Tag Archives: poetry

I Venture Past

Poetry from Song of the Beloved, copyright 2011, Krista Moore.

 

I Venture Past

 

The adventure begins
New life and a
round knob of insecurity

I love to picture puzzles
and then burst those bubbles
venturing above what even bubbles can’t know
or see

I venture past shame and insecurity
past the new story and the old
past everything I knew before and
hold

I venture past stony brooks and seas
old fortresses
barricades and trees
past you
past me

I venture to new solid ground
new escapes
new passageways
I venture around bullies
to open doors once promised me

past windows and doors
past hallways and rooms
past ceilings too
past me
past you

past everything forgotten
and true

uncertain still
but new

 

 

 

Miracle 11: “Mystical, Magical Morning”

Miracle 11 came suddenly, inspired by my friend, Linda LaClaire’s beautiful share of her feast from Miracle 7 “A Feast Within”. This is for you, dear friend, Miracle 11 of  “30 Days of Miracles 2012″.

 

Step lightly on the world. Don’t tread too heavily

on the morning feast.

Smell the earth,

See the swagger stems sway from a bushel

lightly trespassing

against marigolds and

picture perfect windows panes.

 

Soften your eyes….  with sweet surprise,

rumbling thunder clouds roll

in, crowding the spaces

once occupied by butterflies.  Run for

cover, little things!

Your vanquished hearts will soon be recompensed

with a burst of sunshine

and  sun droplets.  

Sing!

 

 Parade in marigold

philosophy, boundless

energy, storms of

delight, circumspect

entry into a world

of fossils and dreams.

Heartache passed, like dewy

wood gone to sleep.

a hollow log for an

otter’s feast. Sleep

sweet creature,

Sleep!

 

Mmmm… I am awakened

and renewed silent

though my pen is

gently stirring, stewed.

Books to read, syrupy

sweet delicious buttercups

to eat. Hello to the

coffee grinds and Saturday morning

breeze. Enough, enough to eat.

Breathe!

 

Ooooh... sweet companion,

this world, our dream.

In You, I see.

Love and suffer nothing, not when

your eyes alight with me.

In You, I

See!

 

Thank you sweet swell of Life,

for coffee cups and butter-

cups and your words which

haunt and hold me, renewing

my mind. Smell the

earth open on hallowed

ground, opening   W   i   d   e

 

Mystical, magical morning…

 

Say yes with me,

Powerfully — profoundly

Boldly, Yes!

Yes, Sweet Life, 

YES!

 

 

 P.S. What did you notice this morning? What was stirring within your awakened, nourishing Soul Space?  Celebrate your YES below.

Miracle 5: “Cradled Truth”

Miracle 5 of Krista’s “30 Days of Miracles 2012″

Cradled truth in crackling

brilliance like an

egg broken through

the tiny bird with

weak legs -

soul-stirred – loved -

cared for -

flapless -

Fly

feed you, keep

you safe and dry -

encourage you -

believe in your

greatness -

give you my

Faith

speed you on your

Way

dispel your weakness

as

Keeper of the Flame.

.

What longs for you? What do you long for? What calls your Name?  I am here to bear light for you as Keeper of the Flame.

The Miracle Is You

Mystical Waysayer: Show Me Your Garden of Chrysanthemums

 

What if I didn’t know who I was?
If I didn’t find my gemstone, my path, my lust?
What magic would pale at the sight of my magic dust?
What firmament of sand, of rigid pallor, of rust?

 

What if I never galloped on that horse?
Missed that dance?
Forgot to put the penny in the wishing pond?

 

“My Work is to Know You”

“My work is loving the world.” – Mary Oliver

This is something I spontaneously wrote and spoke aloud during a call with a gathering of women. The spoken word has such vibration, clarity, emotion, vibrancy. “See” if you can “hear” the soundless as you read, and feel your own Self breathe…

 
My work is to know you
Sacred cow
Deep middlemarch sounds
The clock is ticking
and yet
there is no sound
 
Ah, awake!
The sugar plum faeries have come
to take me away
To You, to You, to You
The Light has come
 
 
My light is Light
It has no other
It can not be prayed into
There is no book to cover
Its light, its sound
Its energy
It goes out and comes
Simultaneously
 
It gives and uses, it hums
It is given
It never goes away
And yet it is hidden
 
Ah! the darkness has come
But oh Light, oh Light, oh Light!
How It comes…
 

Love Is Seamless

Here is a poem I wrote awhile back that echoes yesterday’s post,  “What is Love?”.  I thought it fitting to re-post it here.It is part of my collection,  “Song of the Beloved: A Mystical Journey” now available on Amazon.

Love is Seamless
I used to think love was boundless
The word boundless came up a lot
And often implied the boundaries I lived with every day
Thoughts of morality and play
 
I had a revelation the other day
I was thinking of quilting and of patterns and of shapes
I was thinking of all the lovely people I know
And the ones I lost along the way
 
I felt sad for a moment that I missed somehow the point
That in my effort to repair
The tear in the fabric, to sew all the pieces together
And hunt down lost souls
I had forgotten a simple pattern needs no interference
And goes on forever without boundaries anywhere
 
We are not a pattern or a shape 
We are not a collection of hapless pieces to reassemble
This love I feel is a seamless mix
A vibration that goes on forever
 
I stood there and said:
“We are all here right now…”
Put down your needles and your thread
There are no seams in love.  
 
We Are All Here Right Now
We Are All Here Right Now

Amen

x
© Krista Moore 2011  “Song of the Beloved: A Mystical Journey”, collection of poetry/prose.

Carlos & Claudia in Del Mar…

Carlos & Claudia

Oh my sweet friends, Carlos & Claudia. We had such a good time with you in Del Mar. I had to reserve a spot on my blog just for you :)

Here we are at the “Poseidon” in Del Mar, our oceanfront restaurant where we first met “in the Flesh” you said, after a year of knowing you Claudia, through our Evolutionary work and sisterhood.  I was so thrilled to see you and look into your eyes at last!  And to have sweet Carlos smiling on us the whole time. And our wonderful Steve joking and absorbing our “kookiness” (that’s a good thing), while taking pictures of us.

And our beautiful walk on the beach… the rock you chose for me, and the one you found.

Here we are… “Claudia & Carlos in Del Mar…”

[slideshow]

And here is the poem you gave me, Claudia, tucked away in your beautiful book, “Becomes Her Vision”, and the CDs of the music you play with Carlos as part of  “The Celtic Ensemble”.  Carlos reminded me of the Ensemble page of the book we just put out  (as he held up five fingers outspread with beaming smile), that your band members are an integral part,  not just the instruments, the people who play.  Thank you for serenading us in the moonlight with your drum. It was a magical night!

“Changing Arrangements”      by Claudia Poquoc

There are no new problems that fill our days,
as lizard’s tail twists at my door freed of claws.
Only ancient human struggles arranged in new ways.
 
Old Woman of the World stirs her brew in a cave.
She loves life, the mess it makes, no matter the laws.
There are no new problems that fill in our days.
 
“Spinning nature and culture, makes sacred”, She says,
as She threads an evergreen cloak leaving flaws.
Only ancient human struggles arranged in new ways.
 
Old Woman feeds our myth-mind where eternity plays.
She weaves a new tapestry when lifes edges are raw.
There are no new problems that fill in our days.
 
We are ever on the fringe in search of the next ray,
when all looks forsaken and death lies in the draw.
Only ancient human struggles arranged in new ways.
 
The Story, there all along, that our soul portrays
Our merit to creation awakens us to awe.
There are no new problems that fill in our days
only ancient human struggles arranged in new ways.
 
Bless you, my Friends.
 

P.S. I’m sure we will see each other again. In San Diego next time!

Preamble to Day 30…

 
Where I am right now:
Undoctored.
Philosophy?
Never.
 
I’m right here, I am
Looking at you
Looking at me
No apology
That’s who I am
You see.
Let’s hit the road
 
I’m  not lying
I don’t need anything more than this,
This is perfect, right like this
That look of complaint is gone
Replaced by unclouded honesty
At home in itself.
Past landscapes,
Ever changed
The perfume of time
Richly deserving a rest
Lingers on my face and chest
Open to the sky…
 
 
Mmm… the fragrance of my body and mind
Who I am this time.

