Best Passage Poems
We Are One
Dear Ancient Sister
I hear your distant calls finding me on a gentle breeze
You have lived in my dreams for many seasons
My voice
Your voice
My soul
Your soul
And our Coming of Age
I have always known you...
I have heard your
Quiet whispers echoing in
The night coming close to me
I call to you ...
Let me be a part of your breath
I have always known your wounds and sorrow
I see the light and magic in your eyes...
The pain you carry so eloquently
I see your reflection in the clouds above
Carrying your soul wound on your sleeve
I see the deep crevasses and lines
In your grandmother’s hands
I hear the secrets beneath the earth of
Your grandfather’s footsteps
I see your reflection in the twilight
Of the evening... against pink watermelon hills
Your voice beckoning me onward closer to you
I see you in the moon and stars
Your buckskin dress adorned with
Ceremonial beads
Abalone shell against your forehead
The dirt beneath your moccasins
Grateful for the kiss of your dancing feet
I hear the echo in the distance of songs
The Elders sang...
During their passage here
You are born into a woman
Before my eyes and heart
Before your tribe
Before nature
A wise new feline
A mystical power with endless allure
A force that lifts and unites us all
As one
Your rays blessing us and leaving
A welcome imprint on our hearts
My Ancient sister
I drink in your wisdom and grace
I fly on your wings
You have shown me your world
Watching you dance
Becoming you for moments in time
Your silhouette etched by
The wild flames behind you
A glow radiating into
The night sky
The stories of your Ancestors
Filling the air with
Words and lessons and song
Notes sung into clenched fists
With bloodstained hands
The children and animals
Sensing all that was
And all that will ever be...
The call of a distant bird
The thumping of your cane on
The hungry earth
Keeping time with
The movements of your body
You will look back on this
Day as you walk with the
Same cane down the path of
Old Age...
Your wisdom
Cupping your heart gently
Ancient Sister of mine
I am in gratitude for
Your strength and courage
The kiss of your words and
The teardrops of your loss
Susan Lawrence
Copyright 2020
Original Artwork
Susan Lawrence
Remember the day
Apron strings loosed,untied
as maternal voices faltered and cried
Remember the day
When a soprano voice lost its elan
and a boy became a man
Remember the day
Peer pressure would not hide
and diffidence was replaced with pride
Remember the day
Desire,with warm whispers heard
questions,answered with just three words
Remember the day
Filled with joy and love
a union blessed from above
Remember the day
Holding a first-born,so wee
as two self-absorbed,became three
Remember the day
Trust was born-a-new
a changed life came into view
Remember the day
Genesis as a work of art
with gifts to share and impart
Remember the day
Rite Of Passage
*
My Walk to Remember
My father takes my hand,
tucks it in the crook of his arm
and smiles at me as we walk through
the old pasture that has been transformed
into an outdoor chapel
Tears roll down his face
with each paced step we take,
towards the alter, the pastor
And the hopeful face of my
of my husband to be
His grip tightens on my hand
as the congregation stands
and all eyes turn towards our progression
as the clouds give way to the
warming April sun.
I recall the pungent, smoky scent of
the tanned buckskins we wore,
see the blue cone of the tepee with
lodge poles reaching towards the pale blue sky
the red and white bunting my sister
so carefully wrapped around the fence posts
My Beloved’s eyes shining with
promise, hope and love
and the Indian flute music that
drifted on the tangy spring air
marking my rite of passage from
Daughter to Wife.
Passage to Beyond
Our loved ones leave this world
softly fading
a secret smile playing
upon their lips
What do they see beyond the mist?
Is someone there? Waiting?
Others volunteer to disappear from this place
thinking it is the only solution
to their heart shattering
from events old and new
Seeking relief at any cost
no thought beyond this selfish act.
Others, beloved forever,
leave this plane in a rush of fire,
fear, fury and bravado
so careless of the ones left behind
to mourn, to miss, to try to
fit the pieces together again.
…..and if we watch...listen...very carefully
we will see....hear...our dead creeping back
to collect their footsteps.
Trisha Sugarek
Moths and Machettes
The face of Spring on this misty morn
invites the seer of sights.
The mountain peaks in fog are adorned
as you view ascending heights.
Quiet rules this early daylight hour
while some yet nestle in bed.
Here, amidst misty morning showers,
of beauty, so much can be said.
Nature parades this passage of Spring
with colors and brightest green.
Flying about, the small songbirds sing;
such wonder in these glorious scenes.
