Poetry: Vol. 2 / 212.) The Trees Knew . . .

  

The trees knew...

Their watering streams

Had told them of it...

Brightness in the air above

And all around

Fragrant breaths in the low dew

Of the ground...

A brief turbulence in jars of nectar

Breaking out in sweetness

Passing beyond any prickling...

The sting of death swallowed up

In new liberty

What had not entered mind

Had entered spirit... and the sign

Melting in the sunlight...

Was pouring through the forest

Hints of it playing in the music

The streams had gathered from

The air, the dew, and the nectar

Watering the living trees

Teaching them knowledge

Infusing them with the hid wisdom

It had come... it was there...

But still they could not see it

                 *

A Book is like a Tranquil Stream

A book is like a tranquil stream 

   it has a kind of liquid life

Beside the inner watered willow trees

   that calms my soul

That bends around my growing stems

Though it take me savage in several places               

Falling through the loop                                   

As book streams do, in sudden turns

When taken from their natural course

   in limestone lands

They run in sunken caverns, broad

   in tunnels wide

Seeking there to challenge, keen

Though they be but pallid streams 

   that greet me:

Another’s sighted undercurrent, yet 

   alive with hidden lines 

      they touch my mind . . .

Poem from a Sequence:

A Rain of Booklight
Part 1  # 27

© Judith Evans Deverell, 2014

The Bookmark Project

A Book is like a hopeful Rainbow

A book is like a hopeful rainbow 

I take a turn and look around

And there a promise arc 

Of sudden colour:  . . .

Hope falling by me 

Through its gifted pages

Holding light for me 

As though through fire in rain

Its spirit streams are in 

Seven colours split

Its story, message, 

Its hope-filled teachings

All prismed light 

Caught alive in me:  . . .

Since first I glimpsed 

Its intriguing cover 

Quickly guessed in me 

Its depth, of hidden promise  

Poem from a Sequence:

A Rain of Booklight
Part 1  # 23

© Judith M. Evans Deverell, 2014

The Bookmark Project

I Turned the Page . . .

I turned the page and there before me an open door

Untainted more and more, the more I turned

Fresh velvet violets in sweet scented pools

The light revealed there

And forests further in, where I followed in further

I faced the page and there before me an open space

Unsealed more and more the harder I searched

Swift silver swallows in fast flighted wells

The glimpse concealed there   

And Everland beyond, where I walked in beyond

I read the page and there before me an open mind

Unfastened more and more the faster I went

Wisps and willows in long languid streams

The love outpoured there

And Heart’s Ease within, where I within I went

I held to the page and there before me an open heart

Overt more and more the surer I was

Vast treasured truths in kind captured books   

The distance travelled there

And Kingdoms further in, where I further ventured

I had wanted a gem and there before me an open bounty

Truth filled, and more and more, the more I ‘died’ there

Hope’s honeyed harvests in sap savoured rivers

And serenity inside, where I bathed in insides

The Saga of Amethyst Poetry / Part Four: A New Art

        If art went abstract, couldn't poetry? If some streams of art turned 'incomprehensible,' but not without a battle for acceptance first, should I wonder at or fear initial rejection? Although these 'poems' are not abstract - for like the inventive artist every line or brush stroke is full of known meaning - I suppose they might appear so, at first glance! But I had experienced that the heart 'rent in twain' could carry the mind's every finding further and deeper, and that it wasn't necessary for the outer parts of it to understand, in order to perceive light via the spirit.

      In joy and wonder I was shown that the primary purpose of these poems, is not that they be literally understood, but that they literally make us littler. For the littler we are the lighter we become; and the lighter we become the happier we are, which isn't by more, but by less.