Friday, July 29, 2005

Fitz exchange

I sent (before I moved)

When I am here and you are there
there is a part lost in between,
and I’m not sure
if it’s something we needed,
or excess thoughts and dreams –

but I’ll bet that it’s a bit of magick
that exists when we are close
and that we have lost nothing
except a memory or three.

She answered –

ah but memories are never lost, my love
they are …

but a moment's kiss away
and the warmth of our breath kindles anew
the patterns that we have swirling 'round us
or perhaps the gentlest touches sparking a'fire
generates lovedust to soften the underlying passions desire
memories are not of the mind as most would suggest --

I say they are of thine Heart and mine.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Learning Love

Not a Fitz --
written for my first wife
of 36 years -- still a true friend,
as we were in the beginning ...

I was afraid to love -
but you knew that, didn't you?
unfair - you came from no love and was sure -
I came from love and didn't know how
we taught each other - some
not enough.

What was said - and not said
needed - not found
not needed - given
lost - found
abused - massaged
loved - forgotten?

I thought to sacrifice myself for your needs -
you thought I was sacrificing family for self
how can I say I have regrets -
when I never did anything to cause pain or loss

Yet, how can I expect love when caring/understanding was ground to dust?

Of all the things that have happened, my friend -

You are now afraid to love

For that I am truly sorry

Love not allowed

Love unseen

We touched, my love and me
in an old dream

Now in eyes of distant memory
we walk together through harvest fields
and see what might have been

Love Realities (CF)

SEED: "love did not seem real"

Reality is transitive at best, at least in terms of love

as we are conditioned by what we see and touch
and rarely what we feel or allow ourselves to know.

Then I met m'lady who cannot see
and was not allowed to love, for all of that --
but can give me love's unknown realities.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Daily Routine

Our love did not seem real
but the light
that shone in our eyes
on the first day of our loving
is with us each morning
as you bring a coffee tasting kiss

Thread of Remembering

In keeping with an apparent thread
of remembering or forgetting,
I offer a sonnet written long ago ...




There is a time, my love, that I remember well;
Thoughts that I caress and hold to swelling heart.
I laugh out loud; eyes close shut and arms wide apart
To clasp a memory of which I often tell.

Yet I know that mem'ry often diffuses fact,
To protect fragile ego over shifting time.
Our love did not seem real then, somehow more sublime.
Actions were not reasoned well, we simply did react.

Now I must question if I recall actual love
Or simply do invent soft thoughts of joy and bliss?
Was it myself I loved but sought not to ever miss
A chance to find myself in answer from above?

Do I wish to remember well, or perhaps forget
That what should bring joyful thought often gives regret.

Monday, July 18, 2005

A CF for Lisa

New poet in Thrine

Well does she speak in triplet form or single verse

This new member beknown by ancient Phoenix call,
but also that of bridging Troll and by right a Sister too.

Three does allow a braiding well known or hair and rope,
that in simplicity can embrace many spiritual threads
of thoughts and dream and passion.


Sunday, July 17, 2005

Making a poem on Salmon Beach: haiku triad

each word gleefully
snatched by the wind, then scattered
in all directions:

some roost in twisted
trees, some are claimed by bronze ants,
a few hide within

winkleshells; later
they come straggling home again -
soaked, scuffed, eyes shining

Saturday, July 16, 2005

Embrace Emotions (CF)

SEED: beauty, terror, suffering, and love

How poorly trained we are, methinks

in embracing such variety of emotions and reflections --
driven to order them as good and bad or worse.

Should not the comparison be, in truth,
with not being able to embrace emotions at all,
or to have a soul so deadened that it hears no music with the dance?


Thursday, July 14, 2005

Break Away

SEED: "you break away by daybreak"

At Sakin'el, by ancient draw
the new day starts at twilight,
when we can cease our human toil
and shift to dance and song.

With the dawn we break
from putting memories to rest,
and find rebirth in everything
that will bring us close --

so break away from yesterday
to rejoice this day with me.

Seed line:My dreams encircle you

My dreams encircle you.
Years have flown
but memories cannot
be thrown-
or banished
from subconsciousness.

This is no Garden of Eden.

From time to time
we meet again
when I lose control in the
world of slumber.

Such restless sleep.

Though dreams encircle you,
you break away
by daybreak.
Leaving me wide-eyed. Baffled.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005


Seed Line: Mixing With Tears (Megan)

Mixing With Tears
Memories too bright
2 cups of lost years
A handful of night
2 tsp.sweetness (not what it appears)
Sift something that once was so right
½ c. unconquered fears
Dash of the words I now write
A doz. old songs, once sung in my ears
‘til it all disappears
Keep mixing with tears

Salmon Beach Posted by Picasa
Seed line: Wrap the day into dark shrouds (Winnie)

The day wrapped in dark shrouds
waves thundering in
salty sea spray
raindrops like spittle
mixing with tears
the anger silent within.

FRANtically Simple

SEED: "the wind in my sail" (fran)

I do not seek Her in magesty,
nor in dusty tombs or scrolls;
but in the simplest breath of presence --
the soft wind in my poet's sail.