Butterfly wing door vestibule builds anticipation
Shuffled, carpet muffled greetings, familiar embraces
Piloted by Holy Spirit, seated hushed congregation
Ritual of ornate cathedral thanks hidden crypt rib cage
Enduring centuries, pliable sandstone testiment
God's following holds time proof tenacity
Flared proud corners, pyramid reminiscent
Honour continues amidst shifting society
Solid oak panelled door on wrought iron hinges
Greets round barrel key bearer with ominous groan
Down four slouching stone steps from street edge
Solo visit in sacred space never partaken alone
Curved bookcases cater for leather bound learning
Volumes of theology define best ways
Nook with desk lets liturgist imbibe God's word
Tall back chair, acorn emblems engraved
Beneath majestic vessel, clay damp chamber
Rhubarb velvet curtain, tassel tied to sides
Strongest entity relies on the Lord as Saviour
With worship's dedication, faith survives
In expansion, searcher emerges at alter, cleansed
Hive of etched arches tribute precision architectural
Vibrant robes, sashes draped, silken beacons
Of preparation, celebration of overcoming, renewal
Pulpit's ingrained memory both daunting and welcoming
Deep set lead light showers sombre pews in intimacy
Haloed Christ holds baby, shares parables with children
Crease covered hymn books strum procedural symphony
Written July 2020 (no previous submission)
Submitted for : Brian Strand
Completely New Volume 23
on 18th August 2020
Vernal springtime is departing,
Leaving plush carpets of petals,
All along scented garden paths,
And also in luxuriant meadows.
The sun has grown deep orange,
With distinct traces of old gold.
Stars embedded in purple flash,
As moon magic charms the hills.
Rosy halcyon days are leaving,
And the mellow hours are near.
I just got free passage out of the graveyard,
I got my Get Out Of Death jail release card
It’s all GOOD ... all very, very GOOD
Grace coverage bought on crimson cross bloody wood
Resurrection is my free ticket out of here,
if you’re not Christ connected, you’re in dire straits I fear
"We know what we are, but know not what we may be."
William Shakespeare, 1564-1616
I write poems of nature, love, loss, grief,
my sweet mentor Shakespeare brought back to life;
writing of past things that creep like a thief,
of morals, visions, virtue and life's strife.
William, my pen is haunted with old woes,
and knocking on my door, knocking- is death;
help me to find the words to fight these foes,
I want joy- not moaning of each last breath.
Yes, will pen sweet jewels of nature's bliss,
my pen is your pen- you are my muse guide;
words of faith, life and of love we will kiss;
Oh William, promise to bestow you pride.
In the end- I will pen farewell, farewell;
and words like birds set free will ever dwell.
__________________
January 11, 2023
Poetry/Sonnet/Life's Wavering Passge
Copyright Protected,ID 01/11/2023
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Shakespeare in 2023
sponsor, Anoucheka Gangabissoon, Judged 01/16/2023
A Haiku Poem
Crossing in between,
Roaring sounds beam light throughout,
Passes just in time.
Persuading October from her quiet lair
Shedding the pleasures of life’s fictional realms
Mouthwatering plunder, gathering to share
Swirling through the silence, round oaks, pines and elms
Secrets and shadows reflecting nature’s rush
Flames of ginger, shushing dark who overwhelms
Sweet dreams are splattered with hope by God’s paintbrush
Storm wrecking peace calms souls who reflect this time
Much like a coryphée, plied by a wood thrush
Closing those moments by the sea, maritime
Breathing in crisp air, whispering a prayer
Carrot colored leaves twirl in a soothing rhyme
Reflections so daring arrive on sun’s glare
Lifting the past’s tears with grace beyond compare
Road work had been finished
for the winter on an asphalt strip
north of town near a nature preserve.
I said good-bye to the hotel owner
and he invited me back
although the town was a lifetime away
from my home. We shook hands.
The town wore its history well
with a façade of an old west town
complete with a jail and post office
on its main street, as if it wanted
to live that life again.
Picture postcards were sold in a drug store
to be packed away and taken home.
Gates of fences aligning themselves
on either side of a highway
spoke of the last cattle drive.
I realized this was the west
where cowboys lived and died.
Reflections stirred of how we gave of our lives
for our dreams and for the ones we loved.
Hasn’t it always been this way?
Sandhills loomed to my side as I drove
on a two-lane east to another town
where I could see another historic site
then get onto the interstate and drive
to the next assignment.
The sky above the open land was an ocean
as I drove east toward the sun.
That kiss parted lips
like Moses parted the Red Sea
and all the Love in words and deeds
walked out of the darkness
of a cavernous domain
the inner Everest rising
between the time of drowning
the mind climbed
the tongue rolled out
like a red velvet carpet
delivering unsafe passage
into the Heart’s silky sanctuary
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Mount Everest
Moses, Red Sea
Sanctuary
i journey chasing
imaginary wisps, in
reality bound.
We seem to have it all
As we want for nothing
In the darkness of the womb
We are evicted into the light
Sadness, then happiness
Unaware of the looming doom
We seem to have it all-
Sadness, then happiness
Cloudy-vorfreude abloom
We hustle, we jump huddles
We cry, we hate, while loving
Then the reaper to the tomb