Long Mother earth Poems
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Written on 9 September 2023 For :
Personification of the Elements Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Miranda Hawley
Water Element
With Spirit of t he Divine Lord*
Hovering over my surface,
Before creation byHis Word
I sprawled over the entire space.
Since many a million years back
Earth and air by fate`s gracious hands
Have been destined to be my friends
And our friendship has kept intact.
I quench the thirst of mother earth
And the leafy offspring she breeds
Mankind to nourish and to feed
With the aid of air since our birth.
My bed is lakes, streams and rivers,
Reservoirs and the aquifers;
With milky tears from the heaven
I often feed the vast oceans.
With ivory drops from the sky
I bless earthly gardens and fields,
Salute the lowly verdant hills
And the beauteous mounts up high.
With pleasure my flows sweep the dust
From village lanes and city streets,
Get rid of evils as a must
And claim but respect as a treat.
Every man will come and will go,
But we will ever and ever flow;
Learn to discern our earthly worth
Since the antique days of our birth.
*Genesis 1:1–2 “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.”
Somewhere over the rainbow,
A great civilization flourished,
And we discovered a wonderful kaleidoscope
Of exuberant and vibrant humanity
Enchanted tones tell a story
About a people made from dusk
And red clay
They blend into caravans
Of strong and beautiful faces
The royal kingdom with majesty,
Sits on the throne,
And the mighty lion with pride,
Rules its dominion
Rights, rituals, and passages
Speak of our greatness
Traditions took from the ancients
Are the seeds planted
As we enter the sacred place,
Paradise is never forsaken
Behold, the true Garden of Eden,
As we drink sweet water
From the Nile River
Timbuktu astronomers study the heavens
Mandingo and Zulu Warriors display
War-painted colors like
The broad plumage of a peacock
They stand gripping tall sharp spears
And poisoned arrow tips to launch,
Thus, ready for battle
Juju medicine man mix repeated chants,
As he drifted into a spiritual dance
At daybreak,
We go down to the river flow,
And shadows rise like the moon
Hearts beat in rhythms
Like fine-tuned African drums,
And the rainy season
Stay bound to Mother Earth
At the edge of a crackling fire,
The enchanted medicine man
Delivers magic words and potions
Great powerful heavens
Lift every voice up and sing,
To the sweet harmony of Africa
He loved to garden, her father. He understood the land
He didn’t just have a green thumb…he had green fingers on green hands.
When it came to plants he was a wonder…boy…could that man grow things
When asked why his garden was so beautiful…he’d humbly say…I know things.
I know a gardener needs to respect his land
I know he must be kind
which is why I take only what I need
and leave the rest behind.
I leave some of what I grow for Mother Earth
sometimes I leave half..sometime two-thirds
to feed the insects, the deer, the raccoons
the rabbits and the birds…
To all the creatures and to the land
I leave behind a little food…
It is a way to show them my respect
to spread my gratitude…
I often find it is easy, he said
to thank the sun, the rain…the breeze…
because most of the time in my garden
I’m already on my knees…
Yes…her father had the most beautiful gardens…
he understood the land and how things grew…
but perhaps the biggest reason was how he adored the land
and how the land adored him too.
Old friend Democracy
There you are again
Finally
We thought you might have left us
Forever
Breathe
God Almighty
Breathe from your knee
And rise for every one
Like a black statue of liberty
Over the old ways of Confederacy
Put away
The power that rules
The gangland world.
Inhale the air and take our fear
Exhale a new century of equity
Release a revolution of new riches
Made of healing and advancing
All
A cosmic rainbow of color
Arcing
Over the wheat fields to the steel cities
A baby’s coo from her mother’s cradle
Born from where the sun begins
Wrists slipped from shackles
Voices loosed from nooses
Boots lifted from the backs of necks
Soot cleaned from Mother Earth
Democracy
Rise from your knee again
Breathe
Breathe
A familiar kind of destiny.
To be free. To be free. To be free.
Catch and store my energy,
said Yang-Sun to Earth-Yin.
Digest and absorb nutritional communication,
said Earth
to Virgin Eve
to Fertile Adam.
