triune goddess

maiden's tender wheaten shoots 

still stiff bend the earth,
stand at the threshold
ready to jump boundaries 

mother's cerulean love triggers life,

new precise coordinates join
tribe's unconscious

in tensioned struggle to name meaning

crone's penumbral time of collective forgetting,

cryptic umbral perceptions of life's wheel,

impulses at length deflected
oscillate, amplified, to the divine

For Fireblossom over at Shay's Word Garden who asked us to write a Flash Fiction 55. This prompt is combined with a previous wordlist of Hedgewitch from Jung and a poetry request from Mama Zen for a 37 word poem which I couldn't manage to do but started this. Here they all are in 55. I took the photo in the west of Ireland.

A Runner's 55

Finished the Florida half marathon in February
7th out of 47 women in my age group (65-69).
Felt good but I set a new goal: keep running
until 70 when I'm the youngest in the age group
and come in first. This woman of a certain age
likes to have something to aim for.


For G-Man's Friday 55. True story.

On the Jacksonville beach:

At the finish line:

Brother

He always wore his Boston baseball cap,
loved the game from young,
liked going with friends to watch players lap
the bases as if they were a necklace strung

together, it was the thrill of it all, anthem sung,
hot dogs eaten slathered in mustard and relish,
guys gathered, burdens rested, every moment embellished.



In the last photo of my brother four days before he died two weeks ago, he was with his friends. He was smiling in his baseball cap after going to a game with them. Looking happy. He was on his way to met a friend for coffee when he died. Just living his life. The suddenness is hard on those who loved him but it seems a good way to go. I'm glad for him. Offered for the G-Man's Friday 55 (counting the title).

Pour the Water, Stroke My Scalp

He pours warm water
slowly over my hair.
I close my eyes. He slathers
shampoo, massages my head,
uses long strokes from scalp

to neck, neck to scalp,
always changing pressure light to firm,
firm to feathery, then pours water again,
water at skin temperature,
poured again and again.


Victoria over at DVerse Poets Pub had us writing about memories and sensory descriptions. I don't know if this qualifies but this memory of my Honey washing my hair says love to me! As well, it's lusty (of an age 68 variety) words of love for Herotomost at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads. Finally, I also offer these 55 (counting the title) for the G-Man.

Family Calls

My granddaughter phoned today
excited about two things she can't tell me.
She said one was a present she made:
'It's small. Can you guess?'
I couldn't.
The second has to do with decorating:
'You're going to like this!'
Squeals and lots more 'Can you guess?'es
got me excited, too.
'Tis the season...
family calls...


Holiday 55 for the G-Man. My granddaughter is seven and I leave to see her and her family the day after tomorrow. I've made the usual promises to myself to keep writing, however, they live in the rain forest of Trinidad where internet connection is spotty. Forgive my lapses. But, I'm excited!

Mistress of Magic

Send barges through mists
where the veil between worlds drifts.
Land on the Holy Isle of Avalon
halfway between our world and Faerie.
Meet anew legendary women
as wise women and priestesses.
See the world when we worshiped
Great Mother Goddess in spiritual quest.
See the struggles when deity became masculine.
Behold all we lost.


Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Samuel Peralta shared 55 word summaries of books. He had us use 55 words to link to the G-Man. Here's my summary of Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley, my all time favorite book. It tells the Arthurian legend through the eyes of the women and becomes a portrayal of women's struggles to survive in a masculine world.

What I'm Most Grateful for Today at Age 67

I only want to kiss you I lamented when I lost my libido.
You said fine. I love that you only kissed me
for a long time until I asked for more. You obliged
and we discovered a whole new way to ignite
passion that found its fulfillment. Today,
I love you most for that.

55 for the G-Man - giving thanks for things that really matter.

Sister

dang sister of mine
don't learn pays no mind
to me no matter
her life splatter

just trying to help her
trying to save her
from clutches dragging her down
too far before she drown

she don't care one whit
feels good gets lit
lit brings no damn good
been where she goin' by god


For the G-Man on Friday who has us write a story in 55 words.

The Gathering

For ten years we've met,
the young women of our family
with two crones.
We've committed to each other,
grown closer, become friends,
as have our children,
three generations set the compass for change
in our lives, doing now
what will benefit seven generations hence
and relishing the journey,
our lives spiraled into new constellations.


The women in the photo above (my daughter and nieces together with my sister-in-law and me) just celebrated one decade of gathering together each year, spouses and children welcome, but with time set aside just for us to gather in a circle and re-connect. I wrote about it previously here and here. This year the next generation decided to take over the organizing of the gathering and expand it. They have some wonderful ideas. One decade has ended. The next has begun.

Offered for the G-Man's Friday Flash 55.

Late October Light

October sun slants through french doors,
fills the front room with light
angled low for fall, catches the ceramic lamp
hand painted with Italian countryside,

provides what the artist attempted. A villa sits
illuminated on the river bank,
a man in a boat feels his heart quicken:
first glimpse of home glinted with evening glow.


Offered this late October evening in Italy for the G-Man for Friday Flash 55.

Leafcutter Ant

You shouldered the leaf piece
seven times your size, marched
charted distances to your nest,
dropped it for inspection, already divorced
from the outcome- kept
or rejected. Another member marshals
leaf balance, the perfect number
of each to best grow fungus food.
You trudge forth to search
the next leaf fragment
offered to fungal cultivars.

