Brigid's Gate - Weldon Spring, Missouri |
Brigid’s Gate
Go out into
The chiffon sky
Where waits the frosty air.
To see the ice
On yonder oak,
Entangled in her hair.
Walk down the path,
Now clad in white,
And greet the misty morn.
For Winter’s day
Has come and gone,
And Spring will soon be born.
Now look among
The crystal trees,
So regal and so fair.
And find the gate
That guards her realm,
And I will meet you there.
She beckons us,
To come her way
With pansy and primrose.
Delighting us
With song and verse
And poetry of prose.
Oh, leave the weary night behind,
Come toward the dawn,
She sings,
She smiles gently,
Embraces us,
And we have found the Spring.
Joellen Floyd
Today may you find a glimpse of Spring.
BEAUTIFUL! You wrote this, Mom? What can't you do?
ReplyDeleteOh, how lovely...! You are brilliant, Jo...!
ReplyDeleteCheers, Jo
(Now I'm going to read it again). :-)
Just a perfect poem and post for this day...I agree with Andrea, what can't you do??? Much love and respect my dear friend. Another good choice of music..
ReplyDeleteThank you, Andrea.
ReplyDeleteTo answer your question, I CANNOT dance ballet. Thank God for people like you who do!
much love, xoxo
I'm so glad you enjoyed it, Jo. Thanks so much for your kind comment!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Vicki. We're almost there, friend...I KNOW we can get through this winter, even though it will probably hang on until April. Now, where ARE those pansies? xoxo
ReplyDeleteah, so beautiful jo!! brigid's gate --- yes - today is imbolc, is it not?? the trembling of spring just beneath the whiteout of winter we are currently experiencing ;-)
ReplyDeleteYes, Amanda...imbolc! And I wondered why I woke with a stomach ache this morning, until I read that the word 'imbolc' translates to 'belly'. I think I was in labor with the poem...I feel much better now! :-D
ReplyDeleteThanks for the kind comment, Amanda.
Whoa! Or should I saw WOW! It's an invocation to spring. Reading the poem, then listening to the song, I felt I was being whisked off into the land of Fairy.
ReplyDeleteOh yeah!! Bring it!!!
Thank you, Reya. Bring it...PLEASE!
ReplyDeleteYou kind of nudged me into sharing my poetry, you know. Thanks--I think. ;-)
xoxo
What a beautiful poem, Jo. I love the way it dances in three line phrases. It made me feel eager to hasten spring along. Just the sort of merriment and spring anticipation I needed today. The picture of the gate is so ethereal as is the music of the harpist. Lovely.
ReplyDeleteAt noon I shoveled a foot of heavy snow and it has been snowing heavily all afternoon, so there is more shoveling tonight. Go away winter storm!!! At least we didn't get any of the ice. Hurry up spring!!
Goodness, thank you so much, Linda. You are so kind.
ReplyDeleteA foot of heavy snow? PLEASE be careful, okay? That is VERY arduous work! We are still stuck in the ice, and my intrepid firstborn was the only one to make it to work today.
YES. HURRY, SPRING! xoxo
Bearing Water for Brigid
ReplyDeleteSketches for a water vessel --
bottle and message elide on waves.
Voice of Brigid calls.
All who hear: Imagine.
Exposed to wind, to grit, to rain
and hail,
rock faces erode.
Vessel
Designated fixed space
Sacrosanct container
Conveyor through fluid
separates
Fluidity
Creates place, surface to paint.
Amusement;
diffusement of emotion,
beatitude, foment of dueling farce.
Harsh edges polished,
pure colors
blend in the dark.
Brief infusion
of giddy illusion
glows
just enough to guilefully entice.
Sparkling Neural net
smiles,
a secret
clue revealing
purpose, meaning,
engages
wild eternal child,
ages' flamboyant fool,
Glorious
Muse
(Voice rains from within)
A wound is a sacred vessel.
Pain carves into flesh
sense memory;
carries the seed
of its own demise.
Sentience
engulfed in life
learns anew to be whole.
Wounded with the potential for wisdom
when eyes are are pried
from seeping, sucking, suffering
aching to censure what future we admire.
Redefine the schizm.
This wound is our project.
To heal, discover the vision;
realign the seam to fit
self-framed landscape.
Let loose that genie of desire.
Ride rushing blood streams.
Build a roaring pyre of grief,
insane belief in wrathfilled deities.
Revile that old refrain: "life is pain" or a game
to be lost.
No Faustian bargain.
Just a
rambling adventure
daring
to explore
essence of ecstasy.
Don't wait for the rest to see
and demur.
Stretch your sail.
Take sight of your guiding star.
The only failure is self-denial
in favor of the vile lie
that pain is destiny
instead of faithful friend
lending energy
for change.
Slice vivid memories.
Exult in the tastes, the textures.
Enliven your way.
In the end
the vessel breaks.
There the Goddess stirs
2011 Aquarius
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/seerseeker/
http://emergingvisions.blogspot.com
Thank you, Libramoon. Your voices blend together in beautiful harmony. I appreciate your visit here.
ReplyDelete