Secret Garden~ 36:52

What she planted
at dawn bloomed only at dusk
You show me her…

secret gardenSource   Lisa Falzon

Secret Garden

What she planted
at dawn bloomed only     at dusk
You show me      her

photo     and

we put stick to dirt
connect all stars to
sirens      birds to
ghosts of salamanders   that

now rule       rivers    flowing empty
beneath us.

© & P. Copyright~ Tara Linda
Inspiration:   The salamanders we used to find, when digging in the garden. I refuse to think they’ve gone extinct for lack of water, preferring their new place of residence to be a secret garden deep below us, near the water table.  Here is one of my Sage gardens filled with young CA Native sages, succulents, flowers.  😉

SageChula2014_2299[1]

Prompt:  Weekly Poems/52

Bailiff 35:52

Bailiff
you scan the room eyes travel wide
and land long
as I pick up my badge And later
after lunch again your eyes lock mine…

Bailiff

you scan the hall           eyes travel wide
and land         long
as I pick up my badge   beside 300 others   And later

phase II  after lunch this time your eyes      lock
mine as you announce      full volume  Ladies and gentlemen
no gum in the courtroom please       watching as I  slowly

swallow

And later          when we all get lost    taking sides
piecing together     what ifs    with how whys         I hear
my name      gather my things to

approach

the bench      turn to find       you suddenly              
smiling taking the badge from my hand       here let me help
            as someone says

Dismissed!

copyright: Tara Linda

Prompt: Lunch Poems~Frank O’Hara

Today, I begin, again, my poem-a-week challenge PoemX:52. I did it last year, but I’ve no idea how many I’ve written, posted, or not posted this year before today. So I’ll start with as many weeks are there are left (17) of the year of 52 weeks. If my math is right. Just one poem a week; how hard can that be? And lots of tiny ones on Twitter in between.  Join me!! Post a link to one of your own poems here, in a comment, and on every post with a poem in it so we can encourage each other.   And to my 110 followers~~ thank you! 😉

Offering

Awakening
is our first offering
praise…

Awakening
is our first offering
praise, an open eye taking in
first light, space, color ~
A stretch, body’s first gift of
movement, vibration, cells alighting,
muscles expand, remembering~ Gratitude.
Warm contentment, Freedom before thought
weightless presence, first breath,
Joy ~ our ultimate prayer.

TaraLinda c.p. 2014

flowerM5211

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Fishscale Stasis

I saw you tonight, just after sunset, plucking small scales from
sand, the Pacific rolled back as far as vast, timeless- your slate cleaned by
expanse, even the crabs withdrew in yearning, your tears glistened grey
breaching…

I saw you tonight, just after sunset, plucking small scales from
sand, the Pacific rolled back as far as vast, timeless- your slate cleaned by
expanse, even the crabs withdrew in yearning, your tears glistened grey
breaching a swell, a strait, the dunes of your cheeks, hope and fog swirling

cumulus above       hurt. These are the vistas you will forget by
morning, as you place each scale like a sequin on the bare skin of your
shoulders, filling in blanks, erasing vulnerable, to become or shed, a counterbalance mended in

dreamtime, where only the fish know, pelagic ones drinking down your tears each
night, swimming into bays, spits, coves, to shed more scales to help you
cover, mend, soothe that pale membrane, the cool damp of your exposed
back, where raven’s wings have stopped     just shy of          whole, full,
metamorphosis fettered, that stasis where truth
shivers itself warm.

    Tara Linda c. 2014

il_570xN.415703459_pmyoSource: Nicolas of MyAntarctica

Stasis:  A state of stability in which all forces are equal and opposing, therefore they cancel out each other.

:a state or period of stability during which little or no evolutionary change in a lineage occurs.

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Leaving~ 3 Short Forms

Strangers
leave everyday,
so why tears
when you hug me
goodbye—?

