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Denel Kessler May 2016
I am not spring
frost thaws eternally
from shallow-rooted fronds
tenuous and unbound
susceptible to wind's constant round
battering the living flat to ground
sodden, smell of decay all around
time is fleeing
these shoulder seasons
with all their restless reasons
yet to unfold in you
sun-soaked glade
I need your rays
to germinate
Denel Kessler Feb 2016
He pulls away, precariously balanced
above the raucous creek slicing through
the campground’s city-like togetherness

she protectively hovers, hands cupped
inches from his slender back, prepared to grab
honoring his need for independence

the crooked lodge pole leans
toward what little sun is bestowed
upon it by its larger brethren

a mother, a child
a tree, a stream
soft light.
Denel Kessler Jan 2016
we are here
to bless                                
restore                    ­                                                              

the broken
holy
whole

mold
peace
from chaos

cradle
vulnerability
with devotion

let our love
be absolute            
unfettered

asking nothing
but to freely
speak
Peace my poet friends...
Denel Kessler Dec 2016
in the dark
compass spinning
wanton wind
howling, wailing
brittle arms
in concert waving
emerald waters
whipped and raging

sky crushed velvet
sequins sewn tight
to the shattered
span of night
a million times
each time as new
with stardust eyes
with gratitude
Sun
Denel Kessler Oct 2015
Sun
All I've known
of love
has been bound
by duty, expectation
filaments of need

golden moments
of being
recognized
a rare flicker
in the darkness.

I sought
a nameless place
where one could
defy the laws
of gravity

held captive
simply
by the radiance
of a rising sun
between us.
Denel Kessler Mar 2016
Wild dreams
consume the night
all teeth and tongue
rough mustache
on warm skin
hands seeking
once secret places
now a sanctuary
where love
and pleasure
intertwine

I wake hungry
for your touch
craving midnight
fantasies made real
but my bed is empty
no point in lingering
this morning
I settle for hot coffee
nothing more
to sweeten
Sunday
Denel Kessler Mar 2016
Your kindness
a sunflower
whose many seeds
sustain the sparrow's
song of joy
and rest assured
do gorgeously
germinate in
thin-hulled souls
the soil is ripe
love yearns
to be reborn.
For certain people, loving kindness is as easy as breathing. Thank you for being such a one, paul SN.
Denel Kessler Mar 2016
I seek
the whole
pitch
and whine
the petty
grasping
ridiculous
insecure
******* mess
behind the
lyrical niceties

but you know that
you get me
we ride the same
pendulum
apex
of light
nadir
of night
and like me
you're still learning
to speak

sometimes
words die
in your mouth
never make it out
resting roundly sweet
on your passive
tongue
bitter truth
I would forgive
before I'd see you
swallow


*Better to risk offending than let your truth die unsaid.
Denel Kessler Jul 2016
I stood flat-footed upon an eroding hill

Here the sweet peas, on tip-toe for a fight
With wing of coarsest black o'er delicate night
And spiteful fingers grasping at all beauty
To bind us all in deeds unworthy

Oh, toxic wind and fertile rain
Disperse the fragrance of this pain
In healing gardens root a seed
Sprout the bliss we sorely need

This tiny pulse of life we hold
Thrives in soil tilled with love
And tender vines create a bower
Of sweet pea tended, brought to flower


I stand bare foot on an erupting volcanic mount

Here the sweet peas, on tip toe for a flight
With wing of justice verity o’er delicate sight
And nails that compassionately snowball serenity
To bind us all with concord and altruism

Oh, acidic rain share the tears
Wash thy tainted eye-sight
Then crux us in the high-yield land
As we germinate to heaven’s height

The seed so robust and fertile
A shell encased with human forms
The greenness of reflected sextile
Oh Sweet pea, our mirrored storm



Inspired by a stanza from Keats' poem:

I stood tip-toe upon a little hill

Here are sweet peas, on tip-toe for a flight:
With wing of gentle flush o’er delicate white,
And taper fingers catching at all things,
To bind them all about with tiny rings."
I wrote the intro line and first three stanzas, Sassy J the second intro line and last three stanzas.  

It was truly a pleasure to work with Sassy J - master of flow and cosmic rhyme.  Her quick mind, sense of social justice, huge heart, and loving soul make her a must-read if you don't know her work already.  Thank you, my special "sweet pea", for suggesting the topic and wanting to work with me!

