POEM: Sew Your Frayed

Fear takes you
Too the toil it
For those privy to life
If you have years, listen
Courage makes you
What sow ever the seasoning
Spring dew
Or winter flakes
You knead not be
Scared for life
Weather an incite job
Or out word bound
So telling
Down with that
Quizzical expression
Facing your maker
Sew your frayed
Stranded
Over looking
Needle-less to say
What will
It take
Enough
To send a chill down your spying
Feeling so
Small still
Voice
Which can knot
Be herd
In a big baaaaad whirled
Wear everything
Is holey
Flocked up
As you
Sheepishly secede
Just getting
Threw it
Wandering
If only
Poor Me
Might be
Better off
Dread
Then mined
Racing
As if
Possessed
Yet without
Apprehension
Shuddering your vary life
Frighting fore breath
Too feel the qualm
As dismay
Or may not
Come about
Or in courage found
A future borne
Weather bold over
Or destiny snatched
You will
In deed
Learn
To let go
And discover
Whatever
Attain meant
Having shown up
As fully present
Equal too
The fair and bizaar
Yielding
A candid life, sow sweet
On the up and up

This poem about fear was by request — yesterday.  I thought that it would take a couple of weeks to get to it, but the muse is fickle and demanding.  Thanks to my neighbor’s unduly loud alarm going off AGAIN at 5 AM, I surrendered to wakefulness and wrote this poem.

Fear and worry seldom pay good dividends.  I do find fear to be a great diagnostic tool to identify issues that I need to be aware of and work on.  Fears seem to populate the surface of life, often masking deeper desires.  One of my favorite quotes is by Amela Earhart, “Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace.”  Our lack of peace is probably directly proportional to our lack of courage.  I cannot tell you what form courage needs to take in your life, but it is the engine of peace.

I often like to boil ideas down to their simplest distillation.  One formula for life that I’ve run across has impressed me with both its brevity and power:  Show up.  Pay attention.  Tell the truth.  Let go of the outcome.  This covers a lot of ground!  May you find wisdom and courage to secure a sweet peace.

Owed to Knot Rhyming

The ability to rhyme
Is not my paradigm
I brandish cacophonies
To unleash new homeys
Word
And soul full plurality
Welcoming that which can knot
Be beat

My poetry is offbeat.  That is not to say that it doesn’t have rhyme or alliteration, or rhyme and reason.  I brandish cacophonies to unleash unexpected cognitive dissonances that may provide momentary shortcuts and brief openings to our hearts.  Since the longest distance in the universe is from our heads to our hearts, there is great utility in such brain bypasses opening up the possibilities of new heart operations or inducing strokes of genius beyond calculation.  Cutting through such a knot is the metaphor used in the ancient Greek myth of King Gordius who set out a challenge to untie an incredible knot, promising great power to whoever could do it.  Many tried and failed, including the best and brightest.  Then, one man took out his sword and sliced the knot open with one stroke of genius.  The conventional wisdom of applying ever more clever brain power and ever more nimble hands missed the simple solution of using a wholly different tool.  Our heart is a holy different tool than our brains and hands.  As an organ of sense perception the heart can discern truths beyond sheer intelligence or brute power.  You knead knot believe this.  Though the heart may just prove a cut above the wrest…