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Love Incarnate Waking Blue Fields
Window by the sea Vernal Equinox Scarlet
Peace Dreaming You Gold and Song
Chosen Child Pearl Nocturne
Like a Lover Know Her Name
Star Dreamer
Visions Water Journey
toward eden Poet to Poet
The Artist's Eye Mountain High
Elvira Madigan
Night Sky Book of the Night
Far From Rome
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Love Incarnate

If I believed in anything

beyond myself,

the sun, moon and stars,

it would be God, the Mother,

not a male who never felt the pangs of birth,

and could with cold indifference

watch the wanton rape of virgin earth.

He mocks the very name of Heaven

who sets his innocent progeny

upon a killing course

and does not teach that war and killing

are a villain's sport.

There had to be God, the Mother,

tender to the heart.

Who else would jewel the universe with stars,

pour out the cool blue seas,

grace the nascent land with flowers,

birds and fruiting trees;

call it Eden, then conceive a miracle

in the feminine form of Eve.


The house itself

is stretching, creaking

in the rousing wash of dawn's

first grey; the sun's

forehead is peeking at the day;

its face still indigo from

sleep, its cloudy head

uncombed and tumbling vapour

curls upon the softly

rumbling sea.

The birds are waking

in the silent trees; a single

song is carried on the

quickening breeze; a flurry

of wings as feathered scouts

take flight to meet and greet

half way the rising light.

While still in sleep

I faintly hear the homey

sounds of morning

in my dimly listening ear,

and opening a dreamy eye

see on the bedroom wall

a single ray; the first

gold glimmer of the waking day.

Blue Fields

Kissing my eyes from dreamless

sleep; waking love's sweet

sudden fire, he taught me to say

I need, I want, and led me, unafraid,

into the blue fields of desire.

window by the sea

on the table in the unoccupied room

a convoluted shape,

a strange vessel

of sonorous properties;

while in the closed forgetfulness

of the window frame

is set, so soon,

the scintillating septet of stars,

and anguish, this midnight,

bears like a candle flame

many a twilight dream.

Vernal Equinox

Above the dark mass of trees the first star

glimmered like a moth; the pale sky a tranquil sea

upon which the single white star floated.

In the dusk all the colors of the world became

more beautiful, ardent, yet sad; the young greenery,

still naked and twiggy, a tracery of blue.

A faint breeze touched the tips of the trees,

from which petals of cherry blossoms fell

like snow flakes out of season

and a multiplicity of stars appeared

shimmering like angel tears.

Lovers caught out on such a night gave voice to pleas

and promises; climbed up the stairs of exaltation,

reached summits and pinnacles of joy

beyond which there is only the slow death of delight.


Rain summer kisses

on my autumn lips;

make the roses of desire


with a passionate perfume.


On spring evenings I wait

for this slow light, this soft light

start to seep, blush blue

out of the upper right hand corner

of space, darkening down

through the clouds, the solemn pines

and flowering plum.

With the night's increase

even the birds hush,

and then there is only silence,

the first star and peace.

Dreaming You

I dream your essence

into the air

and inhale you

like the scent of lilies.

I dream you are the sea,

fathomless as time

and submerge myself

in your mystery.

At night I dream you

are the moon,

your glow falls on my bed,

where it touches me I burn.

Gold and Song

Summer was cruel.

Autumn was kind.

Winter was cold and long,

but Spring,

when it came,

was all gold and song.

Chosen Child

Soft eyed with summer

dreams; bewitched

by moonlight,

she dances barefoot

in the dew cool

grass of a country garden.


By its very nature she
feels smooth as silk
and warm as skin

a glowing, growing
oyster stone
scar tissue
a friable accretion

a wound
become belated beauty
in completion

a water gem
the scalloped shell
its cradle/crypt

a sea sonnet
a salt haiku
a lyric poem
of transformation.


The sun surrendered

to the green embrace of the sea;

stars immediately appeared

streaming along in the grip

of the galactic current,

and in the heartbreaking beauty

of the summer night the moon

hung like a scared gong;

ancient with wisdom and desire.

Like a Lover

Still deep in dreams

while beauty

in a milk white moon


through my open window

the perfume

of star jasmine

slipped in

on a wisp of wind

and roused me

like a gentle lover.

Know Her Name

Mystical, invisible;
free to roam
in time and place.
All secrets of the world
are open to her.
Her dreams of beauty
become reality.
She is a shaft of burning
light; a river
rushing to the sea.
Disguised as cloud
winds carry her.
She falls as rain
cool and clear as tear drops.
Sun and Moon covet her.
She is life and death
Gaia is her name.