The sweet pea *(lathyrus odoratus)* derives its name from the Greek word lathyros *(pulse)* and the Latin word odoratus *(fragrant)*.
Sweet peas symbolize bliss or delicate pleasure, they are often given as a thank you.
Denel Kessler Dec 2015
The literati are moaning
about the crowning
of a comical smiley-face
with tears of joy
springing from its eyes
as Oxford Dictionaries 2015
"Word of the Year"

it's historic
indicative of a generation
raised on media shorthand
though some people think
the distillation of thought
to acronyms, symbols, emoji
is a bad thing too

but in these icons
heavy black heart
face throwing a kiss
reversed hand with ******* extended
even the simple : )
I see emotion
stripped bare

the whole gorgeous
heart-rending, horrible
hateful range of it
illustrating the dark
and light
of who we are
as a human race

So I say hail and welcome
to the "tears of joy" emoji
may his vivid counterpoint
shine around the world
eclipsing all the words
we've learned this year
for hate.
Denel Kessler Nov 2016
Boundaries converge
subduction, descension
divergent margins widen
convective from the core
red hot and sticky
hardening to obsidian

succumb to subterranean pull
an infinitesimal slide below
dense and pressured soil
the slow parting seam
a rift becomes a chasm
consuming solid ground
Denel Kessler Dec 2016
tepid waters do not lie
gale is to cyclone
as rain to thundercloud
no amount of counter-spin
will make them anything other
than atmospheric unrest

El Niño, La Niña
how to read
the unsettled waters
upwelling from the deep
what should feed us
leaves us starving, weak

orcas encircle their kin
emaciated mother, tiny calf
dying from ocean’s lack
while we look on and moan
all the power to change
if we only cared to own it
In the Strait of Juan de Fuca (between Washington state and Vancouver Island, Canada) a resident female orca recently died from what scientists believe to be malnutrition and environmental toxins.  Her young male calf likely died as well, he was too young to survive without a mother.  The last aerial photos taken of the mother and calf show her emaciated, held afloat by family members. A heartbreaking sight.

On the heels of these deaths, there is increasing concern that this resident pod of orcas, numbering about 80 individuals, is declining to the point where it can’t recover.
Denel Kessler Feb 2016
I have held
softly pulsing
newborn heartbeat fluttering
breath of love, dying
arc of a life, trying
not to cling
too tightly
to anything

I have touched
directly to my tongue
felt the jolt
spark my lips
so pure
crystallized
I became
undone

I have fought
with abundant faith
despite knowing
the human continuum
feckless tide
love or hate
maybe it really is
up to fate

I have radiated
divine conductor
electric soul
it flows in me
it flows in you
we are all
pure energy
clean-burning fuel
Denel Kessler Feb 2016
nomad
hungry ghost
trembling hands
outstretched
forever seeking
that which does not
sustain

alms
for the golden
empty bowl
offerings laid
on the morning altar
until there is
no barrier

only
giver and receiver
giving and receiving
adjoined
without end
that which circles
becomes eternal

all is but illusion
we remain
unbound
released from suffering
what was fractured
in wholeness
will be found.
Denel Kessler Jan 2016
Come, my love
let us speak now
the language
of skin

imprint
your lexicon
in my every hollow

stroke that soft spot
above my hipbone
you love so well

linger there
like we have
forever

mold my body
to fit yours
wrap me in sleep

precious few
hours remain
imagine to never
touch again.
Is there anything better?
: )
Denel Kessler Dec 2015
He only lost her when
the music stopped

inner light faded from her face
her narrow arms, restless eels
winding through her shirt
snapping at the rising buzz
of voices, increasingly unbearable.

The teacher swooped in, miming
arms held close, contained; too late
for the pianist, armed with her name
and a captive audience, he accented
her frailty with two sharp syllables

and she was gone from there
to some mysterious world  
away from the crowd frozen
in the silent beat after
the reprimand.

It was only a moment
before the music resumed
opening notes vibrated up
through her toes, lovely arms
unraveled and rose overhead

her radiant smile
unfurled like forgiveness.
I wrote this after watching young children at a musical performance.  An autistic girl stole the show by completely inhabiting the music with her joyful body.  It was a lovely thing to witness.  But in a brief lull between numbers, she grew restless.  The pianist yelled the word NO and her name and it was like she instantly disappeared from her own body. Only the music brought her back. A regret I still carry is not speaking out against the pianist's very public shaming.  I ask that child and her parents for forgiveness.
Denel Kessler Jul 2016
seeds lie barren
on the hardpan
of a soul craving

seek absolution
on scarred knees
search for bliss
in the brief bloom
after sparse rain
believe these offerings
are not in vain

seeds lie dormant
awaiting
grace
Denel Kessler Mar 2016
To face the fear of being liquid, I go under, float the drift.  Leave the boat behind, no worries.  I am in no hurry     to school with the rest, colorful parrot fish, at home in the depths.  

