Long Palm Poems
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In my dream, a wise old man reads my palm and then warns me of
apocalypse, sufficient turbulence to wake me up dizzy with sweat and fear.
God, where is your saving grace? I then notice the clock on my table: 3:45.
Is life worth living, and saving? Countless ideas circle my head, like so many wolves smelling blood. I fall sleep again, only to dream I'm a headless scarecrow in the field waving the vultures away, but only for a moment, and each time they grow bolder, hungrier for my flesh rotting under the sun, until finally I close my eyes and bid farewell to the world, feeling the pinch of vultures' bites, until nothing but bones remain and I'm handed a pen again to write my own obituary, with nice self-fulfilling words like 'courage under fire' and loving husband and father, a true patriot. But, wait the ink is out and I now dip it in my own blood, to venture a word of caution: approach death with blinking light, it might issue you a hefty ticket.
In the early morning light…
You stand before me, and slowly disrobe, as you have so many times
before.
Then …for a moment… as you have so many times before…you stare at
me, not seaming to see me at all, as you wipe the sweat from my face
with the palm of your hand.
Then…for the first time, as if looking for some lost truth you hope to find
buried in the depth of me, behind the silver mask I wear, you stare at me
in a way you never have before…Long and hard, until…tears begin to roll
down your cheek, when…for the first time… you see yourself, as you truly
are, through my complete indifference.
Written: August 23, 2014
Nowhere To Hide (music & lyrics by Joan May Donnelly Ellis)
Chorus:
Where does the writer go when she's lost her inspiration?
Where does the dreamer go when the dream has died?
Where does the ground meet the sky and soar where eagles fly?
Where does the heartache go when there's nowhere to hide?
Verse 1:
I know where a village weeps beneath a watery shroud.
and where silence abides and words are not allowed
I know where royalty's birthed and nourished by an anointed King.
and where a river flows into an ocean of green.
Verse 2:
I know where the Light is redeemed when the Shadow closes in.
where a Team assembles when there's no goal left to win.
And I know where Palm Trees sway to the tune of a Chinook's caress.
and where Roses feud and where children are truly blessed
If I should disappear in the middle of the ocean
And caught between the waves and the sea
Would you come and look for me
If I should journey to the moon
and spend a year on the island of doom
Would you come live with me
Conscience speaks to moral men
And the universe uphold the power of women
You have embarked on a mission to the moon
And a miracle might be coming soon
Something that you have never seen before
Might come knocking on your feeble door
It might be there from more than three thousand
Year’s buried in layers and layers of moon sand
And it will lead you directly to the origin of man
If I strip naked and lay in the dark,
Would you come and cover me
There is an oracle positioned on the hill
And if you keep still you will hear the wind
When it blows a soft voice will energe from below
And it will tell you to go where you don’t want to go
If the wind lift me up and leave me stranded in the tree
Would you came and rescue me
I have been waiting for
more than a decade for you to come
from when the skies touch the ocean
and the sun burns the surface of the sea
And man in his pride glorify thee
From the Bosom of the sea
The heart was there and
Hope flusters in the porous air
And the garden palm
Sways pacefully with the wind
would you come and show
me where it begins
If my heart was melting before thee
Would you come and comfort me
If I fell in a week’s long trance
and lie unconscious on the lawn
and all the life was gone out of the tree
Would you come and visit me
The numbers are running after thee
And the parallel lines are standing
Straight before thee
The train is waiting at the crossing
and driver is making his final bid
What gives you the idea
that we are one big happy family
If I should leave this broken line
Would you make a new bloodline with me
Come I am waiting for thee
Desert Botanical Garden - Phoenix, AZ
Come and find me in this garden;
I know not where the hours go.
Palm fronds brush against my cheek -
Lone toadstool, blush of mallow.
They say this is the Garden of Eden -
Rocks of lichen, red yucca.
But I think this is probably heaven -
Birds-of-paradise and vinca.
You will find here a green shelter;
Shade fills the inner sanctuary.
Canaries whistle o'er yonder -
Dew drops on a banana leaf.
Let's be as kids like we once were;
Take my hand, let's go find its end.
Make a wish on a four-leaf clover -
White passion vine, black-eyed Susan.
Heaven can wait if we persevere.
Let my bosom be your headrest.
Morning glories open to the day;
Sure feels like we're heaven-blessed.
The Blind Illusionist
Fate wears white gloves and pulls a whole dream from its top hat,
Twirls it in its palm like a tarot card that's burning,
Watches me applaud in my sleep, then whispers to me "choose",
But whatever I choose turns to smoke and to ash that's lost.
In the dream, I wander through houses with doors leading only to other houses,
Every room holds a beauty I will never get to touch,
The mirrors swallow my outstretched hands, leave me only empty cuffs,
And an echo laughing somewhere, behind some strange curtain.
