Monthly Archives: October 2013

Magical Places

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Gracious 2012 by Drea Jensen Receptive, perfect and complete:  yet able to amplify the environment around us. May our integrity help us be surrounded by that which brings spiritual joy. http://dreajensengallery.artistwebsites.com/featured/gracious-2012-drea-jensen.html

Gracious 2012 by Drea Jensen
Receptive, perfect and complete: yet able to amplify the environment around us.
May our integrity help us be surrounded by that which brings spiritual joy.
http://dreajensengallery.artistwebsites.com/featured/gracious-2012-drea-jensen.html

Such Singing in the Wild Branches (2003)

It was spring
and finally I heard him
among the first leaves—
then I saw him clutching the limb

in an island of shade
with his red-brown feathers
all trim and neat for the new year.
First, I stood still

and thought of nothing.
Then I began to listen.
Then I was filled with gladness—
and that’s when it happened,

when I seemed to float,
to be, myself, a wing or a tree—
and I began to understand
what the bird was saying,

and the sands in the glass
stopped
for a pure white moment
while gravity sprinkled upward

like rain, rising,
and in fact
it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing—
it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed

not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,
and also the trees around them,
as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds
in the perfectly blue sky— all, all of them

were singing.
And, of course, yes, so it seemed,
so was I.
Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn’t last

for more than a few moments.
It’s one of those magical places wise people
like to talk about.
One of the things they say about it, that is true,

is that, once you’ve been there,
you’re there forever.
Listen, everyone has a chance.
Is it spring, is it morning?

Are there trees near you,
and does your own soul need comforting?
Quick, then— open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song
may already be drifting away.

— Mary Oliver

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Edge of the Water

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Fluent 2012 by Drea Jensen When we look through watery darkness, we find an expansion of golden light.  http://dreajensengallery.artistwebsites.com/featured/fluent-2012-drea-jensen.html

Fluent 2012 by Drea Jensen
When we look through watery darkness, we find an expansion of golden light.
http://dreajensengallery.artistwebsites.com/featured/fluent-2012-drea-jensen.html

Mary Oliver
Alligator Poem

I knelt down
at the edge of the water,
and if the white birds standing
in the tops of the trees whistled any warning
I didn’t understand,
I drank up to the very moment it came
crashing toward me,
its tail flailing
like a bundle of swords,
slashing the grass,
and the inside of its cradle-shaped mouth
gaping,
and rimmed with teeth—
and that’s how I almost died
of foolishness
in beautiful Florida.
But I didn’t.
I leaped aside, and fell,
and it streamed past me, crushing everything in its path
as it swept down to the water
and threw itself in,
and, in the end,
this isn’t a poem about foolishness
but about how I rose from the ground
and saw the world as if for the second time,
the way it really is.
The water, that circle of shattered glass,
healed itself with a slow whisper
and lay back
with the back-lit light of polished steel,
and the birds, in the endless waterfalls of the trees,
shook open the snowy pleats of their wings, and drifted away,
while, for a keepsake, and to steady myself,
I reached out,
I picked the wild flowers from the grass around me—
blue stars
and blood-red trumpets
on long green stems—
for hours in my trembling hands they glittered
like fire.

Everything Lost is Found

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Honey 2013 by Drea Jensen
May the divine feminine bless us all with her honey bees!
http://dreajensengallery.artistwebsites.com/featured/honey-2013-drea-jensen.html

 

Honey At The Table


It fills you with the soft
essence of vanished flowers, it becomes
a trickle sharp as a hair that you follow
from the honey pot over the table

and out the door and over the ground,
and all the while it thickens,

grows deeper and wilder, edged
with pine boughs and wet boulders,
pawprints of bobcat and bear, until

deep in the forest you
shuffle up some tree, you rip the bark,

you float into and swallow the dripping combs,
bits of the tree, crushed bees – – – a taste
composed of everything lost, in which everything lost is found.

~ Mary Oliver

Distance Between our Seasons

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Origami 2012 by Drea Jensen Something as simple as folding paper can create beauty. http://dreajensengallery.artistwebsites.com/featured/origami-2012-drea-jensen.html

Origami 2012 by Drea Jensen
Something as simple as folding paper can create beauty.
http://dreajensengallery.artistwebsites.com/featured/origami-2012-drea-jensen.html

ORIGAMI

Marjorie M. Evasco

This word unfolds, gathers up wind
to speed the crane’s flight
north of my sun to you.

I am shaping this poem
out of paper, folding
distances between our seasons.

This paper is a crane.
When its wings unfold,
The paper will be pure and empty.

Faithfulness

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Veracity 2011 By Drea Jensen

Veracity 2011 by Drea Jensen
Truth comes from the heart is what this painting invokes in me.
http://dreajensengallery.artistwebsites.com/featured/veracity-2011-drea-jensen.html

Little Summer Poem Touching the Subject of Faith

by Mary Oliver

Every summer
I listen and look
under the sun’s brass and even
in the moonlight, but I can’t hear

anything, I can’t see anything—
not the pale roots digging down, nor the green stalks muscling up,
nor the leaves
deepening their damp pleats,

nor the tassels making,
nor the shucks, nor the cobs.
And still,
every day,

the leafy fields
grow taller and thicker—
green gowns lifting up in the night,
showered with silk.

And so, every summer,
I fail as a witness, seeing nothing—
I am deaf too
to the tick of the leaves,

the tapping of downwardness from the banyan feet—
all of it
happening
beyond all seeable proof, or hearable hum.

And, therefore, let the immeasurable come.
Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine.
Let the wind turn in the trees,
and the mystery hidden in dirt

swing through the air.
How could I look at anything in this world
and tremble, and grip my hands over my heart?
What should I fear?

One morning
in the leafy green ocean
the honeycomb of the corn’s beautiful body
is sure to be there.

The Whole Story

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Poignant 2012 by Drea Jensen Looking back on what you have done can bring up many emotions. When sadness is seen in your past, look to the future and make it as positive as you can. http://dreajensengallery.artistwebsites.com/featured/poignant-2012-drea-jensen.html

Poignant 2012 by Drea Jensen
Looking back on what you have done can bring up many emotions. When sadness is seen in your past, look to the future and make it as positive as you can.
http://dreajensengallery.artistwebsites.com/featured/poignant-2012-drea-jensen.html

Breakage

BY MARY OLIVER

I go down to the edge of the sea.
How everything shines in the morning light!
The cusp of the whelk,
the broken cupboard of the clam,
the opened, blue mussels,
moon snails, pale pink and barnacle scarred—
and nothing at all whole or shut, but tattered, split,
dropped by the gulls onto the gray rocks and all the moisture gone.
It’s like a schoolhouse
of little words,
thousands of words.
First you figure out what each one means by itself,
the jingle, the periwinkle, the scallop
       full of moonlight.
Then you begin, slowly, to read the whole story.