and entered the big woods through the thicket, past the pond. I noticed the spillway overflowed with the Spring rain and created another stream to cross. There were a few more large trees toppled by their roots during the Winter's storms too.

    On a smaller scale, the ground was covered in ferns unfurling their fronds and I couldn't help thinking how I saw them being sold in the garden center just yesterday for $4.95 a pop. I could be rich I thought! Looking even closer, I found wildflowers in all their glory...trout lilies, May apples, solomon seal, jack-in-the pulpit, and on and on. I am rich to have this beauty on my land... I realized in an Ah Ha moment!

    I kept walking toward the stream near the bottom of the property. I didn't remember the stand of beech trees that line her banks and the twinkle of the water made me stop for a pause. By now I forgot all about my mission of foraging mushrooms.

    My little hike was complete and I decided to save the creek crossing and steep incline to the summit and Southern edge of the property for my next restless urge and adventure in my big backyard. I headed back home to my little house in the wood quite satisfied.

    Thanks Ron for urging me to get up and see what's out there. Not the morels I searched for but a whole lot more!

    Love to you my wise friend, Marjorie

    Quote Posted in reply to the post by Larry Robinson: View Post
    Earth
    ...
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  51. Gratitude expressed by 4 members:

  52. TopTop #3328
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Imagining

    What if God isnʼt a noun
    to be empowered and worshiped
    but a verb of creation
    powered by love?

    What if every single tree
    drawn in primary school
    is a sacred work of art
    worthy of joyful notice?

    What if our lives are built
    on a web of kindness,
    a net,
    which holds everything living.

    What if the rocks are alive
    singing strength and courage;
    vibrating
    from our feet right up to our heart?

    What if we loved ourselves
    as deeply as the mountain
    who,
    caressed by water,
    surrenders herself
    into sand?

    What if our most loved,
    intra-national pastime
    is a game of entertainment
    where we all win?

    What if no one aspired
    to be a millionaire
    and money no longer had power
    but was simply a means of tender-ness.

    What if transforming our world
    by imagining it
    can
    actually make it happen?

    - Deborah Rodney
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  53. Gratitude expressed by 2 members:

  54. TopTop #3329
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    A Child is Something Else Again


    A child is something else again. Wakes up
    in the afternoon and in an instant he's full of words,
    in an instant he's humming, in an instant warm,
    instant light, instant darkness.

    A child is Job. They've already placed their bets on him
    but he doesn't know it. He scratches his body
    for pleasure. Nothing hurts yet.
    They're training him to be a polite Job,
    to say "Thank you" when the Lord has given,
    to say "You're welcome" when the Lord has taken away.

    A child is vengeance.
    A child is a missile into the coming generations.
    I launched him: I'm still trembling.

    A child is something else again: on a rainy spring day
    glimpsing the Garden of Eden through the fence,
    kissing him in his sleep,
    hearing footsteps in the wet pine needles.
    A child delivers you from death.
    Child, Garden, Rain, Fate.

    - Yehuda Amichai
    (translated from the original Hebrew by Chana Block)
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  55. Gratitude expressed by 3 members:

  56. TopTop #3330
    Larry Robinson's Avatar
    WaccoBB Poet Laureate

    Re: Poem for the day from Larry Robinson

    Mirror. Memory
    The man and woman in a formal portrait
    before me in the gallery,
    born to the high summer of Flemish pride —

    pride in their eyes, rendered with animal glues,
    in the elaborate loops of their collars,
    even pride in the painter

    who only yesterday applied gesso
    and tacked the canvas to make them ready for
    a future of perpetual intrusion —

    are not the ones I want to remember:
    winter provincials listening for infant cries,
    boiling a kettle in the predawn,

    their faces misted and revealed
    in the steel of it, their moment passing,
    passing; nothing but sleep in their eyes.

    - Eavan Boland
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