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Starr Rexdale Aug 2016
The mourning dove gave half a coo
Then settled in her nest
She just could not be bothered
She had to get her rest

In fact she didn't give a ****
For reasons not so moot
The dove was not an owl, you see
And couldn't give a hoot!
Lying on my deck, I heard a mourning dove give a single "coo" instead of the usual 3 coos.
Starr Rexdale Sep 2016
Strike a match
A small fire blooms
Feebly lighting
These sacred rooms

Approach the shrine
Delicately handle
Touch the fire
Light the candle

On the altar
Its flame at first
Begins to falter
Then catches as it goes........

Burning and churning
Bouncing and flouncing
Dancing and prancing
Quaking and shaking
Glowing and flowing
Zooming and fluming
Swaying and playing
Shimmering and glimmering
Flickering and wickering
Wiggling and jiggling
Glittering and flittering
Flowering and towering
Brightening and lightening

Then........
Fluttering and sputtering and guttering
As a gust from the window
Makes the flame go
Sparkening then darkening
Smoking and choking

The candle's gone out
Leaving only a spark
Concentration in doubt
Rooms swallowed in dark

Meditation mind
Gone with the wind
When I meditated at my altar, watching the flame, the poet in me would fasten on two or more words that rhymed to describe its movement. This distracted me from meditating, so I made a poem out of it. That way I could put it away and get back to focusing on meditating.
Starr Rexdale Aug 2016
I looked into my body
And saw a sky of night
With stars and Mars and galaxies
Expanding out of sight

The atoms of this body
Were spread across a space
So vast, so bright, so sacred
It could only be God's face

— The End —