deepundergroundpoetry.com
Of Holding On And Letting Go
1: Only from the heart can you touch the sky.
You think that water is the color blue
That ocean currents imitate the wind.
And where it ends beyond the height of clouds
That’s where the sky of me will turn to black,
Where neither air nor astronauts may live;
Yes, I’m the sky and all the rest is air.
If not for me there’d be no atrium
To hold within the weather and the rain,
From where the cumulus and stratus play.
The teaming life that feeds on coral beds,
The orca pods who prey on lesser whales
As dolphins with their echos guide the young.
The snow on summits where no birds can reach,
The forest at its base, bears hibernate.
The sockeye who return from whence their birth,
And beneficial run-offs where they spawn.
The tribe who grazes stock & gathers fruit,
And nomads follow zebra to the stream.
The fishermen who cast their nets afar,
The children who run naked in the surf.
This is the bounty given with both hands.
Remember, everything relies on this,
So none will turn to ash and be forgot.
🌜☀️🌛
2: I want to sing like the
birds sing, not worrying about
who hears or what they think.
a light blue cloud
singing in your hand
folded once
then once more;
the wings of
your origami crane
I breathe in deep
the flesh-like tissue
uplifting me
through
fluttering lids
to a corner of sky
all to myself,
lighter than birds
kiting through
the draft and rush,
reaching
for the sun
I have no voice
with which to sing.
No feathers I,
still I bank and soar
trying to
remember you.
🌜☀️🌛
3: Be like a tree and let the dead leaves drop.
This Rowan tree in bloom I rest beneath,
Whose berries filled her boughs in ruby red.
That ever spread its legend ‘cross the heath,
To giving pause the rising of the dead.
Protector from the devil’s evil sway,
This Rowan tree in bloom I rest beneath.
Whose leaves are from a living bird of prey,
And ne’er a welcome sight to witch’s meet.
I lean against the sav’ry of its wreath,
In dappled shade that quivers in its arms.
This Rowan tree in bloom I rest beneath,
Sprigs of it in my hair keep me from harm.
Which also includes charms against my will;
I keep a bower on my mantle piece.
What turns to honeyed wine, not bitter swill?
This Rowan tree in bloom I rest beneath.
🌜☀️🌛
4: The whole universe is contained
within a single human being – you.
Near a sleek interstate of New Now
Of Today’s city glass towers’ gleam,
From the day’s perfect rise of Know How,
And Tomorrow of manicured dreams:
Laid the sprawl of an old shanty town
Where lush trees & green grass never grew;
Shown no mercy; a dry trodden frown,
Like the tough shanty dwellers it drew.
But for all of a dirty-faced soul
Passing time in the cardboard & shake,
Moved an odd, mystic child of the shoal
Picking mussels & shells for the take.
And the name, Periwinkle, or Jill,
Who's dark days of childhood were all spent
On the fringe of the city’s landfill,
Gather’d pebbles & weeds as she went.
No one paid her a mind to collect,
Not a button or bow worth a cent.
And there never were colorful blooms;
Not a daisy, nor rose or a glad.
With bare feet in the mud many moons,
Not a violet or mum to be had.
But no one who knew Jill believed her.
She saw rain puddles each as a pearl
In re-flected sky drifting over,
And the specialness that was the girl,
Who could trust in the dump where she play’d,
That to walk in the sky’s dappled air
Brought to life buddings from seedlings raised
When she wore the bright blue in her hair.
And her mother would smile & then teased
How her “Jilly” did just as she pleased.
🌜☀️🌛
5: You are not a drop in the ocean. You are
the entire ocean, in a drop.
It’s still not too late
as she rises by a hearth
to a knock at the door
this early evening,
carefully wrapping
herself in a long robe
from the night air,
and whoever is there,
so they will think her
a respectable whore.
Yet she sees no one
from a soft light
at the threshold
in the thin clean air
of the Chilean Andes,
with a scent of
cordwood for a fire.
Steps onto the porch,
cane chairs are stacked,
brought to her by men
who buy them from
her as payment.
She is handsome,
still a young woman
but not too much.
She remembers it
like this and no other.
She sits to wait for the
first moon’s light, and
forgets the cigarette
that she lit indoors as
it dwindles & goes out.
And a new memory
tries to surface, for
she has no memory
of being born, or the
one who bore her.
She feels she’s died,
but loses no sleep.
She’ll never weep
for burnt wood
long turned to ash
& knows not why,
but she likes to try
imagining the scent
of the night
she was
born.
🌜☀️🌛
Quotes by & ispired by Rumi:
* Real name: Jalāl ad-Dīn
Muhammad Rūmī
* Nickname: Molānā
* He was a 13th-century Persian poet, faqih,
Islamic scholar, theologian, and Sufi mystic.
Published 19th Mar 2020
| Edited 22nd Mar 2020
Author's Note
For Jennifer’s “Human Nature”.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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19th Mar 2020 10:14pm
19th Mar 2020 10:27pm
20th Mar 2020 4:20am
20th Mar 2020 3:04pm
21st Mar 2020 4:10am
This is beautiful, I love the picture and the Rumi quotes, the ending is sublime in meaning, that ending is beginning, such a pleasant read..
21st Mar 2020 7:20pm
I’m very thankful, sister PR, and touched by your response to my effort. I have always felt Rumi’s words of insight anytime I engage his works.
I hope all is well with you during these times.🙏🏻
I hope all is well with you during these times.🙏🏻
22nd Mar 2020 2:24am
Dear JP,
Luscious and descriptive as well as educational and inspirational.
It is an ovation to the cycles of life and memories, to me anyway. A glorious work that will be read and reread with deeper meaning each time. Awesome write. H🌷
Luscious and descriptive as well as educational and inspirational.
It is an ovation to the cycles of life and memories, to me anyway. A glorious work that will be read and reread with deeper meaning each time. Awesome write. H🌷
22nd Mar 2020 1:05pm
Gosh Honoria, I don’t know where to begin. This humble pen-pusher is terribly honored. I’m there with you in spirit when you read/reread anything of mine.🙏🏻
Jade🐾
Jade🐾
I bought a book with Rumi's poetry a few days ago and I am enjoying his work. I enjoyed your words and the chosen structure.
