Ashley Pinkerton

Spiraling Forward

Let the dance of the sacred Spiral carry you on a journey through the cycles of Life.

Ashley Pinkerton

This is an invitation to support Ashley Pinkerton and Poetic Matrix Press in publishing her new book Spiraling Forward. Check out her Indiegogo campaign page, see what she is about and contribute to help this project.  Go to:

https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/spiraling-forward#/

“Spiraling Forward will take the reader on a journey through the cycles of Life, as the dance of the sacred Spiral carries the reader to places of deep reflection, realization and discovery.”

Sandeep Kumar Mishra, India

Morning

Reluctant night after a brooding duty, slowly retreating

The earth in gray, some dim shades still hovering

Dawn strides out leisurely to wake every farm

The sleepy sun, in liquid light, making the sand warm

Morning nymph rising from the ocean of pearls

Wearing magic mist mantle if the wind swirls

Her gleaming bracelet borrowed from the sun rays

Swiftly up to the hilltop her glory sways

Her fragrance wakes up the slumbers of mortals

The crowing birds but break the silence acetals

I am eager to rise early than the bee,

Perhaps to feel the divine power if it be

Every home kindles its necessary fires

Sense morning incense, listen far sounding lyres

The soul feels fresh and rejuvenated

Healing light exhaled here, a divine incarnated

The bunches of roses, lily awaken

The wind hides in the trees, make them shaken

Shy maid advances with pitcher to fill in river

The peasants and herdsmen on their way as ever

All creatures must toilsome courses run hard

Because untrodden the path, bright is the reward

 

My City

My city has dazzling appearance

Its days are sweating labours

The nights are stiffly precarious

Malls, palaces, shops, skyscrapers

All things are but only a granite museum

People came from unknown places

Growing day by day like a mushroom

Horns, siren, music, pollution, buzz, silence

It never stops but crawl like a worm

Ten to five, nonstop work culture

To live here to live on term

Race to stay alive, no stop for nature

Morning walker and evening walker

As late sleepers, late risers, all machine made

Sofa, carpet, TV, air conditioner

There is light but no relief or shade

High ways are death ride way

I strive for a peaceful lee

Has city ruined me in any way?

No, it has marred better men than me

I stand alone amid a millions crowd

God was silent when I was suffering fast

I am ready to die unnoticed, but

I will build a new city before I breathe last

 

Romantic Dream

My love! My dream girl! Come with me,

We will go over the lea, beyond the sea.

Let’s build a palace among the stars

Far away from earthly strife and wars,

Look our rainbow friends -white rivers,

Slaty mountains, red roses, brown sparrows,

Bright glow worms, golden eagles, black bees,

Yellow sunflowers, scarlet macaw, green trees.

Showers drench the morning, nights glow with dew

Posy noon to dose, then evening linnets in the view,

Winter with warm sun, summer of moonlit nights,

I admire thy grace, your touch diminish all my frights.

When your shiny raven hair shade my head,

I repose in your lap, Night comes, and day becomes fade.

Your smiling glance and hazel eyes keep me at ease,

We will love till there are the seas and the skies.

 

Sandeep Kumar Mishra, India

BIO- He is a stage artist, painter, writer and a lecturer in English with Masters in English Literature and Political Science. He is in creative field since 1992 and has published poems both in Hindi and English languages. His first article published in 1992, first poem in 2003.He also worked as Sub-editor for a collection of poems (Pearls) 2003,which have many reputed poets

 

Clifford Browder

Use This Day

Use this day
For love, for friendship, for rage,
For justice, for hope,
For worship, if your gods are worthy of it.
Use it
To build, to create,
To bring meaning,
To fight the void and navigate the flux.
Don’t shirk, don’t slouch.
Use it.
It will never come again.

 

Earth

I love the smell of it
The black oozy thick of it
Wormy and rich
Harboring seeds and roots and bones
Graveyards and spores
In my next existence I will grow things
Coax them out of her hot muggy thighs
Into joy and exuberance
Into sustenance and life.

Of the other elements
I can’t relate to air
Too flimsy, too vague
And I’m scared of fire
That leaps and darts and scorches
Having seen whole buildings
Flame up in a blaze
And know that water wants to drown me
Learning to swim
I splashed and sputtered, hated it
And once saw the body of a woman
Washed up on the shore of a lake
So lost, so cold, so still.

Yes, I’ll stick with earth
Don’t think
You can wiggle out of the Old Girl’s embrace
You cannot
She’s in your blood and bone
We came out of her
We’ll go back into her
The vast, messy, loving
Ruthless and inescapable
Big Mama of us all.

 

My Wild, My Calm

There’s something wild in me
That wants to shake things up
A demonic spring that wants to pump
The green fire of his seed
Into multitudes of rapturous virgins
Who wants to break windows of snug little homes
To shout, to run, to fly
To leap over gaping chasms
And scale vertiginous cliffs
Who wants to slay dragons or better still become one
Who wants to eat rare earths, speak in tongues
And annex the secrets of the universe.

There’s something calm in me
That smiles at my demon
Like a loving mother
At the antics of her raucous little boy,
A seeker who needs no
Rare earths, strange tongues, gaping chasms
Who walks gently, looks and listens
Finds wisdom in silence
Strength in grasses
Truth in trees
Who relaxes into the rhythms
The mysteries
And daily ecstasies of life.

 

Love Better, Love Deeper

Love better, love deeper.
Cut the frills,
The gaudy promises, the tinsel.

The best love is simple, quiet, undemanding
Like a mountain or a seed.

Its beauty lies under the surface
Like a submarine reef of red coral
Jutting spires and candelabras
While blue fish drift and dart.

The best love grows silently
Like mushrooms in the woods,
Like ferns, like roots
And blooms mysteriously
Like white flowers opening in the night.

The best love thrives
Where least expected
Like green sprouts
In the rotten wood of piers
Or molds on ancient stumps.

Though it toughens with time, in the beginning
It is soft, not hard and jagged,
Easily hurt.

When you love,
Love with caution and quiet,
With wisdom, no razzmatazz.
Love with calm and care.

 

Sadness

Sadness
Is the adagios and mellow gray of twilight
A loving touch.

I have seen it
In smiles of resignation
In muted yearnings for the unattainable
In shattered loves, futile hopes, quiet defeats
Final good-byes.

It is the landscape of our living
Time’s music
The price of our awareness of transience.
Don’t fight it, accept it
Ease into it, I’d almost say
Enjoy it.
It is our essence, our aura
The mark of our humanity
The measure of our loss.

 

Clifford Browder

Bio: I am a writer living in New York City. I have published two biographies, a novel, and a selection of posts from my blog (see link below) that has won two awards. My poetry has appeared in numerous small reviews. cliffbrowder@verizon.net

 

 

The Bay Area Bookfair

 

BABF

 

Here is our table at The Bay Area Bookfair in Berkeley this past weekend (June 4 & 5). The weather was beautiful and I met many good people.  Grace Grafton, Gail & Charles Entrekin came by as did Devon and Catherine.  It was a good 2 days.

Gail recently won first place in the Women’s National Book Association awards for “Before Making Love” from The Art of Healing and was interviews on PBS Newshour. Read here.

The Art of Healing got a nice intro by Judy Woodruff.

Many folks came by all weekend to send blessings to Francisco.