Poem…..”O Vapory Spring Moon”

(watercolor painting above by author below.)

 

“O vapory Spring moon,

rising in a pale, silken sky

shedding upon earth

reclaimed innocence.”
–

Some poetic hope that Dorian turns to the east and bedevils the sea.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2019

“Original Blessing”

 

I am dizzy with love,

Standing in the rain,

This cosmic blessing

Pouring on my head,

Mingling with tears of gratitude

Til one stream

can not be deciphered

From the other.

 

I am an Original Blessing,

As are you,

And we are not born in sin,

But brought into the light of life

In great joy and anticipation.

 

Our first bellows are not of pain

But surprise at the roominess of the Cosmos,

As we kick our feet, flail our arms

And finally open our eyes at the glorious colors

Of Nature.

 

Original sin would have us

Born rotten,

A theological monkey on our back–

But I know no God of the Cosmos

Who would scar these tiny blessings

With such a heavy burden.

 

Original Blessing is a deliverance,

A deliverance of hope, trust and pride

A heritage where we can discern and save

Ourselves,

Walk in harmony with the Earth,

Stride with God across the span of life–

For this Earth is our cradle,

And all in it our kin.

 

For a truly wise person

Kneels at the feet of all creatures

And is not afraid to endure

The mockery of others.

 

And when the day sidles up to night

I will settle into the nest of the Earth,

Draw the dark blanket of the Cosmos

Across me,

Pillow my head upon stars

And know that the blessings I have been

Graced with today and always

Have come from the womb of God.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2012-16

“Original Blessing” was published in “Pitcher of Moon”, Amazon.com, 2014

 

 

 

 

“First Snowfall”….

 

‘PITCHER OF MOON’ NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON.COM!~

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Outside from second story window….

Mimi prowling in the snow this am.

 

This morning the sun is shining, the snow and ice are melting and it’s beautiful outside. A chance to snuggle down and read books.  And bake bread.

Lady Nyo

 

First Snowfall

 

There is such beauty in the still-night.

A sudden snowfall has pushed

The boundaries of the mundane back

And fantasy flows like outrageous myths.

–

The white challenges the moon

Lights up a trampled ground

And gives a purity to all it covers.

Shadows form where there were none

A supple mystery to things once familiar.

Now a strange and alluring world

Transformed, remade anew,

Even forbidding as  huge trees

Groan with an icy burden

And bushes  split in two

With the weight of an alien gift,

 Powerlines crystalized spider webs

Criss-crossing streets.

–

The silence is deep

No modern disturbance intrudes.

It is Winter’s gag on our fretfulness,

Our restlessness, our noise.

We are commanded to stay inside

By the fire, to read a book,

To look outside and admire

A miracle that we, with all our intelligence

Can not reproduce.

–

This is Winter’s true gift.

We are to obey the season

This enforced solitude,

To wrap ourselves in this quilt of quiet,

Cast off our endless activity,

To finally be still,

To heal with the balm of serenity.

–

 Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2014

“Winter Into Spring”

“Nuthatches”, watercolor, 2006, Jane Kohut-Bartels

WINTER INTO SPRING

Mysterious, silent season,
Where life and reason are suspended
Upon a cold metal wire.
The wind– a razoring of clipper glass
Sailing through glassine air
Slicing the pallid sun’s surface–
An attempt to warm a frigid earth
To remembered fertility.
–
Solemn seasonal palette,
White, gray, black,
Cut with a flash of blood-red-
A Kamikaze cardinal!
Like the demon wind bearing its name,
Dares the thin and paling air
To brighten only a moment–
A witness to recurring life.
–
Season of bountiful snow
Brings a thirsting to the land
Where hoar-frost leaches
Moisture with a crystallized withering-
Hands to crack, bark to shatter,
And all dries and curls about
In a perverse furnace of freeze.
–
One day, a pale day
Southern breezes
Break through the bonds of Winter
Brushes , sidles up
To ice
And a crack like a thump is felt in the gut,
A slow drip-drip of water
Signals the end of this harsh season,
As icicles emit a hesitant stream,
Then the ice- dam down in the brook
Explodes with a louder sound
And the rush to Spring
Is heralded with the noise.
–
A slight movement underground
Felt deep in the soil-
A careful stirring,
A rumble in the gut of the surface
As birth replaces death
Pushing through Earth’s womb
To a weak sun above–
–
The tyranny of Winter now broken.
–

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2011, 2013
From “White Cranes of Heaven”, 2011, Lulu.com

In Sickness and Health and a new poem ‘Turkey Vulture’

“Viriditas”, wc, janekohut-bartels, 2000

This has not been a good year health-wise. Beginning of the year, I severely sprained my right ankle.  That took 5 months to recover  as i ripped tissue. April 1st I had 5 weeks of vertigo where I would have been happy enough dead.  July 4th I broke my left wrist and cracked a rib in a 6 foot fall from the back porch.  I am trying to type this in the one finger peck and hunt mode.  In mid-Sept. I am scheduled for 5 dental implants and something called a sinus-floor-raising. I had to stop all pain meds because they raise blood pressure too high. 

I don’t recommend a broken bone anywhere without pain meds….now, just aspirin.

The “Sickness and In Health” part of this entry is about my husband of many years: he has shown amazing fortitude in the face of all of this, and has taken over the lion’s share of household labor.  I am truly grateful.  I make a mess of the kitchen trying one-handed to make dinner, etc…..and he spends more than an hour cleaning it up.  Everynight.

He has cheerfully been at my beck and call, and I continue to be amazed.  This is love in real time, with dirty hair, catankerous moods and tears on my side and commanding strength and patience on his.

I am reminded of part of a poem by W.H. Auden:

Rejoice. What talent for the makeshift thought

A living corpus out of odds and ends…..

The sensual properties of one dear face?

It’s from Auden’s poem “In Sickness and In Health”.

This situation has not been inspiring any poetry, or anything much else….but yesterday…or actually the night before, I went to sleep with some words in my mouth…by morning i had a poem, one that needs work, but at least there was something.  I think this is what disturbed me most of all….this emptiness of thought, any creativity….taken over by pain that I could not control. It controls me.

Lady Nyo

–

Turkey vulture

–

I once knew a woman

Living in a scrubby trailer park

Down near the scrub pines of Florida.

–

She was poor as a church mouse,

half –crazed by life.

She fed all strays

-was the pariah of the neighborhood.

–

Every evening a flock of vultures,

Like fixed-wing aircraft

Would skim the pines,

Land in a muddle of feathers,

(Awkward birds out of their element)

Land, and with a group waddle

Come to the cat food offered in pans.

–

They were patient guests

And waited for the strays to finish.

–

There was decorum

Among them,

These fierce looking birds.

Perhaps the charity offered

Had humbled their nature:

Or perhaps they had reformed;

I don’t know.

They had a leader named “Frank”

Who held back until the others were done.

–

Frank would never face you;

He sat sideways

(Though I believe he peeked.)

Perhaps he was ashamed

A Lord of the Sky

Brought down to this station,

To fill his crop with kibble

From a dented metal pan.

–

Come sit with me.

Extend a feather,

I promise not to stare.

Your warty red neck,

Your hang-dog countenance

Does not disturb me.

–

Come sit beside me,

Let our talons dig into the sand

Let the ocean cleanse our feathers

I will call you friend, brother

For the gift of trust

You have brought on your wings.

–

jane kohut-bartels

copyrighted, 2012