I watch my cat limp across the living room
try to jump on the once so easy chair
My mind leaps to an article I read
about a 6 year old child locked
in a basement for years
eating only junk food
and pissing on his mattress.
I wonder how many others
aren't discovered at all and just
live out their lives that way.
I wonder how many people
and animals
are unnecessarily being
brutalized
Right now
And then my mind leaps to Putin
and the Ukraine
Palestine and Israel.
The downing of planes.
The taking of lives.
The stopping of oil and gas.
And I wonder why
I haven't responded to my last
email. Or text message
I watch my cat limp across the living room
try to jump on the chair
once so easy.
- Debbie Calverley
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
I Knew the Selfie was old news......
http://www.vivianmaier.com/gallery/self-portraits/
No compromise. Love it. Nothing is new under the sun and so more creative.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Poem
Do I write about you?
Have you gone? Or
are you perched on your throne
in my head pocket full of
beeswax -
faintly humming
your favourite song.
Debbie Calverley
Have you gone? Or
are you perched on your throne
in my head pocket full of
beeswax -
faintly humming
your favourite song.
Debbie Calverley
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Allen Grossman - The Ballad of the Bone Boat
The Ballad of the Bone Boat
(Meditation Three)
Allen Grossman (1932-2014)
I dreamed I sailed alone
In a long boat, a white bone;
Like a strong thought, or a right name
The sail had no seam.
The mast, and its shadow on the sea,
Fled like one high lonely tree
Bent with the weight of the wind-fruit sown
By the cold storm.
It was a dream of dignity
When I steered on that plated sea
With a seamless sail, and a boat like a bone,
In a fair time of the moon.
There was no rudder in the long bone boat,
The compass was a stone –
The air was empty of the deep sea gull,
And gone was the cry of the loon.
The sea and the sky were one dark thing,
The eye and the hand as cold.
Unbound was my hair, unbound was my dress;
Nothing beckoned or called
But the words of a song
That had death in its tune
And death in its changes and close –
A song which I sang in the eye of the moon,
And a secret name that I chose.
And this is the song: “Straight is the way
When the compass is a stone,
And the sail has no seam, and the boat is a bone,
And the mast is bent like a tree that bears
The wind-fruit of the moon.”
And now I sing, O come with me,
And be at last alone;
For straight is the way in the dream of the boat
That is a long white bone.
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