I am not afraid of sharks materializing from the inked abyss. The nothing in their soulless eyes is just black-bottomed assessing - not one of us.

In a lazuli sea, the barracuda cartel tails me, their silver barrels rule the reef, leering grins glinting diamonds, hungry pirates seeking gold hidden in my tender lobes.  

Yellow-bellied sea snakes swarm, their sinuously wicked heads disappear and reappear on ebb and crest of every wave, see their split tongues read the chemistry of each exhaled breath.

A swollen catch unsought.  Forsworn.  What's lost will be reborn.  From within, yolk still tethered, resting on the bottom.  Net a dying heart, return it to the deep, watch it roll and flutter, remember how to beat.
*When metaphors intersect with true stories*
Denel Kessler Jul 2016
on the verge of wilderness
imminent silence*

welcome
the sun stroking
peaks aglow
the thundering falls
mist-kissed rain
the solitude
so rarely reached
too often breached

stillness loosen
untamed words
in the native tongue
before thoughts
unspoken
became yours
mine
ours

to the wild
bear these
cryptic symbols
scrawled on
my halved heart
tokens of longing
succor
for the lost
Denel Kessler Jul 2016
a hollow
swinging gourd
the swallow
snatches sustenance
mid-flight

an orchard
cherries rotting
on a mossy lawn
fodder for the
grounded dove

two shells
unhinged
sand erodes truth
the pearl
is an iridescent lie

a fissure
lost river deep
timeless echo
ricochet
repeat
Denel Kessler Mar 2016
longing to be liquid
a restless wanderer
let loose the lines
unfurled the main
with severed heart
set solitary course
on an uncaring sea

adrift
the lonely sailor
preserved remains
from his lips
the final note
love's lost
refrain
Manfred Fritz Bajorat's mummified remains were recently discovered aboard his sailboat by fishermen off the coast of the Philippines.

Found on a internet sailor's forum were Manfred's final words, written to his deceased wife, Claudia:
"Thirty years we’re together on the same path. Then the power of the demons was stronger than the will to live. You’re gone. May your soul find its peace. Your Manfred."

Like the tiger shark he was nicknamed for, Manfred roamed the oceans alone for many years.  He hadn't been seen by anyone since 2009...
Denel Kessler Dec 2015
the poet
a scribe
recording
divine whispers

her muse
earthly angels
sent to
translate

her prayer
open me
so I may
receive
Denel Kessler Nov 2016
The lost congregate
a lodestone of despair
draws them together
all that could be said
to make things better
sleek shallow lies
dry crumbling mortar
howling chaos beckons
beyond walls of order
at the unhinged door
a legion of wolves
refusing to be tamed
snarling and ripping
at what little remains
Denel Kessler Jan 2016
We crash through
Class V relationships
with no life jacket
emerge waterlogged
and disintegrating
only to blunder through
thorny undergrowth
while searching empty
pockets for some
kind of map
to this always
foreign territory.
Denel Kessler Dec 2016
transparent seeds
nest in winter hollows
the future reflected
in all-knowing eyes
an internal compass buried
in each golden heart

dappled forest light
on the natal stream
memories of salt
ingrained within
the latent lure
of open ocean

our destinies are silver
a return to clear waters
transformed revenants
glassy-eyed and gasping
on the gravel bed
that birthed us
Denel Kessler Nov 2015
A shock of venom
oh, succulent hate
like honey to the most avid tongue.

We could turn away
carve a shallow life from the thin bone of oblivion
construct intricate vortices in which to endlessly swirl.

We could withdraw
terminal distrust gradually withering our lives
it would not still the voices screaming.

