Archive
MONDAY’S POEM: The Unfamiliar
I sense we are in a transition period. I’m feeling a bit betwixt and between. We are just moving into June; spring seems behind us, yet it’s not yet summer. Some graduations are behind us, yet, many are still in school. We are well into the New Moon, yet it is just now showing on the Western horizon just after Sunset.
It is within this transitory energy that I came across a poem I wrote under similar circumstances several months ago. If you are feeling a little unsettled, perhaps approaching some as yet unknown transition, you too may resonate with this.
The Unfamiliar
Different, strange,
Dark, peculiar,
Low energy,
Unfamiliar.
Rest in this new
Environment.
Take it easy,
Let it ferment.
Adjustments come
To all who wait.
There is no rush,
Just hesitate.
Relax, just be;
There’s time to know
And when it’s right,
There’s time to go.
©2014 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
MONDAY’S POEM: Move into Freedom
It is Memorial Day here in the US, a day we set aside to remember those who died in war; as we say, those who fought for our freedom and fell in battle. It is a time for flag waving, speeches, gestures of thanks for the veterans.
It is a day to consider our freedoms and be grateful. I also remember those who refused to fight and their freedom to do so; William Stafford comes to mind. And I remember our living veterans who remain under-appreciated and under-treated for their sacrifices.
And it is a day to consider all of our ancestors and all the sacrifices they have made that we might live free. With that let us:
Move into Freedom
Freedom – Joy, Joy – Freedom
Can these qualities
Be found, be felt
Separately?
Movement – Stillness, Stillness – Movement
Are these states
Opposite, echoes,
Independent?
Letting go, holding on
Can these acts
Serve, supply
Together?
Let go,
Move into stillness,
Find freedom,
Be joy!
©2014 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
A FRIDAY POEM FROM “RHYTHMS AND CYCLES” – Grandmother Moon
We are well into the last quarter of the Moon cycle today. The New Moon in Gemini is coming up on Wednesday. I always feel the Old Moon as she loses her race with the Sun and “falls” into Him. It’s a good time to let go of anything that is no longer serving. Give it to Grandmother and she’ll take it with her to her temporary grave.
I wrote this last year with the Moon Cycle and especially the “dying Moon” in mind.
Grandmother Moon
She is dying into the arms
Of the Father.
She is old and worn,
So close to his breast.
What will you give her
To offer the Father?
Her emptiness can hold all
You have to release.
Are your standards so fixed
To forgive and forget?
Let fly the high-horse
To Grandmother Moon.
Release your regrets
To her skinny white arms.
She’ll fold them and hold all
To burn with her heart.
In three days she’ll appear
Reborn and renewed.
Look to the west for the joy
Of her face and rejoice.
You too are new!
©2014 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
MONDAY’S POEM: Forgiveness
This is an area I continue to work on in my life. It’s likely an endless task. Of the five elements from Traditional Chinese Medicine, wood is my dominant one. An aspect of this is I am quick to anger. The balance for this is forgiveness. And it starts with me!
So, for all you wood-type people out there:
Forgiveness
It can only begin inside;
Self is forgiven.
And what is inside?
The mirror of All.
It extends to the other;
She is forgiven.
Is She inside?
Om, Namaste.
It flows to the beloved;
Yes, They are forgiven.
Can the truly loved do wrong?
The very heart of All.
It moves to the murderer;
Even He is forgiven!
Is He inside?
Oh, yes, my son.
Even He is you.
©2014 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
A FRIDAY POEM FROM “RHYTHMS AND CYCLES” – Wounded Man
This is an interesting poem I came across for today. I wrote it in the Spring, four years ago. It seems to fit the Rhythms & Cycles collection as we all go through the highs and lows of life.
We are all wounded in some (or many) ways. So I write. And perhaps I’m feeling a little wounded now because I haven’t been writing enough lately. How are you wounded? And how do you treat that wound? We have to take care of ourselves; then each other!
