I am happy to announce that Lost Tower Publications will include my poem “Garden by the Sea” in their new anthology “Along the Shore” coming out April 2017.
Morning moves toward noon, a dim moon floats above the hill
It is a skull– In my head as in the eaves doves moan
Mondial irises bloom the color of shrouds
Under a cold sky the cedar trees shutter
The low groan the dog utters is from the chilly rain–
It has always been as the papers say, “Man found murdered
Near Saint Mary’s church” so much blood and pain, too little change.
Rayn Roberts 2017
Sometime before the land turned away from light
The wind in the wild mustard slowed
The sun, being where is always is, the moon too
Twilight and moonrise were in me.
Something small and quick sprang and ran.
The long grass bent as I watched the urge to chase
Corner and kill rise and fall inside me.
A hawk tucked wings, stooped from a great height
Was high in the air again, a ground squirrel in its claws–
The life of a large snake touched me, I watched
From grass to rock, sand on the road to sage
I heard the dry hiss where a lizard whipped out.
The serpent, licking the air with a pronged tongue
Coiled under a cactus tree, sang a warning–
This was no tree of knowledge, the rattler
Untouched by good or evil, is pure, perfectly pure.
I closed my eyes, sound and light opened the third eye
I saw a human face, half gleaming reptilian green
Half clear compassionate blue– There were no words,
No thought, I moved forward and became that face.
The splash of water on rocks
at the high end
vibrations move, ripple the surface
but not the sweet calm
a center of lotus and lily pads
like a quiet deep of sea —
But water arrives by many ways
to be a pond: fed by mountain-top rain
seeping to a circle of stone
where deer drink
turtles sun and dream white and gold
orange and black koi
rising and falling like ideas
frogs in a daze
noon only a notion here, and slowly
at low end, the water flows out
mind twisting through pines
senses thought concept reason time
enter the high end noisy waves
leave the low, fulfillment
running to the sea
If you find yourself in a Buddhist temple
You are not in a Buddhist temple.
Though you pray and chant for yourself
Night and day, you remain in Hell.
Living and dying, are the two not one
Happening at the same time?
A cobra lifts its head in your path.
Teach it to hiss, not bite. It is you.
Poem first appeared in “The Fires of Spring” by Rayn Roberts
It’s not the known that holds the secrets to knowing more.
There is more than what we see and know here and now.
Search the far reaches of the future
Dark womb of tomorrow
Understand the possible
Flowers in impossible gardens:
If we can link
One massive mind giving dreams
Making the many one,
How possible is One Mind
One Net of Energy, Web of Spirit?
It’s not what you see or know that can hurt or help you.
Be still as you move, keep an eye open for the invisible.
“The Web” first appeared in the book “Of One and Many Worlds” by Rayn Roberts @ Poetic Matrix Press