MT

Give up!
Lay down!

Clamber the sounds,
Words, thoughts
Vibrations.

“Let the dark flood
Surround
Drown out
The very last speck
To feel the pain”

It lies and lies so well
The dark, there is no escape!
The dark speaks
Rages!
Eating away
Any glimmer of hope.

Yet fleeting rays
Tiny threads
A reach
A grasp, then a plunge

For dear dear life.
Head hardly above
The murky water of thoughts.

Slitting eyes sense a beam
Light carrying warmth,
Familiarity, union beyond this life.
Co-exist they cannot
Light and dark.

Yielding to the moment
The presence of a ticking time,
I find
I am
Still I am,

As the life carrying force
Brings me through
Dark to light…

Breath of Fresh Air

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This stagnant air
Pungent with pride
Obstinacy and malice!
Leaves no room to breathe.

The weave so thick
With every cause, every claim
Each voice just another noise.
No surprise there are no winners.

Acute pain or oblivion
Victim or perpetrator,
The weight so heavy, why bother to change!
Just surrender to your place in the chain.

Yet each day there’s a new dawn
Chance to shed the snake skin, leave behind yesterday.
Make the clean break
With a breath of fresh air.

Walk, even run away from the clatter,
But don’t turn that blind eye!
Summon the strength from within
With each in and exhale.

Rotating in our spaces
We may not know each other,
We may not even see each other.
But we are linked by times past and present.

Each one of our acts count.
From a hand in community work
To recycling plastic bottles
Or a simple smile and story shared.

Denying our obvious commonalities is ignorance accepted!
As this one world is home to all.
And even more basic
Is how we breathe,
The same air
In the same way.

So together,
Lets make
And take,
A breath of fresh air.

Name that vase: Natronia

Produced and posted by The Alchemist’s Studio, http://rakupottery.ca/2019/01/08/name-that-vase/ with request for naming and writings.

The inspiration for naming your #44 comes from its immediate ability to draw me back to Tanzania where i experienced Lake Natron, a mineral-rich soda lake which sits below the ‘Mountain of God’, Ol Dionyo Lengai, an active volcano that spews a dark silvery carbonatite ‘cold’ lava at 500-550 celsius.
Your vase reminds me of the colors, textures and unlikely combination of life and death at this lake. The story is real but your vase is the mythical symbolization, Natronia, to me!

Natronia

Oh ‘Golden’ one
Think yourself so mighty,
Robbing me of my waters
Running me dry to the bed.

My visiting flamingoes may flee
And the fish eagle saved
As my alkaline petrifying
and volcanic waters vanish.

But perhaps you leave
Behind, my most renown
Beauty of all,
My crystaline core.

Varied hues of ruby
Azure and seagreen,
All mingle and run in and over
My contours, cracks and crevices.

See my form now!
Matched by none,
As I am the one and only
Lake, Lake Natron.

With me you will find
Life and death
On and in me,
Both like nowhere else.

When waters swell
My salts are savored,
My ruby red
Never feared.

Yet with pH high
I cannot help
To immortalize those poor creatures
Who know not what is wise.

I lay witness to mighty God,
Ol Dionya Lengai.
Beauty is my nature
Protect those that come to my shore.

Pictures curtesy of Nick Brandt and Depositphoto.com.

Mona Lisa

Parched as a summer sky
Harmless as fluffy clouds

Flat as crisp clean sheets

Thus your canvas
Lays ready for your mark
Prime colors and more
Compounded, concentrated
Paletted and waiting
Patiently to bring forth my being
Gently you stroke me
With rich creamy oils
Giving depth for my presence
Followed by subtle blends to conceal me
Slowly you find me
With layer on layer
Revealing my form
Shielding my vulnerabilities
How you know me
From inside out
Innocently coy
Expressively inviting
History has spoken
My darling Leonardo
They recognized your brilliance
As they preserve me with reverence
Intrigue we have inspired
Our secrets maintained
Hence you and I have become
Renown and eternally synonymous

 

Artwork courtesy of Nathan Sawaya

She

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Not all will see her
Lifetime of scars
Colors adorn her
Painting pictures hollow

Performing her rituals
Loads carried high
She integrates into the fabric
The thick societal weave

Her face speaks silence
Her heart cries wild
Breath she stifles
Suffocating alive

Ahead lay dry arid lands
Dusted with desolation
Yet seeds of passion fire love
Await the raining days

This spirit of woman
Has never come and gone
Without a mark
Upon at least one soul

Sisters of mothers never known
Bloom in past and future
Some blazing trails
Some leave treasures buried

So Sing and dance
Like nightingale and lark
Or roam and glide
As swans of the lake

Embrace the gifts
Of all that make the ‘her’
Rise to your part
As designed by nature’s Mother

 

 

 

Pain

Tears flow
Empty space,
Tears drained
Empty space.

Heart aches
Lonesomeness,
Heart hardened
Lonesomeness.

Eyes search
What futility!
Eyes beg
What futility!

Can I
Be consoled?
Can anyone
Be consoled?

Memories
Flood with pain.
Pain
Slowly lapped by sweet memories.

Deep within
Strength feels stolen,
Deep within
Strength yet stirs.

Embers rustle
Fire re-ignites,
Embers stoked
Life rekindled

Life, my one companion,
Please hold me
So I feel held.
Perhaps only then,
Pain may subside.