There have been many good writes this month. My All Poetry site is overflowing with kudos. (For those unfamiliar with that platform, there are contests and awards.) So I’m sharing a few here.
so much invested in these sounds and symbols so much granted to meanings and myths we bequeath primacy to numeracy being beings of fingers and toes tongues that wag with titles and rules all our own devising all encased in flesh to be lost with death and we call this sacred this word we cast a net for all essence a cage for all mystery orbiting the ego-wrought chained to small reason we of limited perception we name deity in our likeness within this skin dwell all these worlds we made a nested doll creation built on foundations that fold inward i name and so what is named is become but for its lack the stars have no names nor even that designation no mere idea of man encompasses the ancient no accounting for atoms this word this is the work of transience the apprehension of infancy and we call it knowledge and we call it god being is so far beyond words and yet this little is all we have for understanding
like it matters
you say, each day dawns like a golden lily to be filled with bee and butterfly and all the casual concerns of eat, mate, birth, die of which sum is life compounded but do we ask too much of significance that it must grace each moment from rushing morning routine to coffee rings left on the table from traffic light reflections to birthday greetings left unsent conscious time snatched from the interstices i think, swept up in coarse rhythm we lose the intricacies of harmony fail to feel the wonder in the fact of a breath no reason at all to be here and yet we are given this gift of such shocking opulent benevolence i say, do not live each day as though it were the last live it like it matters
he set out for what, where he can no longer recall journeying these many tides with barnacled beings growing fresh hide hoarding past in dithering piles old needs now in pigeon-holes new guides on sturdy shoulders he fares o’er silent seas wandering the empty oceans of eternity traversing days, moons, stars gathering in the draff of lives well-lived his beard becomes a burgeoning burg with teeming want marking time an age for every fingernail he thinks i am this island its god and its rocky foundation to put aside my burden is to expunge this house and even the pneuma riding the winds crave time collected memory brimming bellies and so he carries on to no destination for he thinks it is the journey that builds life
oh, for the artistry of spring the least opuscule rendered ephemeral perfection minutely majestic as common finch and maple blossoms gems arrayed against barren branch a chance encounter of kaleidoscopic color… and she moves on to new work each moment a marvel fierce beauty revealed in the power and frailty of a flower the brave vulnerability of opening to probing sunbeams the stunning commonplace of small birds at rest the cleverest creations of humankind are never the equal of her daily dalliances the path to humility runs through spring
©Elizabeth Anker 2023