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Bits of Poetry

~ Linda R Davis, Raven of Peace & Poetry

Bits of Poetry

Tag Archives: God

Let Me Be Like Water

19 Wednesday Oct 2022

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Death, Eternal, Eternity, God, Hope, Life, Lost, Love, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Powerful, Prayer, Soul Poetry, Souls, Spirit, The Universe, Unity, Water, Yearning

The way water comes

In many forms,

Lapping here, at my feet,

Or droplets, from a dark sky;

Let me be like water.

My father told me

God is like water:

Ice, steam, and ocean,

The way it evaporates

Then moves in clouds

To mountaintops,

Over and over.

Let me be eternal,

Like water.

Last night, I cried,

Tears of salt, and water,

They spilled out of my body

In waves, and clouds,

Emptying my grief

Into the great God

Of the helpless-lost.

I was poured out

Into some common,

Wet universe–universe–yes,

Let me be that vast,

Powerful transformation;

Let me be like water.

A Hideous Brightness

13 Sunday Jun 2021

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Belief, Death, Death Poems, drought, Dying, God, Heat, Hope, Horse Poem, Horse Poems, Horse poetry, Horses, Life, Loss, Love, Miracles, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Prayer, Sacred, Sun, Survival, weeds

Drought year,

Everything is dying early.

We realize what is hearty,

And what is not.

Weeds, they multiply,

Even after we spray,

As if they know,

This is their time.

They sink taproots,

And suckle what is left

Of underground aquifers.

We’re breaking heat records in June;

The sweltering, unrelenting sun

Is just getting started.

How many trips to the barn,

Down this cackling road?

The day I saw the barn cat

Kill father Robin–

It was an ominous sign

For the foal.

And then I succumbed

To this hackling cough.

Death is a time for prayer,

Calling out

for whatever hope God can spare.

Cries sent, not into a dark night,

But a hideous brightness.

The Virtue of Aspen

05 Saturday Jun 2021

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

aspen, Beauty, God, Hope, Infinite, Life, Love, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Souls, Unity

The virtue of aspen:

quake of leaves

in soft wind;

you see one tree,

friend,

look beneath,

it’s a family,

a colony

of roots and starts,

a community of rattling souls.

I imagine, if one is cut,

all else will shudder.

The Trillium in Gig Harbor

09 Saturday Mar 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Afterlife, Belief, Cedars, Death, Death Poems, Eternity, Flower Poetry, God, Hope, Infinite, Life, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Soul, Soul Poetry, Souls, Spirit, Spirits, Trillium, Truth, Unity, Women's Poems

O, Jamie, it’s beautiful—

everything is connected,

she said, before dying.

And Jamie thought of trillium

blossoming beneath musty cedar

at the edge of the sound,

the whole world epitomized

in heart of flowers,

and spirit of ancient,

mouldering trees.

A Miracle of Mended Bone

23 Saturday Feb 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Coffin Bone, Cowboy, Desperation, God, Gods, Horses, Lame, Miracles, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Prayer, Survival

If you don’t have a hoof,
you don’t have a horse
.
He was dead lame,
broken coffin bone,
leg extended out in pain,
as if imploring me to mend
his severed part.
Heart of my heart,
I can only offer prayer,
to the gods who love horses,
as much as we love gods to care.

The Day I Knew the Way

28 Friday Dec 2018

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Tags

Afterlife, Bird Poem, Bird Poems, Birds, Conversations With Maggie, Death, Death Poems, Dreams, Freedom, God, Happiness, Heaven, Hope, Infinite, Life, Love, Maggie, Memory, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Reality, Soul, Soul Poetry, Souls, Spirit, Spirits

it was a dream, and hard to tell

where borders and countries began,

but there was a dirt path,

and only I knew the way.

The dirt was soft, and the day

beautiful, I was barefoot

and running freer than ever I have

in wakened-life. It felt good

running in a warm sunshine,

ducking under the Velvet Mesquite,

with their canopies, their shade,

their branches, like open doors

to some better, magical place.

