What Will It Take

WHAT will it take...

For the world to know Itself as One?

Defiance of Unity?

Allegiance to Autonomy?

Separation as an Entity?

Confusion a Reality?

War as Eventuality?

STOP IT! Just Stop.

In terms of Being 

We are One in Spirit and Humanity

Environment lives and breathes

We aspire...

Let us be open to a vision

of differences proclaimed, 

as every flower we know

has got a name,

yet no inherent cause to blame another species grown beside.

Let us awake to a truth inside....

We are ONE

Yet, even in Nature's way 

we see that conflict lives....

The forest overtakes the field 

as saplings sprout amidst 

the grass which came to be 

after a fire which leveled all there was to see....

How do we manage our Destiny?

Seeking the Light that we all require, let's not mob the place.

Every flower needs some space 

to live and grow!

Understanding this is So, and giving each their Due, 

Unity will follow through.

© Gerry Sackett, 2011

Touch-me-not; photo by Tony Russell

After the Storm

We waited for the late afternoon downpour

to turn to mist, 

when the front garden smelled 

of old worms, new earth.  

I stepped in the wet; 

it took my footprints 

with submission.   

The weeds had taken over the yellow

in the Yarrow, the patience in the Impatiens, 

and the blooms of begonia were beaten purple 

in the falling dark.

I handed you a claw to grab brown tangle 

that braided beneath Black Eyed Susans and Sedum,

Dianthus and Daylilies.

You tugged, arms outstretched, 

sweat rose over your lip like a first mustache, 

or the blister ballooning on the side of your finger.   

Quietly, dusk gathered under the umbrella 

of the Japanese maple.

We pulled the last interloper and headed to drink 

the run of cold water

from a hose coiled aimlessly 

in the side yard. 

© Susan Muse, 2011

Dianthus barbatus; photo by AutoGyro at Wikimedia Commons

To a Young Girl (Inspired by Maureen)

I remember you…

The first time you learned to skate.

And when you skied your first slope,

I remember your determination.

Then when spring came

You raced home from school

To do your homework in a tree.

I see you on the highest branch.

In dresses, jeans and silver heels,

You become a mixed collage,

And when summer flowers return,

I remember each variety as I

    remember you.

© Shelly Sitzer, 2011

Photo of Shell's painting of her daughter Maureen

Too-Tight Pants

My pants are tight, much too tight,
And I can't imagine why. 

They dig in my waist, pull at the seams,
And they hurt across the thigh. 

They fit so tight around the legs,
I can't even bend my knees. 

They're short in length and in the stride,
And I hope I won't have to sneeze. 

I don't quite know what I shall do
If I have the urge to cough. 

I'm sure that all my seams will split,
And my pants will fall right off. 

They're far too tight around the back,
And the zipper will not zip. 

I'm having trouble breathing, too,
If I bend down from my hip. 

I can't help wondering just why
These pants are so very tight. 

  Surely a person cannot grow 

Too big for their pants overnight! 

  I notice my little brother 

Is looking downcast and grim. 

  It seems that he has problems, too. 

His pants are too big for him. 

© Joyce Broughton, 1990

Too-tight pants; photo by lengtarang on Photobucket

Harvest

In winter,

when the sun is a dandelion

seeded with ice,

all I can give you of summer

is this fading red, yellow, orange

the fall tree released.

If I offer you

this harvest of light

gleaned from long days

with firefly twilights,

will you lift your hands

 into the sky,

two birds singing

songs of praise?

© Jean Sampson, 2011

Fallen leaves; photo by Tony Russell

I Am From: Second Thoughts

I am from the center of my mother’s world

from joy and compassion and uncertainty

from love nickels placed in the palm of my hands by my Nana

from Admiral St. and Orchard St. and Dickerman St.

I am from hot bread and starched dresses lovingly created by Nana

from patent leather shoes, white gloves, and 35 cent sundaes

from cheerleading and track and nursing school

into a family that blends this country with Nevis

I am from love and laughter and tears of joy

from silly laughter when it tickles my gut

from dancing and singing and tap and drums

from sweet potato pie and apple dumplings

I am from kitchen sink soup and cinnamon twists

from dancing school and girl scouts and weekend gatherings

from teaching and sharing and nurturing with joy

to blossoming into who I am

I am from the earth and the sky and the birds

from flights of ideas that race across the page

from song that flows from my pen to fill my soul

from you and us and we and they and all that is the universe

I am from the energy of love and joy and caring and compassion

from this world and the next and what is in between

from everywhere and nowhere and here and there

to bringing me love and caring to here and now

I am from almost not being here because it was almost taken

And so it is with gratitude that I come from what I am from!

© Hilda Ward, 2011

Sky and the flight of ideas; photo by Tony Russell

Cotillion

When the moon is full,

horseshoe crabs gather for mating

in the shallows of the inlet.

Huge primeval ones,

crusted with horny barnacles,

trailing ribbons of seaweed,

join with young ones half their size.

As the spring moon rises

over the salt marsh,

whispers of living creatures

murmur in the swaying reeds.

Though too dark for human eyes,

I picture a watery cotillion

where wise old warriors

pass on their ancient lineage.

Fewer come as years go by,

but still a remnant every spring,

at the full moon’s tide,

return to dance their watery drill.

© Peggy Latham, 2011

Photo: Horseshoe crab with barnacles, http://horseshoe-crabs.com/horseshoe-crab-pictures/