Competition Ends 28th January 2019 3:57pm
Go to page:

Bone - Celebration of Mary Oliver

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
53awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1790

Song of the Builders ( After Mary Oliver )

We are humankind, all of us
living various levels of experience –
growing consciousness as bones.  
     
Some are fractured, broken
scarred by choice or accident –
others, solidly intact.  
 
We do not master response
as much as approach – although
it is not the latter that generates war
but the former alone.
 
If I say, Strike my cheek  
do it, that I may judge  
how much I have built
 
upon the foundation of Love
by turning the other too  –  
or, how far I still need to go.      
~      
     
#MaryOliver
Written by Ahavati
Go To Page  

poet
SatInUGal
Kumar
Fire of Insight
United States
9awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 31st Dec 2015
Forum Posts: 370

SWEET ANNIHILATION

There was a moment at the end of youth,
I sat upon a rock and watched the breeze.
As seeds and tufts and other fancies flew,  
I read the writing of the earth preserved  
In granite by a withered dry creekbed  
And felt in me the want to take up ink.  
As termites scarified a heart in wood,  
The richness of wild minutiae took hold  
And laughter bellowed out my slack-jaw mouth.  
  
My life doubled in years but no more known,  
I came again to sacred stone and trees  
A little way from where I had grown up,  
A little way from love that I had lost,  
Sat still and watched the daytime moon pass near.  
I bushwhacked through my ego to a lake  
And with a snake and catfish swam carefree.  
   
That nature must destroy me now and then  
Is a lesson aging nicely, I think.

~

#MaryOliver
Written by SatInUGal (Kumar)
Go To Page  

poet
ImperfectedStone
P M Banks
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
21awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Oct 2010
Forum Posts: 980

The Swan (Oliver: Bone)

 
For my small, incredible Great-Nanny, who loved Swans, who has been gone for seven years too long.

Inspired by Mary Oliver's poem by the same name.    
  
  
Inwardly descending, shifting across the creek  
   she comes  
      with the grace of a purest babe  
   and careful, as mother carrying it  
  
'her ship, filled  
   with white flowers–'
      dancing upon the early-grey  
   of ghosts, in their holy chariots.  
  
I miss my Grandmother's company–  
   sketching waves  
      within perfectly penned lines and  
   of course! Songs a-sung -  
  
hymns of angels never-heard.  
   Secrets shift beneath a surface,
      too fine and infinitely thin  
   to perceive.  
  
Hollowed out on gutted instruments of man they are played,
   left safer untouched - lingering ear to ear, eye to eye,  
       with almost words,  
     almost touches.  
  
Hover back, dear fullest ship,  
     with cargo of earnest pleasures,  
       carry your goodness between this life and next  
   safekeeping histories of the goddess 'neath your wing.

   
#Mary Oliver  
Bone
Written by ImperfectedStone (P M Banks)
Go To Page  

poet
Heaven_sent_Kathy
Twisted Dreamer
United States
5awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 1st Nov 2017
Forum Posts: 30

Omnipotent Journey

Is it age that has me turn aside,
to think twice because the
turmoil in my life is nothing new.

This time around it’s
different news or seems to be,
though bitter onslaught’ chill
and words are all the same.

Before I’m overwhelmed
this time, I know what I must do,
and I won’t be alone.

From those who try to hold me back
with lists they need for me to fill.

From shouts that try to blame their
wants and woes so hard it seems
the earth will free-fall from it’s spin
— I soon walk out the door.

There’s nothing to prepare my rout.
I’ve all I need for this.
With coat and gloves and shoes
and hat, I’m down the stairs.

Already I’ve a smile that isn’t seen
but felt within my lightened heart
as deeper in the woods I go,

where neither voices’ drone
nor storm can reach.
It’s all I want to know.

Each rapid step I take for minutes
passing till I’ve lost the count,
and now don’t even bother.

It must be like the crane that
takes to wing and lets its instinct
be compass and navigator,

leaving me as only motion.
What is my instinct?

I stop to look up through the trees
With tiny rippling stars in sight.
The world’s at rest.

The cold and crisp of winter’s air
surrounds me and the sentinels.

I’ve long forgotten where I laid
the broadsword I never used.

I didn’t need it then
nor do I need it now.

Though deep in darkest night,
the words that I am hearing
come to me more clearly
are of myself.

I feel I’m reacquainting
with a friend.

I’ll stay here for a while to think,
while curious brave the cold,
peering from foliage and drifts.

I hardly know how
or why I’ll be all right.

As winter makes amends,
I promise Him I’m doing this
for only me, I won’t forget again.



#MaryOliver

Written by Heaven_sent_Kathy
Go To Page  

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
53awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1790

The Journey ( Resumed – After Mary Oliver )

It never began, but resumed        
on some lackadaisical day              
when you least expected joy –              
           
or, maybe it was an extraordinary              
moment by Love              
activating clarity of intuition              
subcutaneously dormant within you;            
a minute idea-like mammal              
carving its way blindly              
through hallowed cavities            
of your solar plexus –              
           
their sacrosanct caves reflecting              
a déjà vu of something              
vaguely remembered            
and familiar; an ingrained        
pattern of repetition. . .          
            
