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1980's

To Create

To convey in words
The beauty of this moment -
To remember
I write for salvation !

The pain and sorrow I sometimes feel
Sealed in a letter to the sky
Where the spirit is freed
By the air sublime.

 

Sometimes

Sometimes I dare hope
Some Creation
Within me, yearns for air.

I push
To bring into the World
This child I cannot yet bear.

Looking to myself
I see tomorrow born
Into this world as a Child so fair.

As if a dream we all try to make it real ---
To give this small hour some Might Heir.

 

I still want to sit in the sun awhile

And walk in the rain by your side

But sometimes,
Yesterday clings to me---
I cannot escape it's logic.

Always my song is half finished.

 

Life Goes Past

Quickly, it seems,
Just as fast
As unremembered dreams,
Like temporary lodgings
Not properly cleaned.

There exists a glow
Beyond ordinary sight ;
By some hard-won Grace this beam
Can pierce the darkness with the light.

 

Something

Something has struck a beneficent cord in my heart
I bless the world he says and I,
I experience the bliss

of what is

my life

there are a thousand kinds of kisses
millions of songs
countless poems, written since the beginning
even dinosaur poems perhaps.

my breath in your presence is the deepest of kisses

Life, I love you too much

 

Song of the Mute Horseman

Always then I listened for
A voice from the darkness.
Now I hear
The wordless music of the spheres :
The sounds of time passing
As the years slip by ---
The song of the flute,
A tree falling in the forest
Or the unspoken words of the saxophone.
It is so varied...
It s all the same.
It is the tune of the mute horseman
Riding first toward us
But now away
At an ever increasing speed,
Disappearing into a misty horizon
Beneath the purple skies of a polluted sunset.

Forest

In this forest of light
Wandering with creatures in the night
The hungry beast in me
Stalks the singing bird I hold
Perched on the edge of eternity.

Wild Creature

The forest is a very good place
To learn how
To make a poem -
Free and simple,
Revealing with shining hand,
Out the womb of the soul
Our creativity delivered
As a wild creature's foal.

Small Things

I cannot tell you how
All my dreams are coming now
Small things are mine
And the wind
Before me in the trees seems to bow.

1982, PREMIER POETS - seventh biennial anthology

Early Afternoon

In my joy I am impervious to pain ;
I stand with wonder in the rain,
I am ready to walk a thousand miles,
To touch and feel and grow
Free of all restraint, while,
As the pristine showers end,
The clarity of this discovery ---
The beauty of this day ---
Astounds me !

Frogs and Crows

In our youth
We spoke of things that did not matter
We spoke of frogs and crows
And beasts that walk on tippy-toes.

When we remember the same words
We can be warm
In the cold reaches
Of the universe and on its windy beaches

1982, Dreams of the Heroic Muse, New Worlds Unlimited, Saddle Brook, New Jersey.

Runner

In the philosophy of joy
I am a runner
Nearing that first full circle,
Passing the post,
Each moment closer
To the final wire.

1981, Images of the Mystic Truth, New Worlds Unlimited, Saddle Brook, New Jersey.

 

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Copyright, 2006, Mary Barnet.
All right reserved. Reprinted by permission