Category Archives: poetry

we are an easter people

an easter people

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And the Easter person?
Gets that little itch,
behind your garden boot,
near your secateur trigger,
off the rake’s handle,
by the soil-spiculed-spade tip,
to go out into your garden of rebirth,
even when the late winter wind says no.
We are an Easter people,
not by choice or faith or creed
but by necessity of digging
tenderly beside that budding bulb
enjoying sun’s lengthening…
from “Easter People” in I am Keats as you are by Glenn Peirson]
my husband gave me this Moai head replica the other day because of my long time fascination with the Easter Island gods. I hadn’t made the connection with Glenn’s poem until then… en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moai#/media/File:AhuTongariki.JPG

 

two great loves – Lent & Gardening

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Easter People

(April 12, 2009)

 

 

We are all an Easter people,
even if not religious in any particular way
or perhaps not at all.

 

 

The Christians tend to celebrate Easter-peopled-ness,
not in any proud or holier-than-thou manner,
but as an optimistic promise
resurrection-claiming
Holy Week unwinding
Lent minimizing
kind of way.

But, we are all an Easter people,
at least we Canadians
save those in Victoria or Point Pelee.

Everywhere else, in this often frigid place,
and some of those Scandinavian places too,
Siberia maybe, and Greenland (ha!),
we and they are Easter people.

We live the life of rebirth,
relife, rekindled in our frozen ground,
crocus, snowdrop, scilla,
poking through winter’s death
every early Spring.

Coincident with Easter,
resurrected even if forgotten bulb,
springs to life
just like our dead God.
Continue reading two great loves – Lent & Gardening

the rebirth of a dormant idea

somewords

My concern is ugliness
not the exploration of such for poetic purpose
nor the need for all poetry to be beautiful
but rather the objective of ugliness for its own sake
whether salacious, violent, abusive, degrading to spirit
exploitive, harmful, absolutely non-edifying
and sadly, as a bottom line, evil

Continue reading the rebirth of a dormant idea

Maundy Thursday

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April 5, 2005:  Maundy Thursday
(February 8, 2009 and before)

 

“This bread I break was once the oat”
was once my Maundy Thursday
was once my body before the break.

 

“The great wonder,” she writes,
“is that the human cells of His flesh and bone
didn’t explode”
and I wondered, that Thursday,
as I observed the clear fluid
trickling down the tubing
into me,
would those inhuman cells explode?
Continue reading Maundy Thursday

some words are not for poetry

Some words are not for poetry – III
(September 19, 2009)

Onomatopoetically sung song
spun beauty as gossamer thread glistening
I slide down dew-laced air always listening
to words tinged with heaven’s grace, but strung strong
Love does come to me, spinning and bathing
clothing and cradling my soul in its care
Beauty arises with silk gauze my wear
dressing, caressing, nudged gently wading

Into deep pondering life-weaving in awe
of wonder, surrender to beauty’s great
latticework frame, which cloaks and sustains us
translucent, hushed humbly, naked and raw
Into this beauty we spin without weight
hosanna-hymn laced with wild gentleness