Star Dreamer

In dreaming night
I was a white winged bird
that flew so high
I saw the tops of stars

and earth
was but a clouded jewel
an amethyst
half dark...half light

though awed
by the celestial sight
was my dreaming flight.


Through a prism

that like a wizard's wand

trick the viewer's sight,

colored visions form

in the rays

of fractured light.

Crimson conjures up

a fiery volcano's eye,

azure is fabled

Atlantis' liquid sky.

Sapphire, ruby, gold,

like gems some ancient

Pharoh's crown might hold

and in a flash

of blue-white fire

as from a galaxy afar

the ethereal beauty

of a shooting star.

Water Journey


in perpetual mist

their dream sleep


by light laughter

of snow melt streams


to rivers eager

for the sea

where history lies

in milk white

mammoth bones

coral encrusted


and silent stones.


Ancient tree

watcher of time

the dawns and dusks

of a thousand, thousand

days, dreaming eternity.


We are the air

that lifts

the soaring bird,

yet flesh

of Eden's earth.

Our souls

are made of fire,

and we are

all the waters

of the world.

toward eden

take my hand
don't be afraid
I know the way
through the dark woods
and into day

see the sun?
that's where we're going
out of the valley
of perpetual night
into the land
of golden light

to a flowering garden
jeweled with dew
where the peacock
and scarlet ibis
beside a sea
of dreaming blue

peace and beauty
will be ours to share
don't give up
we're almost there.

Poet to Poet

Souls touching

free from the tyranny

of flesh

our passionate spirits

leave no songs unsung.


Surf sown along high tide lines

Tree trunks and limbs cast among shells

Laced with seaweed; bark stripped, heartwood gone,

Sand blasted by the whim of weather, recycled

To an altered state; a study in shades of gray,

Though essence persists like memory

An anonymous castaway.

The Artist’s Eye

Framed within my window a canvas
Of ever changing cloud compositions hover
Over a distant background of dense green tree tops
And the slanted dabs of gray and brown roofs.
From the upper left corner smoky blue stratus clouds
Drift slowly across the sky. In the blue foreground
An indolent cumulus billow floats towards
A small piece of rented cirrus gauze lazing in its path;
Approaching each other they reach out from
Webby edges to meet like the Sistine Chapel cloud
God to touch Adam’s straining finger tips.

Mountain High

On the slopes the air was soft and cool,
As if it came from hidden tracts of snow.
The evening seemed to stretch itself over
Enormous hidden streams of time,
And my soul became reflective, sad,
Desirous and trembled like a note held too long.
Though I was sitting silent as a stone,
I felt as if I were standing next to an abyss
Of white cloud glaciers, gazing like the moon
In deep and vacant sadness
Into the black water of the sky lakes.


Elvira Madigan

A piano and violin are playing a lament
To summer’s end; imparting to suffering
An exquisitely painful range of colors
That simply does not exist in reality.
The unending intensity, the sweet agonies
Of their notes are beyond beauty.
The piano falls silent and the violin
Wanders on alone, with eyes closed
I see a field of golden grain; a young girl
In a long white dress, her face
Shaded by a wide brimmed hat
Her pale arms filled with wild flowers.

Night Sky

Draw the curtain to one side, what do you see
Besides your face, your fear and the stars?
Have you not yet learned to smile
At the losses you have sustained?
What do all the passions and sorrows mean
When set against this pure passionate sorrow
With which we try to read in the stars the mystery
Of life’s meaning; that stubborn passion
That persuades us that only when the mystery
Is revealed shall we discover
The secret of our souls, and until then…


Book of the Night

I love the night for she wears no veil.
In the day my nerves are pulled and stretched
Until they threaten to snap but, at night,
The moon comforts me, the stars cool radiance
Revives my ragged nerves and I recover
From the tribulations of the day; and within me
A new sensation of self emerges
That is like stepping suddenly in front
Of a mirror that has not received a single ray
Of light for days and days, and drinking
It in greedily, holds out my own face as an offering.

Far From Rome

In that rustic scene among rubble and rocks
Are two stone sarcophagus lids.
Stretched out full length on them
Is the couple for whom they were carved.
It’s easy to imagine them under the trees
Where they rest as if on some trip
into the country, seeming just to have waked
From a brief siesta that has lasted for 2000 years.
Her hair has been done in tight little curls
According to the fashion of the day.
Their heads are turned toward each other
In a long look, a tender loving look
That has survived the millennia
And will last forever.
I am not surprised at all that it’s still there.
As a symbol of love and eternity.