I liked the dream very much,

and could have kept running,

but I came to a lone house,

stark in the barren desert.

A blonde girl stood outside a fence,

scared and holding a gun,

and just like that,

I was shot in the arm.

I said it was a dream, didn’t I?

So, you won’t be surprised

I was impressed with her aim,

rather than the pain of being shot,

and I had to go pee.

I looked for a bathroom,

but had to wake to find one.

What is memory, I asked

later over coffee,

a little box in our brain,

a string of pictures?

How do we get there?

Memory is what we tell ourselves,

he said, about what we see

and what we feel.

You see, when Maggie died,

she passed into a prairie falcon,

she banged against windows,

day after day after day,

then left a last gift of quail,

and traveled the road of her happiness

to some place better than here.

Months later, the sun smiled,

and I ran on dirt, soft as baby powder,

passed through door after door,

on long, liquid legs, more of wing

than bone, and only I knew—

only I knew the way.

Prayers At Whitestone Rock 1

20 Thursday Sep 2018

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry, Uncategorized

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Tags

Bald Eagle, Baptism, Blue Heron, Columbia River, Forgiveness, God, Golden Eagle, Life, Nature, Osprey, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Prayer, Prayers At Whitestone Rock, Spirit, Whitestone Rock

Even the birds are drawn

to the face of Whitestone Rock:

Golden Eagle, Bald Eagle, Osprey,

and the Blue Heron,

with its long, liquid wings.

We are gathered in prayer,

trespasses forgiven, under the shade

of an eight hundred foot cliff.

Its granite face, bathed in wisdom,

looks down upon us;

give us this day, and forgive us.

Absolution comes swiftly,

because it was always there,

where the trout jump in celebration,

and feast on dragonflies, butterflies,

mosquitoes, and scraps of our bread.

The Columbia, whose waters never end,

like the reflection of our souls

naked and frail,

baptized in cold water,

as we float on our backs,

and look up at the altar.

Forgiveness

01 Sunday Apr 2018

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Tags

Bird Poem, Bird Poems, Birds, Easter, Forgiveness, God, Grace, Hope, Poem, Poems, Poetry

Spring arrives like forgiveness,

A plump bluebird bouncing

Along the railing of our deck,

The cry of killdeer nesting

Among buttercups and grass widow.

The earth is full of robins

And toad sound, dormant lawns

Starting to green and grow,

And something like wonder

Taking root in this wide-open world.

If Snow Could Form Into Tree

24 Saturday Feb 2018

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Tags

aspen, Aspen Colonies, Aspen Trees, Dreams, God, Mothers, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Shades of White, Spirits, The Perception of White, White, Winter poem

If snow could form into tree,

It would be the aspen.

Snow, one of a thousand

shades of white,

The perception of light and brightness–

And Spirits, rising up like like colonies,

Covered in it. The snow. This aspen.

Our hopes. Our dreams. The good dreams,

That is. The ones where fairy god mothers

Float down and save us.

Did you know, aspen bark heals?

They say it takes away pain–

Like a friend, a lover, my mother

rubbing my back until it burns.

And, like a child, that’s what I want it to be.

Yet, its naked trunk rises like winter–

So unafraid, so unalone,

So rigid, intractable and distant.

Yes, if snow could form into tree,

It would be the aspen,

And the cold, white stillness of what seems

A winter that won’t go away.

Oxygen

11 Thursday Dec 2014

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Tags

Afterlife, Creator, Dad, Death, Death Poems, End of Life, Faith, Father, God, Heaven, Hope, Losing Parents, Love, Oxygen, Parents, Poem, Poems, Poetry, pulmonary fibrosis

You’re not gone yet,
Or, are you,
Floating somewhere,
Possibly beside me here
as I write this poem, play this song.
Do you hear the music I hear—
Know my thoughts—
Feel what it is to be emptied?
The lungs close in on themselves
And all around us is less than we need—
Want—wish for—desperately fight to breathe.
Tell me there’s an afterlife,
A place where you’ll wait,
All things separated, rejoined,
The things we can feel,
And the things we believe are here,
Even when we cannot see.

Dare To Get Wet

30 Tuesday Sep 2014

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Tags

Authenticity, Belief, Courage, Death, Fear, God, Infinite, Life, Nature, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Rain

there is a reason

being in nature

makes us healthy

we find the infinite

under trees and clouds and sun

the rain wetting our skin

in that moment we don’t worry

about getting wet

belief is found

courage is found

River Gods

03 Wednesday Sep 2014

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Tags

Courage, Dry Salvages, Four Quartets, God, Horses, Lonliness, Osprey, Poem, Poems, Poetry, River, Rivers, Spokane, Spokane River, T.S. Eliot

     I do not know much about gods;  

     but I think that the river

     Is a strong brown god –

     sullen, untamed and intractable.

T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets: Dry Salvages

 

Nothing makes you feel more alone–

Yesterday’s twenty miles of river

Calculated today, a lifetime.

The hunting bird, you said eagle,

Then, you said Osprey,

It was an Osprey.

Great beautiful white-winged thing

Hunting the Spokane River

For the one that jumps too high,

Makes itself too known,

Dares to release itself

From the swelling under-swell.

 

Listen to T.S. Eliot read Four Quartets.

Dreams of Storms and Geese

13 Wednesday Aug 2014

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Tags

Bird Poem, Bird Poems, Bird Poetry, Bits, Canada Geese, Death Poems, Dreams, God, Life, Mental Health, Poem, Poems, Robin Williams, Suicide, Suicide Poetry, Thoughts

The storm came, like so many storms,
More dark, more swift, more rain.
Before that, the first migration,
Canada Geese in mid-August clouds.
I wonder if nature follows news
Or news follows nature.
We quiver with uncertainty,
Our frail choices to live boldly.
Etta says, We get on our knees,
Pray for help, sometimes we gotta,
Just help ourselves.
But it’s hard missing,
Each one gone too early,
Disappeared into our dreams.
He’s an old man, he’s crying,
It scares me. Am I scared
Or sad, or terrified?
He’s an old man, he’s crying.
Says his brother stole his–
He says, his inheritance.
He’s an old man, for god’s sake.
Does it ever get easier?
And when did I start to envy geese?
September fifteenth, two thousand one.
When they fly by, I escape.
When they honk, I worship.
I think that’s what I wish I was–
As buoyed, as certain, as free.
This is what he said,
Before he was gone,
But only in their dreams
can men be truly free.
It was always thus
and always thus will be.
Why are we so afraid of leaving?
It’s much worse to be left.
We don’t know; we’ll never know.
The storm came, faster than we knew.
It did things, storms don’t usually do.

Sacred Moments

15 Tuesday Jul 2014

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Tags

Bird Poem, God, Hummingbird, Hummingbird Poem, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sacred, Soul, Soul Poetry, Spirit

Once, and only once,
I felt a swift beauty–
A flutter, a whisper of wing
Against my bare arm.
I sat alone, encircled
By sunshine and cigar,
The beating of wing upon skin
And the bird, no bigger
Than a honey bee, a butterfly–
A hummingbird mistaken of me,
As I of him.
He danced, suspended,
Hovered over white petunias
Like spirit, or all of spirit
I wanted to know:
No maxims, no morals,
Only something as profound
As God, as miraculous,
As if he’d spoken,
Or moved the pencil
I’d dared him to move.
I sat for a while, still,
Hoping he would come again.
He didn’t.
Because that’s life, isn’t it?
An eternal flight of song–
A brief touch of this or that thing,
Sacred moments–
Out of our control.

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Death Death Poems Dying Hope Horses Life Loss Love Poem Poems Poetry Soul Souls Spirit Survival Yearning

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