Written in awe of leafcutter ants I saw in Trinidad's Northern Range Rain Forest who carry leaf parts to their nest to grow the fungus (true farmers) that feeds the colony. One I tracked carried an enormous piece he successfully deposited. Another ant inspects each leaf and accepts or rejects the piece based on the balanced needs of the fungus. Imagine carrying such a burden so far only to have it discarded?

The first photo shows a leaf cutter road that ran for 1/2 a mile. The second is the nest entrance. This nest was a mound 12-14 feet across. The third photo shows the ant I tracked under that long leaf piece.

It's all offered to the G-Man for Friday Flash 55.

Baptism of Desire

Baptism of Desire

Afterwards?
the spiral of memory,
a wrinkle in time,
sun under wood,
meadowlands,
leaves of grass,
the wild iris,
the mist-filled path.

Hope was here
my mad love,
the heart aroused,
anam cara.

Ain't I a woman
yearning for the wind
in a different voice,
nothing left to lose,
outside history,
saved by a poem?


In response to Samuel over at dVerse Poets Pub who writes about the hidden poetry in books and asks us to use only the title of books to form a poem. It's tricky but I had a good time trying. And, since it's Friday, it's 55 words for the G-man. Anam cara is Irish for soul friend.
Authors in order of appearance: Louise Erdrich, Rosamund Lupton, Frank MacEowen, Madeleine L'Engle, Robert Hass, Louise Gluck, Walt Whitman, Louise Gluck, Joan Bauer, Shay Caroline Simmons, David White, John O'Donohue, Illona Linthwaite (editor), Tom Cowan, Carol Gilligan, Natasha Head, Eavan Boland, Kim Rosen

We are Pilgrims

We are Pilgrims. We travel
disparate trails, leave
one name behind, take on a new one
for a new epoch,
leave behind what's no longer needed,
make room for something new.
Wisdom is knowing what to leave,
what to take on.
We search a different path
as we re-name ourselves.
What name will I release?

For Victoria at dVerse Poets Pub who asks us to write on a difficult subject using imagery or metaphor. This place of transition and not knowing is what's difficult for me just now. This metaphor was inspired by a talk I heard by David Whyte who says we are more marvelous in our simple wish to find the way than in what way we find. I like that. And it's 55 words for the G-man.
(photo was taken on a hike at Campo Imperatore)

Being There

My neighbor called
crying, afraid after
a bad night with her cancer,
no treatments left, far
from home, disheartened,
faced with the transition
that no one can grasp. Not really.
Nothing to do as her friend but be there,
give a hug, listen, listen some more, and
believe in her ability to navigate this
journey.

For the G-Man and the hope for a peaceful weekend. 

I Am Turtle

I bear the world on my back
but not as burden, shell strength
shared as old ones do. I'm keeper
of the doors between land
and water; shores are doorways to
other realms. Slow to earth's
pace, meet primal mother.
Feminine marks my body,
grounded, skilled
to survive, ancient
beyond remembering,
all I need
available.

In response to Shay's Fireblossom Friday challenge at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads to make an inner transformation to an animal. And for G-man for Friday Flash 55. Photo by my friend, Annee Delaware taken in Madrid.

"The Talk" - Friday Flash 55

Mother was having 'the talk' with me, she
made some vague reference to a little room
beneath my heart where a baby would grow some day.

What, I puzzled, A little room in my body? That grows
babies? Only years later did it occur to me that
she was naming a womb, not a room.

This is for the G man for Friday Flash 55 to tell a story in 55 words.

Woven with Desire

We were woven
with desire, you and I,
enticed by promises
to explore friendship 'til
flickers fanned to flames,
hearts unpacked of baggage
brought to this union, clamps
undone, bulldozed of notions
not exact to our particulars,
which missed us, served up
another story. Ours-
a simple giving to each
other, prayers projected
but exceeded.

This is woven from word lists of the inimitable Shay over at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads and offered for the G-Man for Friday Flash 55.

After Friday 55

Is it too late for Friday flash 55?
Phantasmagoric happenings
kept me from yesterday altogether.
It's carnival in Trinidad next week
and steel pan competition finals
now; swarms of people, loud music,
exotic costumes, dizzying dances, bacchanal
unimaginable to one from cooler climes.
Glitz and glitter, glam and clamor,
calypso, soca, frenetic,
jump up madness.

Besides a day late Friday Flash 55, this is in response to Laurie's prompt word: phantasmagoric over at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads. The photo is my granddaughter and her best friend in sparkly outfits.

Look Closely or Else

Just took a rain forest walk
and missed the snake wrapped round
a branch until the guide said to look
closely and see. It struck me that equivalents
happen each day- me walking by and missing
what's there until told to really look, to wake up
and pay attention, my task lest I get bitten.

A Friday Flash 55 for G- Man.
Ugh-my iPad app ate my post! It was up and had comments and disappeared! I'm trying again.

It's a Timeless Story

It's a timeless story
but so completely personal
that it feels like
mine alone, involves me
with these grands in a love affair
that's new even as they age,
each age better than the one before,
we play board games now and cards,
discuss, dance wildly, write, and when we write
it's a timeless story.


This is a Friday 55 in response to the prompt from Fireblossom at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads to write a poem with the first and last line the same but with a different meaning. It's not as easy as it sounds.