poetry for a new epoch

Archive for April, 2012

Still Waters

Still waters
a clear grace of mirror eyes
dripping tears as rain
leaving rainbow reflections on the plain
Nature reveals herself… everything
a quiet secrecy, unfolding
for you and me

Still waters
where shadow mists keep longing
in the afternoon falling
there is a deep sound, calling
wild roses attending
Paradise Lost, last its dissolving
tracking your face for me

Still waters
the path is full with stardust
entwined memories of ancient forests
your drawings on the wall
they are the sky
when I’m lying on the ground
dreaming of you and me

Still waters
the wolves disturb its silence
with their solitary presence, singing
and the Moon is shining,
hiding behind the sun
a silver crimson growing,
greeting you and me

Author: Kay March
Creative Commons License


Where the world makes sense

I let my head on this pillow, everytime I sink
Where all the heavy thoughts rest and the heart sings
Between the world’s pain and my agony, there is a place.

I close the eyes, I breathe, I rise and I’m there again
I’m the same child again, chasing the summer breeze
Carrying all the colorful dreams on my shoulders
With eyes as big as the waves, and a heart where birds nest
There, where every butterfly takes colors from my palms
And the thirsty deers come drink from my spring
There where the world made sense.

I’m there, and the restless mind is home for peace
When you told me joy had features and a face, my face
I touch the sandy beach, and one heart is never enough
I eat from every daisy in the white field, I drink the morning dew
I cover my cold skin with sunlight and sunflowers petals.

Every now and then, I let my head sink, I let the world sink
I go back where I can hug the sky and walk on foamy clouds
Where I can be a little bird, that small daisy in a white field
There, where mercy is rain and the world makes sense.

Author: Saida BUL.
Creative Commons Licence



I know not the shape
this sorrow makes,
elusive, bleak, unknown,
or what resolve it takes
to seek and taste it’s edge.
Scrape at this place of heartbreaks
and face myself, alone.
Feel my furtive way,
steal some silent grace.
To chase this empty grief
down to the real heart bone.

We seek the shape of what is lost
and keep alive, through speech,
the spirit of all we do not own.
Win redemption by giving voice
to each name of all that dies.
Rejoice in the joy of living,
of giving, forgiving, leaving behind
the names of all those things
we thought we required
but can, safely, leave behind.

Reach this moment. Now.
I find my soul is heart shaped
and inspired. Contained
yet unbounded. It sings
unrestrained, the things of life
and finds all fear unfounded.
So dance! This sacred dance.
in which we all play our part.
Yearning, deep rhythm rooted
in the turning of the earth,
the seasons and the tide.

Eternal Birthbeat of my ever giving heart.
This breath. My Heart Voice.
Speaking now. My Soul Song.
I long, simply, to make contact,
nurturing the hint of grief
present in every loving act
and know the relief, human needs,
in touching something, someone
outside of myself. That is not me,
yet is me. To just Be. To know
the Eucharist of each risen sun.
The Beltaine moment. To bring
forth hope and love. Fix seeds
into the rich soil of my sorrow.
and above all, feel faith to know
in that moment a rose has begun to grow
and it will brighten my tomorrow.

Author: kozmikfish
Creative Commons Licence