Shea whispers a song I scarcely hear,
but my gosomere dreams soon billow full
when She does sigh to me
of faint salty mists of memory -- and thee.


I keep trying to m'lady Emrys to join this blog,
but she is strangely shy and reserved.
So I will have to post some of here Fitz
myself ...


my dreams encircle you
and wrap you snuggly while you sleep
a warmth that I have never known
a love pulsing, rich and deep
a reason for me to either greet the day
or allow gentle thoughts within to creep
a timeless drop of innocence,
a multitude of memories to keep
inside my blissful Heart.

Fitz to Flying

Seed line: I will ride the bright Ocean/The wind in my sail . . .

Ride the bright ocean
Where the clouds split with sun
On a swift winging motion
The miles come undone

Unraveled like moon beams
Undone by the day
Soft cradled dark dreams
The sea slips away

Spin on whipped cream clouds
Above the bright blue
Wrap the day into dark shrouds
As the day breaks anew

Edwina Peterson Cross


I will ride the bright ocean
the wind in my sail
taste of salt air
turn of wave
song of waters
not thinking
nor dreaming
I will take
asl He gave

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Givens well Taken

SEED: “Given will ever be taken”

Of the Mother we can have such faith,
be she flesh, Earth, Sea or Blessed;
that what we create is noble,
and what we give is pure.

But the Father would ask,
“Have you taken those Givens
set aside for you and used them
wisely and pure?”

and so I must start again –
simpler still.

Seed: Salt doll does not measure the ocean before it is time

Bright ocean open and bleeding
Sweet is the taste of the brine
Into an emerald wave speeding
Pearl and salt to combine
Given will ever be taken
Pour ‘til your ocean is dry
The depths below you will waken
The sea will then swallow the sky

Such was it begun
So will it be done

Monday, July 11, 2005

Harping Along -- Fitz

seed: "a harp carved of forever"

Though a harp is carved of forever,
and tuned in the key of we;
the harmonic curve is an angle wing
that does but kiss the piller of fire,
held firm by the countless strings of being.
Each does sound a different note,
but all do meet in finality,
as one and all
in symphony.

Salt Doll

Salt doll does not measure the ocean before it is time. Instead, she rides the waves in her semi seaworthy body vessel. The ribs of the aging ship are beginning to creak and groan. Salt Doll peers into the foamy depths, recognizing she'll return to her ocean home in a blip, a heartbeat, a nanosecond.....

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Synchronicity Singing

Seed: This mystery might be likened to a harp

ALTERNATIVE metaphor: this mystery, a harp carved of forever

Is strung with billions of strings, played by a harper of ever-earth
Each string is special and unique, different from the last, of variant matter made

Sometimes strings are plucked at exactly the same second, producing exactly the same vibration
Sudden, sonorous synchronicity
Rings . . . reverberates . . . resounds

One String

seed: "time worn path of humanity"

If all paths cross in the forest,
yet we walk the same trail...

This mystery might be likened to a harp string, divinely plucked.

Each change of tension between mind and spirit
will produce a different note to join the eternal song.

The strength with which the vibration echoes
may be ours to choose, and while in vibration may seem singular,
yet t' is but one string for all.


Saturday, July 09, 2005

Am I a poet ‘as an alternative to this time worn path of humanity?’

I AM this time worn path of humanity!
Alternative? OK! And extrapolation, extension, progeny, posterity

NEXT! Until the next and the next, and forever the glorious next!
Proud lineage. Majestic descent. Magnificent kindred
I AM this time worn path of humanity!

Sonnet XIX

If I die solvent — die, that is to say,
In full possession of my critical mind,
Not having cast, to keep the wolves at bay
In this dark wood — till all be flung behind —
Wit, courage, honor, pride, oblivion
Of the red eyeball and the yellow tooth;
Nor sweat nor howl nor break into a run
When loping Death's upon me in hot sooth;
'Twill be that in my honoured hands I bear
What's under no condition to be spilled
Till my blood spills and hardens in the air:
An earthen grail, a humble vessel filled
To its low brim with water from that brink
Where Shakespeare, Keats, Chaucer learned to drink.

(Edna St. Vincent Millay)
This most excellent canopy, the air,

This brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire
What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty!

O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
That has such people in't!

(William Shakespeare)
I will not subscribe to either vanity or bigotry from seeking to learn

Searching among the sparkling, soaring satellites as well as the stars
Gleaning knowledge that has come before me,

Surrounds me, resonates inside me, from the hearts, minds
Thoughts of other beings
No barrier to Source, for me, they rip the veils away

Birth of Chaos

Double Seed (CF)

"pattern, shaping and weaving,
unknown by any heart until now",
as poets take us into chaos.

In our vanity, fueled by greed and bigotry well trained;

we can imagine the limits of our imagination and perceptions
to be the limits of everything, including divinity --

yet there's a place where the Source holds sway
beyond the symphony we are graced to hear and thereby dance;
known only by remembering with our hearts.

