our wildness on the mirror of time

Jacaranda mimosifolia
Jacaranda mimosifolia

no mendacity in the natural world ~ just an
untamed grace in the meditative industry of ants,
in the peaceable company of small creatures
going about the business of food finding
and mating and homemaking in the loam of
this province, the republic of innocence

here is the soul-filling beauty of sun rising over
jacaranda as she paints her joy on a blue dawn;
robin with her russet-hued breast hunts for worms,
her instinctive motherhood proud of babies
 in
the spar and scrap of nest life . . .  it is in this -
the uncivil cosmos – that the gentle breezes

dance with us on our mud-caked travels along
ripening pathways through meadow and brush;
as the flaxen sun shifts from rise to fall,
our hearts beat with their ribbons of ruby life,
pulsing with ebbs and flows of love and fear ~
soon – we know –  clouds will gray with the

inevitable dark and shivered moon will show
her craggy depths, sooty with doubt and danger,
our earthiness projecting its own shadows;
still we trust nature’s homilies, content in this
province where we’re left to be ourselves, left to
write our own wildness on the mirror of time

How near to good is what is wild.” Henry David Thoreau

Today is Writers’ Fourth Wednesday. Please feel free to link in a work of yours for this event sponsored by The Bardo Group and hosted by Victoria C. Slotto. Details are HERE. Your participation would be most welcome

© 2013, poem and photograph, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved

sleeping with the moon

IMG_20140525_105329557garden speaks through its flowers ..
a dharma talk on cosmic truth, its syntax
is the rush of joy and different hues
written on the harmony of loam,
of grey rock and sturdy leaves ~
an elemental symphony …

a webbed raiment as transient as foam, a
feral scent flirting with a lilting breeze,
a few sleepy stepping-stones along the
path and the budding, the blooming, the
falling into decay, undisturbed by worldly
cares, a green nirvana of prickly branches

and cherry trees, the wildish thorned
rose and the innocent daisy, palm fronds
and color spectrums, no burdens, just an
isness of small beings embracing the earth,
dancing with the sun, sleeping with the moon

The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.” Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), Japanese poet of the Edo period

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© 2014, poem and photographs, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; photos taken with a Moto G

through the ache of time

Jamie Dedes:

My poem today on The Bardo Group blog …

Originally posted on THE BARDO GROUP:

720px-52706main_hstorion_lg see it moving – Life!
moving through the ache of time
seeking that place
where identity isn’t worn on a sleeve,
where individuals challenge the tribe,
where beauty frees itself from convention,
where the chains of fear dissolve

- Jamie Dedes

© 2013, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved * Photo credit ~ NASA, U.S. Public Domain

photo-on-2012-09-19-at-19-541JAMIE DEDES (The Poet by Day)~ I am a mother and a medically retired (disabled) elder. The graces of poetry, art, music, writing and reading continue to evolve as a sources of wonder and solace, as a creative outlet, and as a part of my spiritual practice.

View original

do not make war in your heart or upon your mother’s body

Cliff House from Ocean Beach
Cliff House from Ocean Beach

1.

it must be painful for them to write, those poets in tough-times and hard places
where blood and tears and poverty contaminate the air, stain the sidewalks, and consume the people

the blood must be soul-sick and rusted and tasting of acid, not salt,
and the poems meant to heal the writer and stroke the cheeks of the wounded,
to dry their eyes and gently kiss their gray heads

to poem in such places must be like walking shoeless on glass shards

perhaps the most sacred thing in the dream-time meadow of poets’ desire is Light ~
can you awaken to meet the Divine on the battlefield, in the camps, in government housing or in the ghettos?

if so, you are a saint, not simply an artist

2.

in my small world, my civilized world, people fall asleep reading or after making love or playing in the yard with their children
if they wander, it is through books or planned travel
there are luxuries
there is food
there is cleanliness and paper on which to write
no bombs are dropping to scorch and scar the Earth

there is a certain dignity

3.

in San Francisco we walk along the beach at night, near the Cliff House
we walk to the sound of the waves, the sound of the Earth chanting its joys
our feet are bare and relish the comfort of cool sand

the air is clear and cold and easy to breathe, tasting of salt and smelling of sea life ~
here is a pristine moment of peace

i want to bequeath this peace to you, to everyone,
as though it were a cherished heirloom
it is really a birthright

i want to plunge into the waters and gather the ocean in my cupped hands, to offer it to you as sacramental wine

i want to form seaweed into garlands for all of us to wear, to hang over our hearts, a symbol of affection

i want to collect pine cones from the trees that congregate along the coast and feed them to the children to remind them to cherish this Earth and all its creatures, themselves included, and to say …

do not make war in your heart or upon your mother’s body

This is my post for The Bardo Group’s Valentine’s Day event: Bloggers in Planet Love. It is an older piece that I’ve have rewritten for this occasion. Please join us HERE and share the url to a post of yours that expresses your love of the Earth and nature or your concerns about the environment.

© 2013, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved
Photo credit ~ BrokenInaglory via Wikipedia under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported