JANE DICKSON ART
Mystical Spirit Studio
Food For Words
'Tis often said
that angst and anger,
heartbreak and sorrow
are good fodder
for the poet's pen.
But what of sunshine,
birdsong
and a lover's kiss
on Christmas morning?
Dec 2014
Poetry Not Prose
if when i go to write
it flows
more like poetry
than prose
do i embrace the wind and where
it blows?
if tales come easier
in rhyme
and feel more heaven sent
than mine
will you think that it's just silly
or sublime?
if my words come out
in measure
is it a gift for me to
treasure?
will it give the reader
pleasure?
or...
will the audience
just leave
feeling a little peeved
and think
the story is not mine but
one I weaved?
well the thing is that
it's true
yes writing verse is what
i do
so when the cadence comes i'll
not be blue
for another thing
is this
if the odes dried up
i'd miss
the passion and the pulse of them
...
..
.
.
word-bliss
Aug 2014
Ode To An Industry
She said, "it's dying slowly"
I say, " it's surely dead",
I'm standing at the gravesite
looking hopefully ahead.
The funeral rites are over
the mourners now disperse,
I stay because I'm waiting
for the next enlightened verse.
I notice that the elders
have taken prior leave,
I understand their longing
for a newer scene to believe.
For me there's bitter sweetness
a forsaking of my past, but
I ponder the big question
was it really meant to last?
Perhaps the word 'evolve'
is a better term to use,
for then, a lifetime's work
is not so hard to lose.
Jan 2014
Moon Dance Medicine
grief curls round me
again
blankets me
lighter than before
but still
heavy on my heart
or should i blame
resistance to the mystery
for cloaking me from life
winter sun shines
again
warming me
as bright as before
but still
darkness creeps in
around the edge
clouding my periphery
obscuring dreams not realized
full wolf moon comes
again
shines on me
a beacon as before
but still
i howl and weep
and bow and pray
requesting that the rhythm
transmute this ancient tune
i bless the dance
again
it mends me
and illuminates
and still
another layer sheds
to reveal
that mourning this transition
sets free the crone to shine
Jan 2013
Caravan of Masquerades
when they played
the long hymn of the festival
it was time for me to go
and so i stole away
by light of the full cold moon
with heavy heart yet nimble feet
i crept past lighted tents
their lamps flickering
pressing darkness outwards
through canvas walls
but secrets remained
curled round the throats
of those inside
threatening to extinguish
the life
of mortals unwilling or unable
to be true
to the voices
screaming from their souls
Nov 2012
The Candle Man
the candle man
the one with the oars
he touched my heart
like no one before
cheese and chocolate
roses and wine
treats in his pockets
our picnics were fine!
my Colombo act
his love of song
we couldn't imagine
anything wrong
often in shorts
cap for his crown
always upbeat
never seemed down
his big ol' truck
that rumbled and roared
was sweet to my ears
after our chores
fun in the gardens
tractor and all
dresses with names
i had to recall
out on the lake
i sat like a queen
we found faces
in everything green
a libra and sag
from different pasts
finding each other
and falling fast
a couple of days
was often too much
for us to wait
to see and touch
we both exclaimed
how lucky we felt
how blessed we were
this hand we were dealt
one bright afternoon
the trail we walked
for miles that day
we talked and talked
he asked the question
we made some plans
it was so exciting
we were mutual fans
scrabble and lager
fun-filled late nights
even while settling
dictionary rights
snacking and swilling
playing good tunes
from the very first note
i loved as he crooned
rigging and moving
long tarp in the gale
cracked rib and more
still we did prevail
but time was my rival
and not his best friend
tho' i believed at first
we could make it bend
then after a while
i just had to ask
was it really just time
i had to take to task
today at dawn
sad heart as i write
no easy answers
or clear inner sight
one thing i'll miss
ok, yes it's true
there isn't just one
there are quite a few
but holding hands
was especially sweet
in the land of nod
under sherpa's heat
it's patience i seek
a virtue to hone
and trust is another
so i put down the phone
questions remain
the ending must wait
until i'm more sure
of this story's fate
Nov 20/12
For A Laugh
an exchange with a funny man
HIM: Who does that date breaker think he is?
Go figure. There is no raisin-able explanation for this & this bad apple had better orange his day so he shows up on time.
ME: A laugh before brekky makes me as happy as I've ever bean. Olive my life I've hungered to make a mango head over peels for me. If you carrot all and don't want to squash your plan(tain) then I trust you will turnip on thyme. My heart beets for you...(and for winning our 4th scrabble game). Lettuce have fun endive in.
HIM: Puha!, I romaine unconvinced I'm in your league as you're quite savoy & cool as a cucumber.
Although, I yam greens with envy & think you're gherkin my chain, I'm going to jicama down & go for a pea, you know, a leek. Heavens to succotash,
it's thyme.(I know it's one of yours, peas don't be mad & I'll cress you later). I fear you'll cabbage on to me, grab me by the collard & artichoke this wee sprout, then I'd tell my mama, this broad's bean mean & wants to squash me. Mama will say if that Lady's finger as much as touches you, swede better watch out. Ackee kail sign off now, my sweet potato. Our future, asparagus, who can say. (asparagus, as-per-us, o.k. it's a bit of a stretch, not considered legit by one from Ontaro, ha,ha,ha.) This one really tickled my fennel bone.
ME: Omg, that is completely hilarious. So so funny.
This is your way of surrendering? I laughed till I split a side rib, but I don't want to grab you by the collard or the corn. I'd rather go bananas and kiss your tulips, and if we cantaloupe then I will be happy as a clam to milk this because you are a real peach.
I want you to know that if you are lost in a maize I will sea-kelp or if you are chili we can snuggle like two peas in a pod.
Halloween 2012
Questioning The Muse
I cried,
“The Muse has died!”
But is that true?
Written in the cards
if I could open wide
not run and hide?
I thought
I need a lot
but is that real?
Just one for everything
when what I got
was what I sought?
I yearn
to melt and burn
in arms so strong
that hold me dear
Enduring if I learn
or was I spurned?
I long
for that soft song
and scent that sparks
the fuel that creates
Is that so wrong
to want prolonged?
I said,
“The Muse has fled”
but I know this
It wasn’t just
inside my head
it was my heart that led
I fight
for more insight
from higher planes
and by the gate of grace
I wait for that sweet flight
to what feels right
I feel
murmurs of what’s real
Passion bubbles forth
when ego bids retreat
I bow and kneel
before gods of the Surreal
I see
glimmers of true me
and seek for peace
Knowing when I love what is
my heart is truly free
igniting creativity
Sep 2011
Killing Time
"Killing Time",
they say.
But I don't understand.
Kill Time?
Are you listening?
Do you hear the clock ticking?
Save Time, Spend Time, Enjoy Time.
Don't kill this precious gift.
"It's just an Illusion",
they say.
Really?
Tell that to him or her
whose Time has run out...
Illusion or reality?
Time is our master
or our servant
on this rolling home of ours.
Do not kill it
it will die soon enough.
Remember the power of your words.
Cherish, respect the passage of the hours.
Live Time
Sep 2009
On Your Golden Anniversary
For Mom and Dad's 50th Anniversary
December 12, 2003
Fifty years of being together!
Providing a home in all kinds of weather.
Lots of laughter and some tears too,
you've always been there to see us through.
Maybe not always what you thought it would be,
but I think that all three of us would agree
that wherever we go or how far we roam,
you two on The Farm will always be 'Home'.
Thank you for sharing your lives and your space,
for your wisdom and patience when things weren't in place!
For your guidance and strength, and your endurance too,
thanks for the memories we've made with you.
Thank you for offering a place to learn,
a place to grow, discover and discern;
a solid foundation to treasure and hold,
an accomplishment to be proud of, on this your Gold.
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