The Poet's Room

Author at Two       Written from the subconscious   Buddha Blues   even seems a bit strange to me. Only a few seconds ago brushing my teeth I thought about the strangeness of having an Unabridged Dictionary as a plot device. I recall, my mother had a large dictionary on the bookshelf in the living room.  I loved to pull the book off the shelf then lay on the floor in the middle of the living room flipping through the pages. Not unabridged her dictionary had wonderful illustrations of words on each margin which I enjoyed looking at before reading the meaning of the words. With that memory the fact that subconsciously an Unabridged dictionary became part of the book takes on an interesting significance.     The working title for the book now subtitle Strange To Be Me  also seems a bit strange. A person would think somebody entering their seventy-second year would be completely aware of who they are. Yet my spiritual journey continues to unfold. The picture of me at two surfaced while sor

      Kokopelli an enduring symbol from the southwest, found carved, painted on stone cliffs and on ancient pottery for over a thousand years. The stories told about Kokopelli focus on this flute playing trickster god as bringer of fertility for women, crops, and animals. A joyful figure dancing and playing. His flute music the harbinger of spring.       From the Mideast the nativity scene. A celebration of the birth of a child at the winter solstice. Renewal on the darkest night of the year. In the Christian tradition the child is Christ. Even on the darkest starry night the light of life is renewed. The continuation of life a reminder of the creative energy being brought forth again and again. Each year.       I wrote a book length poem "The Waste Land Revisited" about humanities successful dysfunction leading to global warming. I worked for a year on the poem. The poem starts with April as the month of conception for the longest time felt that something was missing from it

Goldilocks - Home Wrecker More overwhelming absurd news may prove that whoever said, "Truth is stranger than fiction," may have been in touch with True Karma. Three stories follow one true, one partially true and one a spoof. Check your social media sophistication by figuring out how to sort truth from fiction. (All revealed at the end.)             First a Bear Story from childhood!  Goldilocks & The Three Bears: The girl Goldilocks broke into the Three Bears Home, broke a chair, ate their porridge, pooped in the toilet, didn't flush, made a mess, fell asleep in one of their beds. They woke her when baby bear exclaimed, "My someone's been sleeping in my bed, and here she is." She got up jumped out a window without even saying, "Thanks for breakfast and not eating me," and ran away. Goldilocks, although easily recognizable due to her hair was never brought to justice for breaking and entering. Did this give rise to the myth that Blonds Have Mor

A Fowl Reading           "Fair is Fowl, and fowl is fair," said the three witches in Macbeth. But what did Shakespeare know? I cry. Fowl! Fowl! Fowl! Senator Ted Cruz,  who is vaccinated, and who has said "I believe in vaccines" bless him tweeted that Sesame Street's Big Bird, that gangly yellow, soft spoken Muppet, is a yellow bellied government propagandist out to undermine our vulnerable American children who can't help but adore him. What did Big Bird do that's so  egregious now that a vaccine has been approved for children ages 5 to 11?     Horror of horrors Big Bird tweeted, naturally what else would a bird do, "I got the Covid-19 vaccine today! ...wings a little sore, but it'll give my body an extra protective boost that keeps me .... healthy."  Nothing so diabolical has happened since Socrates attempted to get the youth of Athens, back in the day, to seek Truth. Socrates paid for that with his life! Republican right wing propagandis

Wild Cherry Tree -- Swan Pond       October  breathes cool mornings as leaves change toward true colors. As summer fades, daylight hours grow shorter and shorter. Plants reflect the changing seasons with late flowers and the promise of life turned into ripening seeds. Strange to look at seeds so  hard and dry and imagine what promise they may   hold through long cold frozen winter.       Wild Cherry Blossoms       In our lives we too move through seasons of change. Whether we want to or not the longer we live the older we grow. If lucky that is. Our lives change. We suffer growing pains. This past year with the start of Covid I decided to retire from how I made a living. I left the life of being an environmental engineer and mitigation contractor. Not with the idea of doing nothing. Nor to sit around  twirling  my thumbs or  just parking my butt on the couch to wonder what comes next. Opportunity knocks now for me to seriously do what I believe I was put on God's green Earth to do.

Little Green Heron*               Although the gray beard seems destined for white t he boy inside remains alive and well. Always enjoys exploring and observing nature. Being there, in the moment with blue sky, clouds, wind, rain, trees, plants and wildlife. Yesterday another jaunt at Swan Pond. The path that starts at Swan Pond passes three bodies of water. Swan Pond proper near the road,  then a small pond without a name and over the hill the huge shallow water wetland originally called Lake Barney.  In theory I walk for physical exercise. Yet I'm always stopping to observe. Taking pictures of what I see to share!           First this evening a dozen White Egrets in Swan Pond standing, wading, hunting, ready to strike. Several Great Blue Herons along the shore line. Mallard hens with half grown ducklings feed in the middle of the pond. Next I stop to check out the ripening Elder Berry. Take a picture before I put my hand under the ripest looking bunch. Just a touch to let dark r

Leaves, Green Hand -- The Entwining Spiral of Life *       Tree **  Eats brilliant sunrays Uplifts feathered green arms Bridges blue sky, brown earth.       Not only do I talk to trees, I touch trees. Yet who touches whom? Where does the impetuous or desire come to lay my hand on a tree, feel the bark, leaves, branches, and twigs. To commune with nature through tactile contact.  The book, The Heart Beat of Trees,   details research on the benefits we humans receive from being in the presence of trees. The author a German forester took a television personality out into the woods to measure the physiological impact on her body. First though he measured  her blood pressure and pulse rate while walking in a city. Not surprisingly her blood pressure and pulse rate dropped in the forest. Japanese researchers tested subjects, no not white mice,  real humans, some subjects they sent to visit a forest and some subjects they sent to walk in the city. They found that cancer killing cells and anti