Wounded Man
Wounded healer,
Heal thy self.
Recover that lost piece
Which bleeds in some far place.
Wounded warrior,
Come home now.
Soothe thy fevered brow
And sing songs of peace.
Wounded High King,
Rule in peace.
Strengthen thy green land
And love your people free.
Wounded poet,
Write thy verse.
Create the song of peace
To heal the Warrior-King.
©2014 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
MONDAY’S POEM: Rosemary’s Music
Yesterday was Mothers’ Day here in the US and we celebrated Rosemary with a nice grilled steak dinner with daughter, son-in-law and one of the grandkids. Sons called from west and south. It was a good day!
This poem from a few years ago recalls a memory triggered by Rosemary’s playing her “baby grand” in the Colorado house, the music sailing high through the two story foyer. I may not have ever shared this with her, so for Mothers’ Day here it is:
Rosemary’s Music
She plays beautifully
Pulling notes from some
Magical place to ring in
Ears sensing brilliance.
She speaks wonderfully
Offering words from
Another dimension to sink in
Mind thinking in awe.
She gives generously
Bringing gifts from Source,
That deep well of abundance,
Heart feeling gratitude.
©2014 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
A FRIDAY POEM FROM “RHYTHMS AND CYCLES” – Lessons
I wrote this a few years ago when I was in the middle of the ebb and flow of life lessons. I guess we are always there; part of the rhythms and cycles we live within. Happy weekend!
Lessons
Endless chain,
Link by link,
Event by event;
A measured life,
No start, no end.
Continuous flow,
Then to now,
Now to when;
A lessoned life,
No start, no end.
Unbroken stream,
Spring to river,
River to sea;
Consciousness rising,
No start, no end.
Rising sea,
Spring fed, river fed,
Rain drenched, windswept;
Lessons to learn,
No start, no end.
©2014 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
MONDAY’S POEM: Poet’s Choice
Today’s poem is from the archives. I opened to a random page in my journal and reached back to August 2011. I am feeling a bit conflicted today so this poem is for me and all of you out there having a conflicted Monday!
Poet’s Choice
What does a conflicted poet write?
What bubbles up from below?
What trickles down from above?
Love. A poet writes of love
For all the world to read
And understand this Queen.
Low. A poet sinks so low
To find the deepest part
And understand this King.
Light. A poet merges with light
To sing of the highest peaks
And understand this God.
A poet writes of highs and lows.
He writes of light and sings
From mountain tops.
And most of all he writes of Love!
©2014 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
A FRIDAY POEM FROM “RHYTHMS AND CYCLES” – Shells
I planted a few seeds in some pots on our deck last week. Now I watch for the sprouts to break through. Spring time is such a wondrous season of birth; it’s the perfect time to consider all the cycles of life!
Shells
The heart does not expand
From an empty shell.
The seed is there inside
Waiting for the moment.
It takes a special love
To break through that shell.
The germ hovers in bonds
Trembling in dark potential.
The light waits calmly
Just outside the shell.
The sprout presses its power
Seeking a weakness and release.
Suddenly love explodes
Through that hard shell.
The tender life wiggles free
Reaching toward the light.
The heart embraces all life
To escape that empty shell.
The community grows
Filling the world with love.
©2014 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
MONDAY’S POEM: The Dance of Time
Another Monday. The moon wanes, the month wanes into the third third and time marches on! Shortly we’ll be a third through 2014. With time on my mind here is a Monday poem I wrote in 2011 (about three years ago):
The Dance of Time
The passage of time is a spiral dance.
It weaves
It floats
It rises
It falls.
It is a multi-dimensional wave.
And like a wave it is stationary.
It moves
It calms
It comes
It goes.
It is a mystery beyond space.
The passage of time is music for the dance.
It sings
It plays
It beats
It rhymes.
It is the rhythm of my heart,
The song of my soul,
The symphony of my spirit.
©2014 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
Men and The Goddess 