(Chaos Has It's Own Reward)

Chaos, unpatterned, unconfigured, unchoreographed

Radiant rainbow of energy surges singing
Up from the essence, sweet dark wine from the soles of my feet

Baptizes in beauty the strength of my beating blood
Power of steps, unmirrored, unknown by any heart until now
I am filled with wings of freedom; In duende I dream ~ I Dance

Chaos and the dance

Chaos has its own reward

These random drops of color on the grass
form lines and blend

to pattern, shaping and weaving
steps begin to flow, and, as the color melds
the old gives birth to new choreography

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Confetti Joy

seed "confetti joy" (CF)

Confetti Joy Unveiled.

Like senseless dry rain they fall from PARCHed MENTality,

darkened clouds of deceitful promises and vaulted egos,
written on worthless tear stained tissue and smudged shipping tags,

shredded fine by Occam’s Razor and friendly talons of watchful falcons
so that you may ever dance beneath fluttering dreams,
waft by the whispers of innocence and selflessness.


Wednesday, July 06, 2005

I began dancing barefoot, throwing words at the paper like a confetti of joy

CF To Chaos

Remembering Who I Really Am, I Remove My Shoes

Oh no, my partner in this weaving dance,

I’ve never doubted your pattern, the purpose in your steps
The Goddess is, verily, your choreographer

The chaos is mine. Indeed . . . inherently, intrinsically, innately mine
I was raised on free verse, free movement
I began dancing barefoot, throwing words at the
paper like a confetti of joy

Dance Fitz (CF)

"a dance with no pattern",
'cept the waltz the Goddess gave me.

I know that my movements follow no set rules or form,

but that is because you are too close, hand upon my arm
to see how carefully I touch certain stones on the parquet floor.

All is chaos -- jumbled god-dreams and silent song;
yet as I believe there is a pattern hidden there,
I follow.
Pass the shuttle, wind the thread, a dance with no pattern

Weaving strands of beauty simply because they are beautiful,
Dance simply because the body moves, the heart will fly,

Needing no meaning, still . . . I do not dance alone, and so
I will spin, body, I will spin, thread, I will spin, I will

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Alone but never lonely

"I always knew I was alone in the room"

WINK (Fitz)

Gather your smile and kiss my brow
and dance on my heart in tune.
Toe to heel and passion reveal
as life's purpose is now undone.
Just wink at me in your passing
and caress my thoughts and dreams,
for your footsteps will even trace
on the faint scroll of evermore.

Be you now alone
I claim your attention.

Fitzgerald to Skadi

I sing into a empty room

Of stones and pain and dark bloods bloom
She smiles as she sits at her vein strung loom
Knowing full well I should not presume
To assume what I should not assume
Faces on the walls of a midnight tomb

I’ve always known I was alone in the room.

Monday, July 04, 2005

Cherita, Followed by Fitzgerald, Not that the Twain Won't Meet, But Rather That It Just Didn't

The trees, of course are of such knowing (faucon)

The trees, of course, are of such knowing

Hundreds of years of drinking, growing
Filled with sweet sap richly flowing

Nowhere to be up and going
Dance in place to the cool winds blowing
Knowing all, and all unknowing


What I don’t know could fill the universe to overflowing, were it written in petulant purpled prose as small as an ant’s eye, recorded minutely in Swahili or Eskimo calligraphy on the sticky backs of beer labels, peeled off whole by bored people who don’t even know enough to know how much they don’t know.

A hug with two Fitz

All you have to do is Understand (Winnie)

The trees, of course, are of such knowing

with plunging, heart seeking roots of Mother Earth
and heaven brushing needles kindly too soft for pain --

and yet we can learn but part of this wisdom,
for we can but hug a small section of yarning,
limited by the clenching of weary arms too short.


for such as thee and me, I am afraid

such wisdom is a journey of mind and soul,
from fact to information to knowledge to belief and on --

'till we too can 'stand under' what we know from blending
of mind and spirit in a swing of teathered love
'neath the spreading tree of creation.


Sunday, July 03, 2005

She came to the big trees
Listening to the green underpining
For the sound of echos
Her hands on the rough bark
She came to the big trees
It isn’t what people think
It is empty of what people think
All you have to do is
It’s that
It’s that

Friday, July 01, 2005

Yes, indeed, my comment on Fitzgeralds is a Fitzgerald

I have found - after having written quite a few Fitzgeralds - that I am now naturally coming in at or near 55, without even thinking about it. I seem to have just gained a natural “Feel for Fifty Five.” I usually need just a small adjustment or none at all. I’ve been very interested by this.

Already Close

I have found that the restrictions of the Fitzgerald
are probably derived rather than contrived --
I find all manner of things of about 55 word length.

One of my brothers sent me a thought
which required onth the addition of two words,
and a little rearanging to produce a
suitable Fitz.



Life Prepared me for You,
for I had learned …

Do not go for looks; they can deceive.

Do not chase love, it can run away.

Do not go for wealth; even that can fade.

Go for someone who makes you smile,
for it takes only a simple smile
to make a dark day seem bright.

I seek the one who makes my heart smile.