Submissions by Ahavati (Tams)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Don't make me take my pearls off.
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
4th Jul 2015 2:07pm
4th Jul 2015 2:07pm
Native American Melody
(From my Cherokee Blood)
patriotic flag
two-hundred-thirty-ninth year—
Trail of Tears
~
patriotic flag
two-hundred-thirty-ninth year—
Trail of Tears
~
#spiritual
#memories
#historical
1044 reads
8 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
1st Jul 2015 9:57pm
1st Jul 2015 9:57pm
The Thunder Moon
(Also known as Blessing, Buck, Oak)
“who knows if the moon's
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky--filled with pretty people?"
~ cummings, e.e.
The skeleton of a bird is not more fragile than the bones
of human emotion. A single measurement of water ingests
our beings into a globe of tissue to absorb the origin of truth
and light. Think about that for one moment. Think -- about
the swarm of sperm toward an egg like a Winter colony ...
“who knows if the moon's
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky--filled with pretty people?"
~ cummings, e.e.
The skeleton of a bird is not more fragile than the bones
of human emotion. A single measurement of water ingests
our beings into a globe of tissue to absorb the origin of truth
and light. Think about that for one moment. Think -- about
the swarm of sperm toward an egg like a Winter colony ...
1293 reads
11 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
30th Jun 2015 5:00pm
30th Jun 2015 5:00pm
The Fly
A fly has adopted me. I don't know for how long because I don't know
how long flies live. Clinging, it perches itself on my shoulder while
I work and annoys me when I'm outside trying to write. I think it wants
to go back inside where it's safe from the beaks and tongues of insects.
Because I don't have the heart to kill it I comply. So here we are; at
my desk, me and the fly. It disappears at times so I assume it takes a break.
Sometimes I'll put a drop of my smoothie out for it to drink; or, I'll...
how long flies live. Clinging, it perches itself on my shoulder while
I work and annoys me when I'm outside trying to write. I think it wants
to go back inside where it's safe from the beaks and tongues of insects.
Because I don't have the heart to kill it I comply. So here we are; at
my desk, me and the fly. It disappears at times so I assume it takes a break.
Sometimes I'll put a drop of my smoothie out for it to drink; or, I'll...
1087 reads
8 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
30th Jun 2015 2:14am
30th Jun 2015 2:14am
The Rain Gauge
1276 reads
21 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
29th Jun 2015 1:47am
29th Jun 2015 1:47am
Clump of Copper Patina
A Penny for your thoughts.
~ Sir Thomas More
When I was eight
I saved 100 pennies
to show my mother
When she merely said,
"So? It's only a dollar."
I buried them
I was always burying things
including my tongue
I thought burying them
wasn't a betrayal
like throwing them in trash—
those tiny copper faces
collected for so long;
stacked by my fingers
gathering new daily
I believed if they were buried ...
~ Sir Thomas More
When I was eight
I saved 100 pennies
to show my mother
When she merely said,
"So? It's only a dollar."
I buried them
I was always burying things
including my tongue
I thought burying them
wasn't a betrayal
like throwing them in trash—
those tiny copper faces
collected for so long;
stacked by my fingers
gathering new daily
I believed if they were buried ...
1050 reads
17 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
27th Jun 2015 7:25pm
27th Jun 2015 7:25pm
The Awakening
5:00 am
Sometimes, before the world wakes the spirit
walks quietly, lingering in dormant hallways
between nocturnal stirring, intently listening
to soft streams of blood through corpuscled
tunnels for the Source to oxygenate venous
red from the womb's blue pulmonary warmth.
Sometimes, before birds wake the spirit rises
through a lily pond of leaves where a tree was,
reflecting its ghost edges of limbs and nests.
All created possibilities from the was...
Sometimes, before the world wakes the spirit
walks quietly, lingering in dormant hallways
between nocturnal stirring, intently listening
to soft streams of blood through corpuscled
tunnels for the Source to oxygenate venous
red from the womb's blue pulmonary warmth.
Sometimes, before birds wake the spirit rises
through a lily pond of leaves where a tree was,
reflecting its ghost edges of limbs and nests.
All created possibilities from the was...
1090 reads
11 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
25th Jun 2015 5:52pm
25th Jun 2015 5:52pm
The Bird
Glass playground;
World within a world:
Confused bird.