Millenniums of theory            
hammered upon an iron anvil             
of imagination and speculation            
into understanding              
exactly, exactly why            
everything, especially you            
exist to overcome              
such undesired contrast              
necessary to water your growth;              
           
not to give you any advantage –              
but, to see and accept              
its universal flow;  allowing          
no inclement onslaught            
to hold you in the dirt.                 
~
Written by Ahavati
Go To Page  

poet
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
126awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 4120

Essence

     
it likes to imagine    
appendages    
to yawn and stretch    
    
quiet testing,    
then owns the sunrise    
to meld with and warm    
from its answer    
     
alone, it yearns    
then comes into      
our sphere,    
idillic form to be free in    
     
( shapeless, eternal    
Is nothing new      
in a universe )    
     
it fancies form with its      
rudiments and      
shortcomings    
providing curves    
     
it wants a connection,    
a dialect    
radiating from      
its own star, felt    
     
imagination of day      
blending into    
destinations of night,     
streaming    
     
wavering, boundless,      
liking to be its own      
‘playful’ in a body      
aglow    
     
if I were it,    
I would melt,    
dissolve my issues    
and resolve    
     
and, like spirit,    
but as my essence,    
evolve and wistful  
float away    
     
Yes, I could.    
I have what it likes,    
it feels everything    
I’d ever need to    
     
     
     
     
#MaryOliver    
   
 
Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Go To Page  

( non-entry )

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
53awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1790

Hi, Jade.  Thank you for assisting us with creating a theme for Mary Oliver.   We appreciate your participation.  #📝

As conveyed via message last week, and for public clarification because the guidelines state only one entry per DUP persona, you may enter an additional poem; however, at that time you must let us know which you would like judged.

We've already spent judging time on your previous entry.  Is this now your entry?  Or just a submission to populate the theme?

Thank you.  

poet
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
126awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 4120

I attempted a pm so as to keep the comp thread clear but the system “ate” it, so I went to bed.  Now I’m logged back on site and was in my notes to let you know but you beat me to it. Not my intention to make you go through the trouble.

Please continue with my initial entry “Sleeping In The Forest”. “Essence” will help add to the count for our Mary’s hashtag.

Thank you, Sage.

Jade

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
53awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1790

Thank you, Jade.  Requesting clarification wasn't any trouble.  

Just for future reference to all entrants; it would help us greatly if you would mark any subsequent entries "non-entry", as Johnny and I do on ours.  

Thank you and carry on.  

poet
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
126awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 4120

So marked as such. Thanks again.

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
53awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1790


Welcome home, Mary Oliver. ⭐ September 10, 1935 - January 17, 2019 ⭐

Thank you for your wisdom and poetic legacy.  You will be dearly missed. 📝❤

https://www.ajc.com/news/pulitzer-prize-winning-poet-mary-oliver-dies/PFH0b6UuskL0C931CoAwhP/amp.html


When Death Comes

like the hungry bear in autumn;

when death comes and takes all the bright coins

from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;

when death comes

like the measle-pox;

when death comes, like an iceberg between

shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door of curiosity,

wondering;

what is it going to be like, that cottage

of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything

as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,

and I look upon time as no more than an idea,

and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common

as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music

in the mouth,

tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something

precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life

I was a bride married to amazement.

I was the bridegroom, taking the world

into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder

if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing

and frightened,

or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited

this world.



Mary Oliver, August 30, 1992

poet
JohnnyBlaze
Dangerous Mind
United States
6awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 945

😕📝❤

poet
ImperfectedStone
P M Banks
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
21awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Oct 2010
Forum Posts: 980

How tragic.  I hope her family are surrounded by love at this time. A beautiful choice to represent her above, thank you. I'm glad you introduced her to us.

poet
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
126awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 4120

I’m grateful, and it seems appropriate, that this, this competition in tribute of Mary, is what we were doing when she passed. And now, it’s filled with even more meaning.

Thank you for letting us speak at this very special time, outside of posting entries...

and thank you, Sage, most deeply & sincerely.

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
53awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1790

When Death Comes ( After Mary Oliver )

When death comes,    
let them say I mastered
the anatomy of words,    
that my life was poetry.      
Let them say I humbled    
that bulwark of ego –    
that bane of pride,    
leaving a quiet legacy.      
Not with the flying colors    
of a Rainbow lorikeet      
capturing its beholder's eye;    
but, a female cardinal –    
her lackluster appearance    
ensuring the nest survives.    
   
Let them, despite my human    
mistakes and many faults,    
say I at least loved poetry –    
that my Spirit became a poem, a bird,    
a cardinal nesting in a cup of words.      
~
Written by Ahavati
Go To Page  

Go to page:
Go to: