“O Absalom! ” A love poem………..

 

Absalom, King David’s son, caught by his hair in battle.

 

Rose from garden ….

O Absalom!

Ensnared by long hair in the

Boughs of an oak,

Pierced through the heart three times–

Shimmer of life now fading.

–

I,

Pulled into mysteries

So abandoned by love

Now given over to lust

Charged with stolen rapture

Dizzy as a drunken dervish-

One hand upward to Heaven

One hand spilling to Earth

Skirts stiffened with sins hard as stone

Corrupted over a life time and now–

Flayed on an unending mandala.

–

Mystery of Life,

Unstoppable desire,

O beautiful Absalom,

We float upon a divine river

Entangled in the reeds of human wanting.

–

This is our nature,

 This our calling while

Flesh answers flesh.

–

What quarter be given when the heart is

Overwhelmed by passions excess?

–

Lie still–

Let the waters cleanse our loins,

Mud of the banks soothe our wounds,

Our blood mingle with the floating grasses,

Our hearts sink beneath the surface.

–

Let the rivers of Babylon

Carry us away.

–

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2010, 2013 , from “A Seasoning of Lust”, 2009, Lulu.com

The Lady Nyo, with glitter

‘Musings On The End Of A Day’, from “A Seasoning of Lust”

—

Something to clear the air. Thank you, all who have written to us about Sophie.

Lady Nyo

—

I move my chair

to observe Mt. Fuji-

monstrous  perfection

topped with the cooling crust

of spring snows.

–

Languid movements

of a branch,

like a geisha

unfurling her arm

from a gray kimono,

makes petals fall,

a scented, pink snow

covering my upturned face

with careless kisses.

–

Timid winds caress

my limbs,

bringing relief

to old and tired bones

brittle now with life’s argument

and sullen defeat.

–

Raked sands of garden

waves are hardly disturbed

by feet like two gray stones

and grains  flow

round ankles and

I realize once again

I am no obstacle to

the ‘sands of time’.

–

My heart is quieted

by the passage of nothing

for in this nothing

is revealed the fullness of life.

–

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2009

Again, Gratitude….

Time out,  look around and give thanks.

These last two weeks have been wild.  Coming home from Montreal has been interesting.  Bill Penrose released “Seasonings” sooner than I thought it would be, but this has been a good thing in the scope of things.

This weekend, I have been scattered and fried, as things caught up with me.  I have had to answer for  offers of promotion and you have to pick wisely.  I generally don’t because I don’t know what to look for. I throw everything up in the air like cards, and catch things as they fall.  That is how I work when overwhelmed, not in precise ways.   I poke out my eyes this way a lot.

I should not complain.  These are opportunities.  I am very fortunate the book has caught the eye of some people, and I am more blessed that it has caught the attention of some international poets and writers.

Dr. Singh for one, in India.  Dr. Singh has published over 40 volumes of poetry, mostly haiku, tanka, freeverse and other forms of poetry.  There are also his many critical reviews.

He has just published another book of poetry and Damn! if this isn’t some of the most exciting, provocative and alluring poetry I have ever read.

http://prakashbookdepot.blogspot.com/2009/01/sexless-solitude-and-other-poems.html

I can’t praise this book more highly. It is one of the most exciting and heartfelt pieces of literature I have read.  Poetry is so subjective, but Dr Singh makes it broad, universal and resonate in the hearts, minds and experiences of anyone.  An astounding poet is Dr. Singh.

He picked up my poetry on this blog months ago, and praised it.  That was like water to a thirsty woman.  Dr. Singh (and his colleague) have continued to encourage me in my writing and any praise from him spurs me on.

So, I am very thankful for the attention of this wonderful and well published man.

I am also thankful for my friends on ERWA and NDY (Not Dead Yet) , writers groups.  They have carried me many times when I was really out of my mind over stupid issues, and sometimes wrote such wonderful blog comments, I put them on the front pages where they continued to give me a break.

Others, not so in the forefront of my life, were also helpful because when you think of it, a writer’s life is made up of experiences, it ain’t all in the head.  And the experiences can be trying and traumatic, but they usually propel one to produce, something, even if it’s in angst.

So, I am grateful for those needlers.  They are necessary to a full life.  And a more colorful one at that.

Thank you, and you know who you are….

Bill Penrose, again, deserves more mention and praise.  He stands by to do the same magic with Volume II of “Seasonings” to be out this early summer.  Thank you, Bill, but you already know how I feel about you…and not just for your editorializing.