2 years ago, for NaPoWriMo, I was taken by the efje- a short poetry form of 5 lines said to have originated in the Netherlands.  Words- not syllables:  1.2.3.4.1

LEAVING

-Efje-

Strangers
leave everyday,
so why tears
when you hug me
goodbye—?

-5 Lines-

There he goes,
another friend
packing his truck, high
with all the things
we forgot to say.

– Random

Waving goodbye,
a slow motion blinks while
houses peel their paint in more ways
than we found Words
But all good wishes
all the same.
Suerte.

aaspring-0003

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Iron Boy/ Silk Weaver~ Myth

Day 2 Prompt: NaPoWriMo: An uncommon myth~
Wind came whispering~ I am coming with storms,
fierce dark clouds in my command, will fill valleys, canyons, even arroyos with rivers-
And all will carry my waves, five days strong. Feel my way. See my words.

Based on NaPoWriMo’s Day 2 prompt: An uncommon myth. Native legend

**************************************************

Wind came whispering~ I am coming with storms,
fierce dark clouds in my command, will fill valleys, canyons, even arroyos with rivers-
And all will carry my waves, five days strong. Feel my way. See my words.

Boy thought of Her, the Great Weaver, cocoon filled, eggs awaiting
their day. Creator Spirit Spider- how will she thrive? I must go, he said, move her
from loss, destruction, this wayward wind, take her from this flood. Believe me. See me.

At cave’s entrance, Spider Woman felt Boy approach, stopped her spinning, saw his worry wearing raw a sweetgrass basket, hands and nerves, searching for words…
‘Iron Child, she said, where will you take me, me and my young to fill this world? Hear me, answer me.

Silk Maker- I must take you on a journey to Mesa, keep you safe. He began to untie her silks wrapped tight to Cocoon, unweaving each fiber from its hold. With trust, Mother Spider climbed atop Creation’s cocoon, let Boy gently lay them inside Basket. Sleep now, while I fly.

Clouds came. Chaos Wind with sand from moons away. Boy quickening his steps, outran wind, its deluge, ran until he saw Window on Worlds, highest mesa, but the ground before him was wild, a churning sea. Tumult. Spider could feel fear well up in Boy’s heart. Shhhh Boy, hold fast, hold tight.”

With this, Spider Woman threw one long thread, from her longest black arm, strong and high
over sea and wind to juniper of mesa. It’s thread thick, doubled and braided itself, triplet and taut, made a rope, a road, a bridge, a way, for Boy and his Basket. Iron Boy, Spider Woman and all of Creation.

Inspired by a story of a girl saving spiders and the Hopi Creation Myth. Spider Rock- Canyon DeChelly

613px-Spider_Rock_1

http://www.native-languages.org/legends-spider.htm     Spiders play important roles in the mythology of many Native American tribes. In Southwestern tribes, spiders are associated with the culturally important art of weaving, and wise spider goddesses give their assistance to the people as culture heroes. On the other hand, many Plains tribes feature Spider as a rough trickster god, ranging from an inappropriate but entertaining rogue in some stories to a violent and slightly deranged criminal in others. To the Osage, spiders were a special symbol of patience and endurance. To the Blackfoot, they represented intelligence and skilfulness. The Ojibwe associated spider webs with their dream catchers, a type of traditional hand-woven Ojibwe craft meant to filter out bad dreams which has become popular among many tribes today. And to many Native Americans, it still is considered bad luck to kill a spider today.

Spiders are also used as clan animals in some Native American cultures. Tribes with Spider Clans include the Hopi tribe, whose Spider Clan is named Kookyangwngyam or Koking-wungwa.

 

Unravel

This visit,
when I came to see you,
time was the shirt on your back
unraveling as we walked…

I.

This visit,
when I came to see you,
time was the shirt on your back
unraveling as we walked. You led the way, down
flower fan path, your hand so firm on mine, it pressed each moment
from blood into bone and back- new territory, before desert, my skin yielded
in tiny coils, touched chert in Rock-that-tells-stories,
its crevices filled with moss and shell, wet waving tentacles.

chaco Alcove-600

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