Bubbled dome;
Plastic indoor world:
Confused child.
~
World within a world:
Confused bird.
Bubbled dome;
Plastic indoor world:
Confused child.
~
1100 reads
5 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Jun 2015 11:51pm
24th Jun 2015 11:51pm
The Following
1. Truth
Today I did not drive to the end of the road and turn right.
Instead, I turned left and into the densely wooded area
whose bridge crosses over the river where fishermen
become bears dipping their clawed hooks in the falls.
What does it mean when you outgrow all you've been taught;
seeing a slither of light rise like the thumbnail of God? Truth
offers itself to you as a gentleman opening the door to under-
standing; it also slams it in your face when least expected....
Today I did not drive to the end of the road and turn right.
Instead, I turned left and into the densely wooded area
whose bridge crosses over the river where fishermen
become bears dipping their clawed hooks in the falls.
What does it mean when you outgrow all you've been taught;
seeing a slither of light rise like the thumbnail of God? Truth
offers itself to you as a gentleman opening the door to under-
standing; it also slams it in your face when least expected....
1035 reads
13 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
21st Jun 2015 6:22pm
21st Jun 2015 6:22pm
Sonnet I: The Gift
How shall I tell thee? As Edna St. Vincent Millay? Should we
not rather count the moments than ways? The diving seconds
that swoop as chimney sweeps into old ashes; each hatchling,
as a Lotus rising into a morning slowly dying? For Love, you see,
is not all; nor can be traded for a poetic word. Or, cummings, e.e.?
It was Spring, after all, when we, mudlucious with possibilities,
passed baking into the Solstice. Shall Summer burn us black; ...
not rather count the moments than ways? The diving seconds
that swoop as chimney sweeps into old ashes; each hatchling,
as a Lotus rising into a morning slowly dying? For Love, you see,
is not all; nor can be traded for a poetic word. Or, cummings, e.e.?
It was Spring, after all, when we, mudlucious with possibilities,
passed baking into the Solstice. Shall Summer burn us black; ...
1257 reads
17 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
21st Jun 2015 4:06am
21st Jun 2015 4:06am
The Pond
A metronome rock
keeping time with the music:
dropping through water.
Dust cloud sediment
spreading across the bottom:
A Lotus rises.
~
keeping time with the music:
dropping through water.
Dust cloud sediment
spreading across the bottom:
A Lotus rises.
~
1063 reads
9 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
20th Jun 2015 3:51am
20th Jun 2015 3:51am
The Garden
The heat is immense; I'm watering the garden's San Andreas Fault
line separating the corn and sunflowers; filling the deep crevice
of its mouth with water faster than it can swallow, watching it
collapse into itself; dryness asphyxiating slowly on the moisture.
The whole world is leaning toward this hose, grasping with limp
leafy fingers; pumping life through gorging roots until their throats
overflow and pool at the base of dripping stalks. I pinch dying Marigolds
to make room for new blooms; their pungent death stains my...
line separating the corn and sunflowers; filling the deep crevice
of its mouth with water faster than it can swallow, watching it
collapse into itself; dryness asphyxiating slowly on the moisture.
The whole world is leaning toward this hose, grasping with limp
leafy fingers; pumping life through gorging roots until their throats
overflow and pool at the base of dripping stalks. I pinch dying Marigolds
to make room for new blooms; their pungent death stains my...
1039 reads
13 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
18th Jun 2015 10:53pm
18th Jun 2015 10:53pm
The Dragon Fly
I've watched them my entire life, vibrating
creatures of stature and majestic flight;
Transforming lives between elements of
water and air. One came to me, watched
while I was photographing a state park,
gliding behind me into the deep wood.
Iridescent eyes and heavy-bodied
hum of wings that migrated vast oceans
hovering beside me; ancient symbol
of courage and strength with an ancestral
blood bond incarnating in its presence,
reflecting our lives...
creatures of stature and majestic flight;
Transforming lives between elements of
water and air. One came to me, watched
while I was photographing a state park,
gliding behind me into the deep wood.
Iridescent eyes and heavy-bodied
hum of wings that migrated vast oceans
hovering beside me; ancient symbol
of courage and strength with an ancestral
blood bond incarnating in its presence,
reflecting our lives...
1152 reads
9 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Ahavati (Tams)