Volcanize and subduct Earth's embryonic Commons
says Mother Earth
to ReGenerative Ecologists.
Challenge and then creolize resulting multicultures
say EcoPolitical Democratizers
to TrustBuilding Psychologizers.
Deduce separate competing
physical individuations
to induce integrating cooperative
metaphysical relationships
said LeftCerebral Crown
to Right ElderRoot
bipartisan NeuroSystem.
Consume stored wealth deposits
to produce capital-health learnings
through re-investment in further nurture earnings
say long-winded Cooperative Economists
to short-winded Private Wealth
seeks Public Health Professionals.
Patriarch-led revolutions
retrofit Matriarch-bled evolutions
said Yang answers
to co-revolving Yin questions.
Produce positive regenerators
not disinvested degenerators
say Syncretic Prophets
to and for and of and within BiCameral PolyPaths.
Reconnect Yang/Yin appositions
to co-arise Win/Win ego/eco-generate
dialectical Left/Right non-oppositionals
said Laotse
for cooperatively governing resilient climate health,
and not DNA v RNA struggling pathologies.
Catch and digest health
to store and re-invest wealth
said Yang-FatherSun
to EarthMother-Yin
and reverse dispassionate communication
again.
I breathe in crisp air on a white winter's day, and in summer, the scent from freshly cut hay.
I breathe in sweet fragrance from lilacs in June, and the breathtaking view of a red harvest moon.
I breathe in sea droplets as waves kiss the shore, and the perfume from flowers that bloom by my door.
I breathe in awe at our dear mother Earth, and her seasons and cycles of growth and rebirth.
I breathe in knowing we're connected to all, from the trees to the mountains and raindrops that fall.
I breathe in the love shared by all living things, and I exhale it back, and this makes my heart sing.
I breathe in faith, when my last breath is gone, that I transition home, where my spirit lives on.
Is a little bit of me, of him, the earth, and the air
It’s hurting deep inside, but never showing a care
It’s accepting life as it comes, whether just or unfair
It’s only consulting with the man upstairs
The Supreme seer that supplies my needs
And count my hairs
It’s accepting that I’m worth more than a fling on my back
It’s bringing forth life from clay and dirt
Suffering through pain and hurt
Labeled as Mother Earth docile and sweet
Yet, capable of full attack and bringing the heat
Androgyny is... Knowing when to bite my tongue
And making a stand for self
It knows when to love someone else and when to put them back on the shelf
Androgyny is… tasting the sweet fruits of success and accepting the ills of defeat
it’s being a lioness in the sheets
A conqueror in the streets
It’s bringing the wicked to their feet
Then switching it back to sexy and sweet
Androgyny never... Denies the desires of a physical man
But only implies there’s some of him in me and me in him
Sometimes more than he’ll ever understand
It’s realizing that he’s nothing without me and without him
Our existence breaks the chain
It’s accepting that mankind’s survival is the only reason why I got sex on the brain
Androgyny is... not about game playing, bed hopping, and bootie laying
It’s about structure, understanding, family, and praying
It’s about the fusion of man and woman that bring forth child
It’s about realizing that he and I share ribs
What’s his is mine and what’s mine is his
Full understanding is his job
But, when he denies me of that totality
He robs himself as well as God
All the elements of life in Big, little Ol’ me
But the who, what, and why completes the concept of Androgyny
Most women are strong, numerous and live long
This is my point
Only the strong survives
That’s why women truly run this joint
Many pennies Trey did save
Since he wanted a good wave
Just to say
You know ‘hey’
At the surf shop he bought a board
Which he could barely afford
Upon leaving the store
A beautiful sight walked through the door
Making Trey go gaga on the show room floor
During this short span of attention it should be mentioned
Trey did not get a wave
And he took it like a man very brave
Sometime later
Being like a waiter
He cleaned that board that he barely could afford
Before attempting to get the legendary score
Looking up he saw that beautiful sight
Head into the ocean armed for a fight
Trey stood up knowing it was time
To get that wave that was on his mind
Taking everything head first
Ready to quench a challenging thirst
For a second he had a distraction
It was that beautiful sight that captured his attraction
Trey missed the wave memorized by the beautiful thing
As it curled up forming a ring
“That is all right I missed that one
The next should come and it will just be as much fun”
Trey watched and peered
Without any fear
Waiting for Poseidon’s fist to appear
Above the saturated sand
Turning Trey into a recreational participant not a fan
As the clutch formed fingers
Trey stood on his board watching the swell get bigger
Writing the agenda in the image that looked like the hand of God
Who turned this aquatic adventure into a lake like ripple lob
As Mother Earth from the surf safely returned Trey to the beach
Showing him the beautiful sight that was in reach
She took a second to give him a wave
Making Trey feel successful without digging a watery grave
What are your most winterish
critical trauma events
in these most recent
three millennia?
