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 Jan 2021 Beau Donner
Me
A young girl playing
recklessly
in the fire
orange lashes curl
unburned
while everything stands
to her aid
The blessed harp
Sacred instrument,
of healing, and art,
power of vibration,
touches numerous,
levels of spiritual,
internal parts
Gentle resonant,
mellow cascading,
reverberating
Crystal clear,
sounding board,
wooden box,
and, strings,
played by the wind
Aeolian harp,
sending,
musical vibrations,
restoring and,
reviving the body,
rejuvenate,
like fine art,
reconcile music therapy,
providing,
sequential memory,
and, recall from the start,
release exploration,
of emotions
You will surely use your,
gross and, fine motor
motions,
improving respiration,
helping to lower,
the pressure,
improved cardiac output,
no stresser
Beautiful harp,
hearing no pressure,
just soothing,
holistic pleasure

© 2021 Carol Natasha Diviney
(a sonnet)

Two realities, both alike in dignity,
In fair America, where we lay our scene,
There fallacious grudges explode into mutiny,
and lawful-blood makes patriot-hands unclean.

From common bonds these neighborly foes,
sail contrary seas of truth; on which they stake their lives.
Some, stoked for misadventure, by the host of a TV show,
do with their scurrilous deeds bury their futures for strife.

The fearful passage of compatriots love,
by continued embrace of marketed rage,
which, admitted truth and humility could dispose of,
fills now our breathless hours and sets our stage.

Which of you, with angry hearts, will patient peace attend,
and back away from martial games so pointless strife can end?
I start off with a twisted sample of Shakespeare - to set the tone - and purposefully have two inversions ("fills now" instead of the more modern "now fills") for a (hopefully) classical feel.
Remembering rains evokes
memories of my efforts to
stop it from overwhelming me
with a broken umbrella.
I believe I believe
I believe in the stars
I believe in the sound of the rain
I believe in the seas
I believe in the ear on the track and the sound of the train.

I’m no monk
I’ve no gasoline can
I’m no protest symbol
I’m no match for the believer with struck match
I believe in the unseen support of the choir
I believe we can sing out, shout out, or flame out
I believe we can’t tire out or put the fire out
I’m no monk
I’ve no match
I’ve not set myself afire.

But I believe
in the echo’s return
But I believe
in a soul fire’s ash-free burn.

I believe in the felled forest
I believe in the dissipating clouds
I believe in the march without rest
I believe in testing those testing us
I believe in the pains cried aloud
I believe in the speech no longer allowed .

I believe in the unvoiced voices
I believe in the tentative choices
I believe in the scarred bark
and the broken branch.
I believe in the disease’s footprint, this burl
I believe in the taproot, the sunshine; this world.

I believe in the electricity
I believe in the chemistry
   (Not in the wire, not in the flask.)
I believe in the electricity and chemistry
between two hearts with everything to sing
and nothing to ask.

I believe in the broken voice
I believe in the stolen tide
I believe in the dying breeze
I believe in the bald cypress, lonely on the cliff
I believe in the windblown tuft of seed
I believe in the healing palm and loving hand
I believe in the rot and the pebbles’ fate
to return to these beaches one day as sand.

I believe in the scent of frankincense
and the furry power of the purr.
I believe in the smile
I believe in the tear

I believe in the lamplight
I believe in the campfire
I believe in the stories planted in songs
I believe in the buzzard
I believe in the Sky.

I believe in the human heart
and the bird brain.
I believe in the whisper of pinecones
I believe in the spirit
   of komorebi,
      of petrichor,
         of kami,
            of qì.

I believe I believe
I may be deceived
but I believe I believe
I believe in the power of song
I believe in the shade and the lit
I believe in mosses and stones
I believe the weak are also strong, always strong
I believe in taking a stand and the power of sit
I believe in losses and bones.

I believe in the Elders
   I believe in forgetting.
I believe in the Ancients
   I believe in remembering...
I believe in the handprint in ochre.

I believe in the great and the lost
I believe in the good and the grand
I believe in the minuscule and the beginner
I believe in the mediocre.

I believe in the story of soot
I believe in the heart as well as the foot.

I believe in the canker, the scar
I believe in the cancer
trying to carve a life from life.
I believe in the piglet
and the nest-fallen, crestfallen wren.
I believe in the inbreath, the out
I believe in the powerless and the rumbling of stomachs.

I believe in the plaintive howl of the empty.
I believe incense rising in silken curl
I believe in the dragon and the caretaken pearl
I believe in the cold and the dying
I believe in the old and the ancestral
I believe in the young and the transcendental.

I believe in the moon a balloon
caught up in January trees.
I believe in the rain droplets
   (long after the Rain)
I believe in the dew droplets
clung to fern, clung to turtleback, clung to clay
   (long after the Sunup)

I believe in the frost-heave
of silent sod on a Winter’s eve.
I believe in the hoarfrost
I believe in the petroglyphic vernal pool,
closing in to itself, cracked and drying
and too parched to be crying.

I believe in the sweet pull
of angular momentum;
rounding a corner too far and too fast,
palming the corner or column
and swinging unaligned to face a new path.

I believe in the the cat's fur and the cat's purr,
the sound of lark and the scent of the larkspur.
I believe in the post-rain bejewelment of Winter birch branch.

I believe I believe
And though I know
I won’t achieve
the depth of belief
of a shorn-headed man in a robe
taking a match to himself for the globe
I continue to believe that I believe
in the many simple things
the many simple not-at-all things
that the mind brings to light
and the light brings to mind.

I believe in this moment
that I believe in this moment.
Take life for an escalator
Go both through its ups
and downs
Ride it like on an elevator
Expect both smiles and
frowns.

Take life for a suspense
novel
you and I unaware what
the next day will hold
Meditate and muse, or
this book of life just
peruse
Pore over it to watch
life's mysteries unfold.

Take life for the open sea
But pray drown not
yourself in it
lest you lose sight of
God's shore
and thereby lose all
spiritual wit.

Take life for a candle
let its glow illumine
others too
and in each and every of
its flicker
Try finding a hint or clue

Each soul's life unique as
mazes of one's
thumbprint
And usually for many
life's quite an uphill battle
At times sweet as
molasses, at times bitter
as mint
and life's roller coaster
may shake you like a rattle.

Life tis like the rise and
fall of notes
Consoling to find people
in the same boats
Ah on life you can find a
zillion quotes.

Thus ponder over your
life and reflect
how good you've been
to it
and not just how it's
been treating you
Veer around the pit, and
keep your path lit
for darkness of the soul
is for you unfit.

Take it in its stride even if it's a bittersweet life
Downhill's a joy ride, uphill has to be strife
poor birds

have it difficult the best of times
then comes the festivals
those traditions

that mean they must die

talking of which
now we know

with our present hidings and isolation
distancing

how they live at all times

the creatures burn and die
fly
away

i watch the squirrels down the back lane
each day
sometimes one will stop running and

we look at each other

a while
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