the wolf song
but we can and must try
and the bee song tree song
insect and amphibian song
the old songs
the flower nations
bird sisters bird brothers
sister moon brother sun and
lizard song
must sing the spring song
the old songs
the bee songs
wolf songs worm song
badger hare
and jay song
never forget the old songs
they are our heart ways
our pathways
the spirit way back
to our selves.
..
fr ‘Losing’ Myra Schneider)
..
Finding of socks in drawers
finding of hares and badgers
finding of lost keys
slipped-away memories
finding of rocks on beaches
forgotten Latin phrases
and blue-mooned evenings.
..
Finding of memories in your
……….lost and found mind.
Finding…….bus tickets
………………cinema slips
………………betting stubbs
………………tallys
………………keys
………………buckets, spades
..
years of sand in lost and found sandals
………and ‘here’s mud in your eye!’
as you slide down
……………………..the gulleys of childhood
finding your mind in hidden places
………behind sliding panels
………………velour curtains.
..
Finding the magician
………you can be
………………configuring swallows
………………wheeling, darting, around your head.
..
Become Blodeuwedd
becomes a stranger to yourself
become a stag of seven tines
a swallowed acorn, the salmon of knowledge
………bird with no name.
..
Become crying heads to fill
become a black Monday, or
torn away rhino horn.
..
Make sure each day is a finding
..
New moon
slivering sky, a
child’s fingernail.
..
Super moon red, harvested
harvest of squash, seeds and
pumpkins, harvest of thoughts
once hidden
………now emerging.
..
Time to harvest it all.
..
Time to unlock the key
that you are
Robin’s body
that turns the lock
into mornings
of autumn
………its low call,
………calling
………you home.
..
Footnote: crying heads to fill fr Migratory, Les Murray
I’m listening to my age.
It is humming of fear and fascination.
The bees inside my head sting me into waking.
..
I want to take the 59 bees –
wild, unswarmed – and place them
in the lift.
..
………The lift will take them down
to the basement.
..
………I hear them,
………………the bees.
They are angry inside their steel
………………grey coffin.
Their humming diminishes.
..
Now all I can hear is my breathing.
..
It is coming from behind
the ochre door.
The ochre door that sounds like spices
and Christmas.
..
..
One door is painted yellow
………………It sounds like madness.
I place my palm against its madness
………lean closer,
……………………..Listen.
..
The bees are back; they’re swollen with pollen.
..
Their brownblack furred back legs
………articulate their fury.
..
If I hold my breath
………they may not hear me.
If I take off my shoes
………………slip them
inside my pocket
……………..tiptoe along
………this hall to another door
I may find myself looking.
..
Perhaps this door, door of
cool cerulean,
………crustaceaned sky
may heal me.
..
Wolf moon, Snow moon, Worm and Pink.
And can you tell me again
the names of the moon at its full,
now I mean this December?
Pink, Flower, Strawberry and Buck
and when is the Sturgeon, Harvest
and Hunter? August, September
and October, when fields have been reaped
and harvest has is over.
November, the Beaver
before swamps freeze land and water,
frosty and cold before December
when long nights set in,
the moon before Yule
and always an extra moon
is needed.
the blue moon,
the fourth moon.
My moon is red-grained and Green Corn.
Yours is the Worm moon when ice is melting
and the cawing of crows calls spring to its table
when time is ripe for tapping the maple.
Now is December the cold moon, the blue
but light will soon lengthen,
when the Wolf moon is howling
at the harvesting of the moon, pumpkins
at the harvesting of the moon, seeds
at the harvesting of the moon full & red
at the harvesting of the moon, hunters
at the harvesting of the moon
..
this moon, now, full and yellow, harvested and fecund
food for the lonely, this moon of squash and honey,
this moon full and hardy, at the harvesting of the moon,
gather up the lonely, at the harvesting of the moon
gather up those awash in grief, gather them up
at the harvesting of the moon, the gathering
of the poor, the homeless, the young and the old
at the gathering, at this full moon, i mean, this
harvest moon aligned and full, this swelling of seeds
..
this goodness, the holding out of alms, of arms, & cups
& need, dispel at this full moon, the greedy, dispel, the fear
dispel the arrogant, dispel, dispel the sheerness & the shame
of power, the awful greed of desperation, in spell the lovely
in spell the glory, in spell us our human family, our daily need
or bread of love yeasted at the harvesting of the moon.
..
this moon i mean.
i mean, now, red and holy.
this moon of glory.
the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky 