Archive
MONDAY’S POEM: Echoes 3
It’s a dreary Monday here in the Middle Atlantic region, heavy with rain. I found a heavy poem from a series I had written on time (last Monday’s was the first in that series) and how it might operate extra-dimensionally rather than linearly. It is so easy for us in the west to think of time as a unidirectional vector: past as tail, present as shaft, future as arrow point shooting out in a single direction. But what if time is more like a bubble, sometimes expanding, sometimes contracting; what if?
Echoes 3
Echoes need emptiness.
The reverberations of time
Bounce within the hollow bubble
Of now.
Write for the future.
They need your poetry
Out there for some distant when
To exist.
There is no now,
Only the echoes of yesterday
When the world was made new
For all.
Write for the past.
There is no then without these words
Remembering those who remember
For us.
©2014 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.

MONDAY’S POEM: Echoes 1
My newest grandson, Tristan Wallace Bredeson, is here for a visit from California. He is just over three months old now, and beginning to show a delightful personality. He has been just about the most perfect baby I can imagine; he only fusses a little when he is hungry or needs a change! We are having a delightful time with him!
A new generation of Bredesons leads me to the poem today. I wrote it two years ago, but it seems to apply even more as the next generation, the next echo sounds forth. And with my son and grandson with me now, I do catch myself using expressions and words from my past, my parents. Are we learning lessons and moving on to new ones or are we just echoing within the chamber of time? Maybe the answer to this question is “yes”!
Echoes 1
Dad’s voice moved from
My ear to my throat
At breakfast. I heard
Him clearly: A non-sensical
Expression of his.
Mom’s voice jumped out of
My mouth with no thought
Or control behind it. It
Was clear, critical; some
Rule was broken.
Where is my voice? Has it
Been silenced by the tides
Of Time; lost in the returning
Ripples from the
Wall of Beyond?
Is the Wall of Time moving?
Is the sphere expanding?
The already learned lessons
Echo from the cold surface
Teaching, preaching.
Will we ever learn?
©2014 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.

MONDAY’S POEM: BALANCE
Today’s poem is a reprise. But it helps me remember this key to life and how to practice. And it is an echo of an experience Rosemary and I shared last evening; and that experience, too, was an echo of an earlier experience two years ago! Echoes within echoes, the cycle of time!
We helped sponsor, organize and share Ashana here in Annapolis for a concert Saturday night and an Activation Sunday evening. The Activation was powerful, a Kundalini Yoga experience of profound depth accompanied by Ashana’s amazing crystal bowls and angelic voice. For four hours we worked on opening and balancing our lower three chakras. This in turn helps open the upper three, all centered around the heart chakra. It was both deeply grounding helping us get in touch with the Earth, our Mother, and soaringly uplifting as we sailed and sang with the Angels!
And I reread this poem and remembered again that all is in balance; we all just need to remember!
Balance
Breathe in freshness,
The power of life in the Universe.
Breathe out love,
The acceptance of All in the Universe.
Consume deliciousness,
Every dish alive with energy.
Purge the waste without grief;
It is a meal for another.
Bring into the Universe all of You;
Your unique gifts are essential.
Let go of everything that is not yours;
There are others ready to serve.
Live your Life Purpose;
Your karmic journey is open.
Die as a Natural Human,
Fully embracing your sense of place.
©2013 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.

MONDAY’S POEM: Cosmic Aura
In case you hadn’t noticed, dear reader, I love the Fall. For many reasons it is my favorite season. One thing I particularly enjoy is watching the changing qualities of the light. Every day seems different, but the underlying quality is gold. My last couple of poems posted here are recent ones as I relish these shortening days filled with wonderful light, color, sounds, smells, all those sumptuous “flavors” of late harvest (so full and sweet) and the coming cold!
Cosmic Aura
Bright day follows cool morning rain.
That tale lingers in the glisten on the deck,
The scattering gray at the eastward edge.
Now is a fine day dawning.
There is gold lighting the canopy.
The trees reflect the Cosmic Aura.
That radiant light begins within,
Extends outward to fill
The entire known Universe –
And beyond (we don’t know much!).
It is a deep light, endless,
Dancing ecstatically at the edge,
Holding boundless love
In the gossamer fingers of God,
Arms of Goddess holding Cosmos to her breast.
©2014 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.




