Tag: poetry

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Gaze of the Phoenix


As a traveller from a snakeless land
it is not the death of Python
I seek here Apollo,
but the life.

Waiting in the antechamber of your sanctuary
surrounded by familiar ghosts
a vision arises.
It is not the spirit of the future
that enters me
My heart is already well acquainted
with that descent.
It is she
the rising serpent power
that whispers from the past
" Treasure is strewn in all directions
of time and spac... Read More

Sonnet XI   Not in a silver casket cool with pearls Or rich with red corundum or with blue, Locked, and the key withheld, as other girls Have given their loves, I give my love to you; Not in a lover’s knot, not in a ring Worked in such fashion, and the legend plain – Semper Fidelis, where a secret spring Kennels a drop of mischief for the brain: Love in the open hand, no thing but that, Ungemmed, unhidden, wishing not to hurt, As one should bring you cowslips in a hat Swung from the h... Read More

Sufi Prayer   Know the world from end to end is a mirror; In each atom a hundred stars are concealed. If you pierce the heart of a single drop of water, From it will flow a hundred dear oceans; If you look intently at each speck of dust, In it you will see a thousand beings; A gnat in its lines is like an elephant; In name a drop of water resembles the Nile, In the hearts of a barley corn is stored a hundred harvests, Within a millet seed a world exists. In an insect’s wing is an ocean o... Read More

My True Love Hath My Heart   My true love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange, one for the other given. I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss: I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss; There never was a better bargain driven. His heart in me, keeps me and him in one, My heart in him, his thoughts and senses guides: He loves my heart, for once it was his own: I cherish his, because in me it bides. His heart his wound received from my sight: My heart was wounded with his wound... Read More

Marriage Amulet   You are polishing me like old wood. At night we curl together like two rings On a dark hand. After many nights, The rough edges wear down.   If this is aging, it is warm as fleece. I will gleam like ancient wood. I will wax smooth, my crags and cowlicks Well-rubbed to show my grain.   Some sage will keep us in his hand for peace.   Nancy Willard   Touching   I gently touched her hand: she gave A look that did my soul enslave; I pressed her rebel l... Read More

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