I'm shown gardens suspended in the air of a crystal moment,
A sky with two moons drawing close as in a forbidden kiss,
Then a soundless bell wakes me, a signal
That it was all just props in a theater of dreams.
It's a blind magician dealing cards without ever seeing their faces,
Shows me the king of cups, then turns him into drought and bone,
Smiles with a stitched-shut mouth, like a doll with no life in it,
And still I play, though I know the stakes are always rigged low.
To give and take back is a trick as old as the world's illusion,
A handkerchief hiding a dove that never existed,
I applaud again in my sleep, though I feel the edges of the earth tearing,
Beneath the chair I'm sitting on, in this suspended hall.
Maybe I was never more than a card drawn from a stranger's deck,
A joker who believes himself king in a story written by someone else,
I'm afraid now of every beautiful dream knocking gently, calmly, at the window of my mind,
Knowing the blind illusionist will clap his hands again and take back what he gave me, or not.
Breathe in,
Jesus my mind is in the valley
I know I’m not lost but it's hard to see
Exhale,
Help me to lean on you
When negative circumstances
Become more comfortable
I’m too comfortable with depression, isolation, and doubt
Having late night conversations about
An end that didn’t end at the cross
Now it's hard to breathe in my daily routine
Arms extended as far as they can reach, help me
I’ve uprooted myself from the vine
To avoid the journey of progress
As if God didn’t have my best interest
Why do I look for other interests outside
Of daily bread and living water
Now I’m adding interests to my debts when they were already paid for
If I only paid more attention to the Vine, my branch would see the Tree
God help me to not protect that parts you want to prune
Despite my flesh I want to be more rooted to you
Plan ahead they say so you can make time to smell the flower things
I’ve never been much of a gardener
However, today I’m planting mustard seeds
So, my confidence can age as Grand as the Canyon
I can finally picture heaven in the palm of my hands with this Canon
Camera, bombing any part of hell in my yesterday that tries to burn my film
Hope used to be a dream then I made my dreams come true
Hope used to slip through my fingers but now I wear it as a cape
Flying over depression, fear, and regret
Stop subtracting from you, thinking to myself
Hope is priceless, you don’t have to play tag with money
That’s why the tag looks out of place in a garden
The highest value holders are free
Salvation doesn’t cost you anything, so;
Plant faith and wake up in a field of dreams
Plant a rose and fall in love
Plant patience and endurance will run past any future
Harmony outlasts pains earthquake
Honor overcomes poisoned endings
And it gives me hope that tomorrow isn’t so bad after all
I don’t always feel super, but Jesus said I can be a hero
p.s. don’t forget your cape…
I've got the lecture notes ready
I've got the examples
Just blow what I'm telling you to blow
I am responsible for the resurgence of the sales of saxophones
I unlock the doors of my car
By raising my right palm
You saw the crescent
I saw sod all
You need a guitar player
Bass and the whole caboodle
But don't stop there
Get yourself some
Man clarinets
And ear trumpets
In fact
Sack the band and
Just have a sax on stage
And horn away
Nostril reeds and
Ostentatious bellowing
I'll be your mouthpiece
I'll pretend to be from L.A.
Cringetown bottom burp
The sand swirls the seconds in a gentle ash whirlwind
time blows its song upon the columns of a deaf temple
the king of memories scatters his crown on dry sand
the vassal of regret carries silences in sacks of heavy light
each moment pulses in the palm like a glass fish
I hear the future tremble under the eyelid of a washed sky
grain by grain, the hourglass digs a path through me
no one stops the flow, no one prays enough
in the heart of the glass, a torrent murmurs silent litanies
behold the burning gift: a torch that comforts no one
I weave my steps from traces not yet born
the desert in the soul sprouts buds of pastel golden illusion
love waves a white flag between two gentle eclipses
words collapse, leaving fine seeds of blazing dust
time has no shoulders for anyone to ever cry on
yet I look at it like an angel with filigree wings
it calls me to walk on the thin bridge of empty nights
I stumble over the past, clutch it in my pocket like a coin
the future, a mute monarch, signs decrees with shadow ink
and the present, a serene blind man, touches my cold cheeks
under the eyelids, a gate opens to a circular desert
there, the grains sing psalms I forget to the end
through the flow of consciousness, a barefoot child of hope dances
and in the end, everything sleeps under a bell of light
Find the missing courage to stand,
together a crowd well endowed;
A globe in the palm of your hand,
now what we need is to get loud;
Neighbors have become divided,
no matter if either side tries;
They call each other misguided;
clean shoes never fix the wrong size;
Hastily two hands become one
within the confines of my mind;
Holding peace like a loaded gun,
just think if everyone were kind;
Imagine a coast of rose quartz
where we understand each other;
Domestics the same as imports,
we now press forward forever;
Revolution ‘Desperate’ fanned,
the bourgeoisie have become proud;
A globe in the palm of your hand,
now what we need is to get loud.