How Mind Moves

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

cropped-cropped-dsc0045111 Photo by Tom Gable Nature Photographer

Poets & Writers

If I Spoke

If I spoke from the heart and you could hear
You would ride the sound
Back to the beginning and see who you really are.

If I spoke from the heart, my tears would be a river
Running into the sea, an Ocean of sweetest water.

If I spoke from the heart, my joyful laughter
Would fill the universe
And ring the galaxies like a wind chime

If I spoke from the heart, you would hear my voice call
From time past, present and to come
All our wounded children– It would heal them, every last one

And the world, if ever it were, would be whole again.

Two in The StreamPhoto by Rayn Roberts

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Climbing Mountains

Out of breath but not energy, I tire on the upward path
Stop to see where I am. The summit’s not far, but I need water.

It is the taste of spring, taste of April I take, the icy-sweet clean
Can-anything-be-so-pure-snowmelt rushing right out of the earth.

This is how I want to be, clean and clear, no phone TV house or car
No worn-out concept, dead-end dogma, news of the dead or war–

Merton had his seven story mountain, but was a monk. I aspire
Only to know myself & poetry. That too is a mountain worth a climb.

To long for, wander out and look for the miracle in the mundane
The unexpected blessing in contradictions, the calm fox napping

A hare hopping by unharmed, the globe spinning from light to dark
In a field of floating stars, sparks rising from a camp-fire

The echo of a waterfall
That is what I want, not to get away
But get closer to what I need most and love, a place
Where the many faces of the mountain are one, where I sit
Allow the toil and grief of life to flow out of my mind, out of my body

Drain into the earth like water, a leave me for good.

 

 

“Climbing Mountains” first appeared in Illuminations: Expressions of the Personal Spiritual Experience by Mark L. Tompkins (Editor), Jennifer McMahon (Editor)

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Cover photo for the poem by Rayn Roberts: View of Mts. near Hoh Rain Forest Washington

Of One and Many Worlds

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Where winter ends and spring begins
white plum willow green
yellow broom
break the monotony
of brown and grey,
magnolias open like hands
asking nothing, offering all …

Beak wing and claw gather
twig cloth limb and stick
whatever warms
the magpie nestling.
In the waking hills
feral cats hunt and fatten.

A white haze of mountain sky
falls to earth
the foggy breath of an imperial dragon –
There is meaning
in every motion or change
the momentary violets pushing into light
are questions
the old trap of time letting go –

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Is the coming of joy and more pain
worth the space I take?
Is the choice free…
I don’t know, but hold as seasons
spin ’round
this eternal spring
waking a world to all that is possible