I am thankful for my belly dancer friends.  They know I can get ‘lost’ and they find me sooner or later.  I heard from Mari this morning, the physical vision of Mari in “The Kimono” a beautiful Japanese woman I met in belly dancing years ago.  What a visual delight to write a novel with her in my minds eye. Also Dea, a bellydancer in Seattle who has been searching this blog for the bellydancing articles buried in all this other jazz.  (I’ll email them to you, Dea, easier that way!)

I am thankful for my new belly dancing students because you push me to attend to something I have grown to love: teaching.  And you are ALL good.

And finally, my husband and son….son because he does the audio sound work for my podcasts (get them converted, will you, Chris???)

and he changes the cat litter and cleans the hen’s house and corrals the dogs.

Husband, because he is always there for his scattered and sometimes very afraid wife, and last night he took me to a place….without leaving the bedroom, that I did not expect!  After 24 years of marriage, he comes up fresh and new each day.  And full of love.

Lady Nyo…full of it this morning.

There’s a poem, written on the coattails of Dr. Singh’s beautiful first poem in his new book: “Sexless Solitude and other Poems”, I wrote last night. A poor answer to Dr. Singh’s lovely verse, but nonetheless, an attempt.  Which some nights are the only thing you can do: attempt.

Some Aberrant Thoughts

Sitting on a wooden Quaker bench,
The wood as hard as some of the hearts
That take ‘pride’ in their tolerance..
Ah, I am beginning to hate that word,
That single word, because there ain’t none.
The stiff necked brethren, and sisthern too,
Wear their spirituality like empty pearls around stiffer necks,
proud in a borrowed heritage that came to do good,
And did very well for themselves in Philly.

Sitting in silence is bearable,
it’s when they speak, not the popcorn messages,
that is tolerable, because it comes more from
spontaneous Spirit,
but these sonorous, drawn out,
perfectly enunciated vowels,
the ponderousness of it all.

I wonder what the God Vishnu would do here?
Would he jump up, and burst into flame?
Would he call in the elephants to stomp the
Professors flat?

Kali would lend some color to these
gray clothed worshipers.
Now she would not tolerate a false piety,
But would as she was known to do,
Run a path of death and destruction
through the middle of the Meeting,
and let them pick up their pieces.

And Shiva?
Once he bumped off the black
and heavy Kali shown standing on him?
Would he bring a particularly nasty Rise of the Meeting,
when all would shake hands
to those on the left and the right?
Or would the trickster be a Yamabushi Tengu
with a buzzer in his hand?

It boggles the mind,
but at least gets one through
the Meeting for Worship.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

“That was a buzz kill….”

or so I heard from a couple of people about “Metamorphosis”

…No, no, it really gets funny but you have to have the ‘murder most foul’ up front.

THEN the comedy starts…..silly Dominant Bat (Fruit Bat actually, and then a kajira bat….mouthy and so much smarter than the Dom… than

Well, we have to laugh sometimes.  And too  many people take themselves too damn seriously.  I know.

So #2 gets posted, because we all need laughter in this economy.

Also, my techie son and I are working on a podcast for this blog of some poems from “A Seasoning of Lust”…suggested by good friend and marvelous writer, RG.

(http://www.remittancegirl.com)  This is a blog really worth the effort of reading…everyday.

Lady Nyo

METAMORPHOSIS II

“Laura, come to bed!  What are you doing out there?”

Laura was doing nothing.  Just drinking tea and looking out the window, humming to herself.

She had lost weight, grown taciturn, seemed sexless.  Harold, confused, was getting on her last nerve.

Laura entered the bedroom. Harold, bald and boring, glared at her.

“What is wrong with you? Didn’t you hear me?”

*Oh yes, thought Laura.  Thirty years of marriage doesn’t stop up your ears, just your mouth. And your heart.*

Laura opened the closet to hang up her robe.  Inside, on a hanger, was a giant bat, it’s dull black wings wrapped tightly, hanging upside down.  Laura shoved it aside, looking for a hanger for her robe.  She got into bed and turned off the light.

The police looked at the carnage on the bed.  Blood everywhere, a real massacre. Something was wrong, damned if they could figure it out.  The wife, mute, had to be in shock. Weird batty woman.

Laura, her gown bloody, drinking tea, looked out the window.  Under the tree was a big dark man, standing with his arms wrapped around his chest. He looked up and nodded.

Laura smiled and winked.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2008, 2009