“Once Every Century”

PLEASE feel free to comment. Thank you for time. Deborah

I feel like a cactus, nothing becoming,

Nothing to take a picture of and frame.

Another of “the same” down the desert edge of

A road, a rhetoric--

Surviving from water stored deep inside,

Too deep for eyes or hands to claim.

I’ve yet to be set apart as a “rare specie,”

A bit enigmatic—

The sun rising, glowing, on me sleeping

While seasons pass. Stars like saints,

Clumps of twisted tumbling roots scattered

Each emphatic—

I identify with this moment, the toiling

Of barrenness. I cannot in color paint.

What time has set as my destiny

Before the cataclysmic

Birth of a heavenward limb, a stretching

Beauty this soul has in constraints,

And cause awe I believe lies within

My dry semantics

Should I trust in God’s hushed promptings?

This obvious inactivity till I crane

And like the first morning at Eden

Bloom like the Century cactus!

READ MORE ON THE AGAVE AMERICAN PLANT, IT ONLY BLOOMS ONCE IN ITS EXISTENCE, EVERY HUNDRED YEARS AND THEN DIES.

“The Exchange”

PLEASE feel free to comment. Thank you for time. Deborah

June 21, 2011

Oh, the exhaustive lift of steel,

Alloys,

Metals of marvelous  strength,

Every element rejected

By it’s composition

And perfect precision!

Not another fashioned quite the same

By it’s creator.

It’s taken me so long to seal

Chink’s ploy

And temper every divisive bend,

Every hidden sin that infested.

Under fire’s condition

Till this fitted rendition.

Years of learnt yielding drained

Soul’s many traitors.

I await for this necessary shield

To cloy

In supernal light’s perfect wisdom

Each day’s evil dart deflected.

That each effort of Perdition

Be crushed at Resurrection,

When I exchange this mortal strain

For robes in likeness of my Maker!

“I’m Not Dead , Only Waiting to Sing”

PLEASE feel free to comment. Thank you for time. Deborah

“I’m Not Dead , Only Waiting to Sing”

(Dedicated to my friend Belle)

Help me with my un-perceived progress

I stand still, everything around me sweeping

Like a Kansas tornado.

So many voices within, held down and pressed,

It scares me to hear such a composing

Of songs I alone know

I pan for gold but all I’m left with is dirt,

Years are one Day to eternity’s mathematics

And yet, You see gold today.

I must be blind by mortality’s mud and hurt

Or reality’s crush and deafening static,

All that must with time decay.

What is hidden can always be found

If the search is sincere and I keep my heart,

If the mists are under my feet

The treasure is on sacred, holy ground

Along the stream of light that favors a lark

At sun’s turned up face in peace.

It’s all so momentary!  A second estate.

This reflection must be beautiful in Faith’s eye

To desire its restoration.

I am so far from that image with no age

That design held in reserve by Wisdom’s height

To my purpose and creation.

I still sing in spite, there must be a reason.

The panning continues under the cold and heat

And I still hope despite the awaiting grave.

The songs of glory may be locked at this season,

And what earth holds at bay will be released

When the call comes to awake

Gold shall be Love’s possession at last

After the sweat of brow, the briars and thistles

I will unfold my soul’s clasped wings,

Every note will kiss Life as I wildly laugh

This dream away, shaking off my fears needles

A TIMELY WAITING



And meet myself after all these things.

DESINO EN UNA OLA AZUL”

PLEASE feel free to comment. Thank you for time. Deborah

TE BUSCO Y NO TE ENCUENTRO

Y A VEZ TODO ALRREDEDOR ME MIRAN TUS OJOS,

ESCUADRINANDOME DESDE SECRETO.

POR UN VELO DE SEDA TE TOCO, PALPEO

AQUEL LATIR QUE RESONDA SIEMPRE CONTIGO,

SIEMPRE CONTIGO, CONTIGO!

TUS ALAS ME RECOJEN, LEVANTAN, ROCIANDO

MI FRIO CON TU MURMULLO DE FUEGO Y SUSPIRO.

?COMO, EXPLICAME ESTE ESTREMEDOR MISTERIO

COMO LA OLA QUE DESTRUYE O LLEVA A UN DESTINO?

VIENES, VA, FUERTE, LIJERO, Y TORMENTA ESCONDIDA

GIRANDOME Y ALEJANDOME DE ESTE MUNDO

COMO UN PLUMAJE CON TU SOPLO!

UN TEMOR ACOJEDOR Y DULCE CANTO, CAMPANIANDO

DE UN ETERNO CIELO QUE SOLO SE ESCUCHA AL QUIETO

CANSASIO DE AMAR A UNO, UNO HECHO DE SOL,TIERRA Y HUESO.

!CIERRAME LOS OJOS CON TU SUSURROS!

APLACAME PERO DEJAME VOLAR, QUEMAR EN TU CIELO

COMO ESTRELLA Y ASTRO ESCONDIDO !

AY, SI ESTA MUJER PUDIERA SER SOLO UN VIENTO

CORRIERA A TUS FIEBRENTES LABIOS ENROJECIDOS

Y TOMARIA DE SU ULTIMO Y MAS GRANDE DESTINO.

“BLINDING ICE”

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I tried in every which way, in every subtle difference,

Texture and canvas,  hue, shade, and color

Nuance; the oil, and black on white inference...

I have haunted myself into a pink shell of pathos

Wonderings, designing reasons on paper

That through some perceptible or hidden ethos

                                        I would be less guilty of blame

--for the lack of celestial light.

I believingly deemed my schemes and themes

Were either too vulgar or in disproportion

To your eye of my resurging love---unparalleled greens.

Like a lunitic I traced and raced to disclose and unguise,

The beating muscle and pulsing burning veins

Beneath the soul of my brush strokes and strikes!

                                    Until the didactic revelation frame,

 —Love cannot paint on ice.

“What We Two Alone Can See”

PLEASE feel free to comment. Thank you for time. Deborah

Is a love poem necessary

Between you and I

After all I see when you look at me

Or all you hold looking in my eyes?

Maybe Barrett would say it best:

“How do I love thee...”

A Dickenson, Rossetti or Nin,

But they know not your heart’s beat.

So many lyrics, novels, praised hymns

Could speak my devotion.

But, never the prayer I whisper low

At sunrise and dusk’s pink in adoration.

I know Love writes its own,

A language only two can read

Between lines, in the holy silences;

A kiss bears no Shakespeare could verse.

We need no road map or compass

Our path is led hand in hand,

God has our perfect destined end

As reward for two, this eve and adam.

When I no longer sit by your side

And this bed holds me no longer,

My tears will mingle with yours,

Always knowing eternity holds no hours.

To many there was a seen start.

A beginning assessed as impossible

Wrong, flawed, with broken hearts

    for last page to our book’s final toll.

 We both have clung to what few

On this battlefield have dodged,

Raised our heads unashamed of whispers

Common and likely to crush.

Yet, what makes a love poem, Sonnet,

Or book worth the reading but LOVE

In all its shades and seasons that

Promise that will never  turn to rust.

“Conferring With An Astro”

PLEASE feel free to comment. Thank you for time. Deborah

Asked the white, clean, virgin swan

To the moving-less seasoned moon,

“am I that worthy of having such divine

heavenly flower as my follower?

“I but glide almost without notice

As though I were in pose, I stealthily

Disappear until some glimmer catches

Eye, mingling with sky, breeze, and water.”

Answered the Spotlight above her,

“I see you are but one in this pond,

Endlessly sliding invisibly, a sigh,

An enigma, an alphabet all your own,

A ballet, a composition God alone as Composer;

Have you not perceived your composite

And grace, a testimony of heaven?

I am dimmed by your wistfulness, what

Mystery God meant to give a lexigrapher!”

The streaming silver diluted at her snow

Blanch feathered body as shivering

Dew spun about her silence, a rose fallen

From a cupid’s crown, a Spring shower.

Her alienation was her coveted desire to Moon,

Stars and unseen universe, all bent

Reverently as she glossed across each ripple,

Focused on the glass of pond’s shimmer..

“Here, pulling a winter plume from her side,

“this may brush across your beautiful face

of glory,” her lilt lifted the weightless gift

In a swirl by the North until vanishing

Behind clouds and the zenith of jasmine’s whisper.

“It is the caress Divinity bestowed on me,

For I do not sing or color a garden in awe

Like the peacock or enrapture a lover’s heart.

I gather only a poet’s need to sit as a dreamer.”

Answered the midnight vesper,

“Dreams are soul’s ideals that are coined,

The hinge of believers for eternity!

A lover could not kiss or poet pen in prose

An Eden if you had not been Vision’s scripture.

“Look at your reflection, he swelled in full

Like white-hot fire down as she heaved

In wonderment, quivering with tears of memory,

“You are Woman, the nova to mankind

God gave for Earth’s joy and balm for the Future!”