Why
just my traumas?
Why not their corresponsive
therapies
for restoring EarthJustice?
Please go on
and on
questioning my questions
seemingly without end,
like an arctic wind-blown
starless night
in eternally restless January.
As you say,
and, but for this grand analogy,
you would pay dearly
for your unsprung youth,
Back in pre-colonial daze
of sacred tribal glad,
mostly naked clad
reunions
Fall harvests produced fertile gratitude,
more of a positive
win/win attitude.
In those last warm and golden times
of nature nighttime naivete
some Governor,
a Wise Elder, perhaps
No matter how Patriarchal,
would deep dream
to set defenses against
each sacred Other
Yet pantheistically inclusive Mother Earth
could not feel ripe
or right, apart
Summer fullness
and winter dormant absence
fail to positively correlate
Earth's spirited spring minds
and physical womb-falling bodies
with metaphysical,
sacred bipartisan,
deeply thoughtful
yet hibernating
frustrated feelings
failing to confluently
and competently understand
Communicating
and excommunicating
across seasons
and present seas
of sacred vulnerable immigration
integration
creolization,
followed by thoughtfully transparent
slow-grown emigrant sacred status
rooted in wisdom
and freedom to grow copassions,
not mere freedom from
some other kindless
kingdom
Immigrating/Emigrating EarthTribes
exhaling summer's sway
away
migrating winter's WombDream play
back in to sacred circling
and recycling stay.
Thanks for that,
Aunt Eartha.
Sounds like less of a summery answer
and more of a deep wintering question.
Yes, my dear,
and what does winter taste
and look
and feel like?
Restoring Earth's
not-quite-so-everlasting
seemingly endless
cold white privilege,
Thawing into
more spring/fall balance,
green/blue global
hibernating
matriarchal,
yet apparently dormant,
sacred honed ecologists.
Sorry, Aunt Eartha,
drifting off,
wandering in winter wonder
EcoTherapy, once around again,
regenerating global
GoldenPlaying Peace
Within this silent wintered star's
bright prolific night.
In the beginning was the WORD
And the WORD was ALL –
No sights no sounds
No memory to recall.
It filled the void
From no-thing to no-where
Through eons of time
Before time was there.
When out of the blackness
Soup of the stars,
The WORD spoke forth
Saying here I AM and
Here WE ARE.
Spewing forth goodness
From ITS sub-atomic being
Outward bound expanding, far
Beyond our human seeing.
Collating and collecting
Attracting, intercepting
Each morsel of matter IT made;
Creating the suns, swirling
Constellations on the run
Mother Earth, Her gardens, trees and shade.
Then along came man
To understand
We’re not accidental, inconsequential
Intergalactic dust!
We’re made from the WORD
And the WORD’s within
Everything we see, feel, dream inside
Of US.
And the WORD still flows
In the wind that blows
And flowers that grow
And every thought
From our deep inner spaces;
Every work of art,
Every stop and start
Of monuments, buildings, races.
Every song ever sung and bell ever rung,
Every sunset that mystified,
Each symbol, scroll, letter
That en-lightened US better
Every laugh, smile, tear ever cried.
The WORD still lingers
On the tips of our fingers from
Consciousness below and above.
There’s simply no doubt
This universe shouts:
It’s all about BEING
In love.