Day 19: Gratitude, My Tiny Listless Friend

beloved

beloved*

This is what came to me while silencing the creeping need to fret away the time…  a moment of grace in a busy day.

GRATITUDE

I am exposed
Half  hairs showing
Fingernails too long
Guff and scarred
But still growing
I am not a mystic warrior
With supporters beckoning from behind
I need to assert myself
Delve in
Not mistake countenance
for sustenance
 Not for a moment forsake
The purpose I am here.
 I need to keep going
Offering up
Hands bent back and afraid
- And  yet -
The frightened stares of my intellect
Are no match
For my tiny, listless Friend.

Why is this called gratitude? It occurred to me too. A little strange, but somehow true. All that chaotic intellect shining and getting in the way; all the competing voices yelling this way – no, that-a-way! All the uncertainties with puffed chest standing in the way…

And yet, this voice comes. This voice that tells you no, not that way.  You are here for a reason. All this will go away. Keep writing. Keep going, though your neck be too long, or your will not that strong. Keep fighting past the insecurities that time throws in the way. It will all go away.

And in the meantime, when you are silent, and no one is around, this voice will find you.  Your one, true, tiny and listless Friend. She will comfort you. She will ring true. She will be your one true confider, who will tell you: it won’t be long now. Just keep going.

The world awaits you.

Amen.

*This work is part of a poetry collection Krista has published on Amazon called “Song of the Beloved”.  The First edition is now available on Kindle, but it is continually being updated.

Day 12: The Climb

1

.

“Jump off the high dive, woman.”
She looks at him.
No.
Yes.
No.
“OK, have it your way.”
He picks her up and throws her in.
.
2
.
“Jump off the high dive, damnit.”
“NO. I can’t.”
“Yes you can.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Yes you will if I have anything to do with it.”
She pauses.
He smiles.
She runs.
He chases her.
She jumps in.
.
3
.
 
 “Go on, you can do it.”
“I know” she says and smiles.
But she doesn’t.
He pauses.
She looks at him.
“Why should I?” she asks.
“What are you waiting for?” he answers.
He waits.
She goes and climbs the first step.
 .
4
.
 
“It’s cold up here.”
“So.”
“I’m hungry. I want to come down now.”
“No.”
“Why?” she asks again.
“Because you don’t want to.”
“OK.”
She goes one step further.
.
5
.
 
“It’s high up here.”
“I know.”
“What should I do now?”
“I can’t hear you…”
She contemplates.
Nobody is there.
She is all alone.
What do I do now?
Keep going.
She doesn’t go.
She tries to come back down,
But something keeps drawing her nearer.
 .
6
.
 
She comes back down and rests.
She does other things to distract herself.
He doesn’t care.
He waits for her.
Then, when she is ready, she asks him again.
“What should I do now? Go again? Do you want me to?”
“Do you?”
“I do. Something is calling me nearer.”
“Then go if you want to. Do it.”
 .
7
.
 
She goes again,
This time she is one step nearer.
Suddenly there is a crowd.
Only a few looking up at her.
She is doing something newer.
They are cheering for her.
This is fun again.
She climbs to the top and takes a peek at all there is to see.
She freaks and comes back down.
They pat her on the back, but she has a frown.
“What’s the matter?” they ask.
“I didn’t do it yet. I pretended to. I didn’t climb the whole way. I didn’t jump off.”
“So. You tried. That is enough.”
“NO. I want to go again.”
“Good. Then go.”
 .
8
.
 
This time there is no one around.
She creeps out into the night.
She climbs the ladder fully and stands at the top.
She sings her song to the mountaintops and the trees.
She is free.
No one is listening
Or so she thinks.
In the morning there are people everywhere,
Crowding her for a time,
Congratulating her on her mountainous climb.
She is dumfounded.

“How did you know?”

“We could hear you.”

.

.

P.S. So, what number are you on?…

Krista Moore’s “The Climb”, written by Krista Moore June 1, 2011, posted on “Krista’s ‘Little Book of Miracles’”.