I seek the source of my own complicity
backtrack to the point at which I swung
from disillusioned to disengaged

my apathy mistaken for acceptance.
Vow
Denel Kessler Jan 2016
Vow
I will take the time
to gaze upon
the burnished chest
of the resident hawk
while I am waiting
for the sun to drop
and pastel
the water blue

I will patiently
wait
for the mountains
to radiate
for my heart
to steady
for the return
of peace

I will relinquish
control over
my tiny world
scattered thoughts
flying up
brushing
their curved wings
against me

I will remember
land and sea
will forever be
remaining long after
we hurt each other
long after we turn
our backs
on love

I will take the time
to be still
moon balanced
on my open palm
illusive beacon
enlighten
the coming
night
Denel Kessler Aug 2016
roasting asphalt oven
sweat and petroleum pungent
a festival in the truest sense
diversity beyond societal bland
tolerance arches over rainbow
colored heads banging to the beat
the great goddess smiles as we dance
she knows true love when she sees it

sing to the dying sun
draping white shoulders afire
above lahar fields green again
successions of ash and germination
evidence of universal rotation
barren to blessed
sway to the eternal rhythm
bass heartbeat in our chests
Warped Tour 2016 with my daughter!

Mt. Rainier is very near the venue.  On this hot and sunny day, she was out in all her glory, watching over the festivities.

Summer has swallowed me!  My apologies for not responding to comments and reading your work consistently.  Love and Peace to you all!
Denel Kessler Nov 2015
You must begin early
while it is cool and your head clear
discernment, a sharpened tine
probing the rocky darkness
for all things latent and destructive.

Be aware that the velvet sage
of the leaves belies their power
to take over every space, remember
roots burrow deep, anchoring in
fissures we don’t even know exist.

You must delve as close
to the origin as possible
or the **** you think eradicated
will bide its time, germinating
in the still secret ground

waiting for light
to penetrate the moist earth
waking the sprout
who voraciously pushes up and out
a curled blemish

in your otherwise carefully tended garden.
Denel Kessler Mar 2016
an enduring cypress
immortal knotted rings
until death
two as one
held breath

a contorted filbert
purple catkins bring to flower
deeply rooted visions
creativity, awareness, knowledge
enlightened fruition

a variegated willow
to drink up sorrow's rain
in tolerance we bend
but not to point
of breaking

three trees
foretell a future
laced with little deaths
cypress, filbert, willow
lest we should forget
Denel Kessler Feb 2016
Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who make the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips
and the nodding morning glories,
and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and crotchety -

best preacher that ever was,
dear star, that just happens
to be where you are in the universe
to keep us from ever-darkness,
to ease us with warm touching,
to hold us in the great hands of light -
good morning, good morning, good morning,

Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.
Hello and Good Morning!
: )
In my humble opinion, everything Mary Oliver has ever written is profound.  This is one of my favorites.

"to ease us with warm touching,
to hold us in the great hands of light"
Seriously?  So, so good!
Denel Kessler Mar 2016
The Mountain keeps all secrets. Crusted lichen on timeworn boulders. High altitude longing for alpine daisies. Carefree blossoms, long ago plucked, gone to seed, restless in the fertile ground.  Wildflowers bloom shortly sweet, fleeting paintbrush to layered canvas. Fairy slippers lost on crumbling doorsteps. Glacier lilies pressed between avalanched pages.  Forget-me-nots in forgotten blue hollows. The common harebell feels anything but common when seen through a lover's eyes. Forest tiger, your bulbs taste bitter. Purple lupines sage with fuzzy-leafed logic.  Fireweed, *****, unadorned, eternally reaching. Lousewort, spreading phlox, leave this scarlet alone.  Listen to Indian Henry, it's bad luck to trample what is sacred. The devil dreams behind steep and sheltered walls. Keep to the Wonderland, bypass this Trail of Shadows.  Seek ancient hunting grounds, steadfast shelter in the wooded clearing.  There is no pearly everlasting along these old trails.  Paradise lost may never be regained.
Denel Kessler Jan 2017
The most
dangerous
are those
sincere
in their belief
of a lie
Denel Kessler Oct 2015
A chill wind
prepares the land for sleep
snow-weighted clouds
brush golden-stubbled wheat fields
and bare clotted earth
laid out in heirloom patchwork
stitched from lean and bountiful years.

Poplar trees
arranged in perfectly
contoured lines
resist enforced conformity
their flaming arms
reach for each other
tangle and entwine.

Here,
good souls touch down
like wind-blown seeds
from distant lands
of sunlit love
fading purple twilight
and midnight blackness

gently settling
in fertile, protected hollows
where possibilities rest
and winter-over
awaiting the time to wake
and begin anew.
Written for my mother during a major transition in her life.
Denel Kessler May 2016
I have been
nothing before
and while I prefer
to be something
to you
zero
is a perfect circle
the beginning
the end
one seamless strand
made whole

— The End —