Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Brigid's Gate

Brigid's Gate - Weldon Spring, Missouri
"A hush is over everything, Silent as women wait for love; The world is waiting for the spring." - Sara Teasdale

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.


  1. BEAUTIFUL! You wrote this, Mom? What can't you do?

  2. Oh, how lovely...! You are brilliant, Jo...!

    Cheers, Jo

    (Now I'm going to read it again). :-)

  3. 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..

  4. Thank you, Andrea.

    To answer your question, I CANNOT dance ballet. Thank God for people like you who do!

    much love, xoxo

  5. I'm so glad you enjoyed it, Jo. Thanks so much for your kind comment!

  6. Thank 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

  7. ah, 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 ;-)

  8. Yes, 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

    Thanks for the kind comment, Amanda.

  9. 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.

    Oh yeah!! Bring it!!!

  10. Thank you, Reya. Bring it...PLEASE!

    You kind of nudged me into sharing my poetry, you know. Thanks--I think. ;-)

  11. 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.
    At 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!!

  12. Goodness, thank you so much, Linda. You are so kind.

    A 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

  13. Bearing Water for Brigid

    Sketches 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.

    Designated fixed space
    Sacrosanct container
    Conveyor through fluid
    Creates place, surface to paint.
    diffusement of emotion,
    beatitude, foment of dueling farce.

    Harsh edges polished,
    pure colors
    blend in the dark.
    Brief infusion
    of giddy illusion
    just enough to guilefully entice.
    Sparkling Neural net
    a secret
    clue revealing
    purpose, meaning,
    wild eternal child,
    ages' flamboyant fool,

    (Voice rains from within)

    A wound is a sacred vessel.
    Pain carves into flesh
    sense memory;
    carries the seed
    of its own demise.
    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
    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

  14. Thank you, Libramoon. Your voices blend together in beautiful harmony. I appreciate your visit here.


Your visit makes my heart smile. Thank you.