BREAKING OUT OF THE BRAMBLES

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                            

This will be a very short poem today to continue with our friends on their journey questing for the brightest possible light.

Please keep in mind all the previous reblogged posts of this date as their messages play into our friends journey.

UNTANGLING LIGHT FROM SHADOW WITH BIRDLY CHIRPS

Scrumbling and tumbling and mumbling and pumbling

over toe over slow over head over heel

all tied gether friends did land in fumbling

away more shadows tore platters of pain to feel

Scarced ceasing in mudflat buried Flopear

saving friends from going over edge

just then quirking ear to song in stop! hear!

saving bird chirp so rasped in hedge

“By here, by now, my beady eye did spark”

called out Ugly Bird to mark

With sharp glinting bead of eye lark

beamed tiny pointer out from tangle so stark.

NOTE:  Please stay tuned for the trip out of this morass!

 

LEANING ON SHADOWS

 

LEANING ON SHADOWS

Each one holding the other all angles

wondering in circles out of the bog

Each one minding not wanting for more tangles

Not wanting for headed oil slidden as  log.

Now though these friends made to lie in green

no more wanting for rocks and horse and berried table

Now left to beaking vulture and scorning mien

no more cupping still waters beside tripping cable.

Then did friends cross arm and leg and ear and nose  to rely

For succour of heart to bide and hide the eyed rod

Then did cloak with healing stripes of myrrh thereby

For resting in bone desired spilling guarding nod.

Soon GreyHorse circled the friends with staffing care

no more forsaking close treading besiding still

Soon sighing and byeing in sleep to tear

no more dreams from each heart softing in thrill.

Now shadows of old hopen smoothed the heads

for soon shadows trading in want would crawl

Now curls of legs and toes and twigs in beds

for rest in folding holding unseamed shawl.

GreyHorse smelled the dawn of day untold

when menlings and swordlings would cut the cords

GreyHorse knew had once led in peace unsold

when yet lambs by ewes were made lords.

Dreaming these friends moldered the paths

that morn crouching to show

Dreaming in flops so snuffled the olden lathes

that shape the morrow in glow.

Stumbling and stretching and blowing and yawning

new day to greet in mind of old vow

Scratching and squinting unseamed dawning

new way to scratch ever East ever bent in bow.

Leaning on shadows molded to hold

now toe, now hoof, now claw, now shoe

Leaning on shadows shaping to scold

now fallen, now risen, now holden to rue.

Leaning on shadows bearing arm and staff and shield

against side of GreyHorse straining to lighten

Leaning hearts in the rising light enflaming field

against side of GreyHorse stretchin’ not bitin’

Leaning grass blades no meal for to yield

against belly of GreyHorse sworn for sightin’

Leaning hills in sands no stories dealed

against hoof and tail and flank of GreyHorse bestridin’

     On and on did dear friends toil ever East ever least ever beast never feast ever foil gainst broken tale of menlings fore fruited turn, down to the age yet to come.

FIFTH WEEK MONDAY: THE SPIRITS INSIDE THE GHOSTS THIS ALL-HALLOWED’S EVE

Having received beyond helpful pastoral advice this a.m. about sharpening my sensitivity to social cues in promote more satisfying group interactions–and:

Having successfully cheered up a good, younger friend who just waved her National Guard husband of two months off to Afghanistan–and:

Having received very encouraging replies to my comments on several writers’ blogs–and:

Having grown very comfortable with sitting and writing for 4+ hours straight–and:

Having successfully chased off the goblins from early childhood memories being written about (which is essential to both my plotline and some of the public venue causes I am currently passionate about supporting)–and:

Having remembered again this year what “Halloween” started as–and:

Having decided not to fret too much over an writing job proposal, as it is not really part of my vision at this time–and:

Having floated back into a state of peaceful acceptance of myself and my strengths and weaknesses–TA DA!–

I in delightedly shaking hands with my own spirit inside the loving spirits of those saints who have gone before me from my family tree!

Here’s a little thought blooming in a corner of my heart today:

RUSTLE PAST THE SHADOWS

TIPTOE INTO THE LIGHT

STAND TALL OVER THE ABYSS

KNEEL BESIDE THE HIGH PLACES

 

My favorite quote today:  The last words of Steve Jobs as he looked over and past the faces of his loved ones just before he lost consciousness the last time:

” OH, WOW! OH, WOW! OH, WOW!”

Now, THIS is the spirit inside the ghosts from my past that I want to carry over into tomorrow, All Saints’ Day!!

I will be celebrating the love of those saints from my family tree on November 1, 2011!