MY PATH

You say I am old
yes, son, I am old

you say my path is behind me:
lived, trodden, finished

yes, my past path is behind me
as yours is behind you

but my future path lies before me
as yours lies before you


long or short, it is mine to travel
mine to explore at my own pace
mine to see to its next bend
to its next fork
to its final gate

Yes, son, I am old
but I am not dead
I live, as you live

do not bury me while my path still lies before me.

                                           © John Ambury, 2012. All rights reserved.

April Forest: Derik Hawley and David Billings

April Forest

A tree in April is a splendid thing,

her boney branches fan out their design,

now free of winter snows for coming spring,

yet birds’ nests to her still are not assigned.

Lifeless she seems, yet within her sap

flows a hidden power we can’t see,

now she’s wakened from her frozen nap,

and thus her  promise: May days we’ll soon see!

But now she stands, devoid of foliage,

roots slowly suck ooze from the thawing ground,

such sweet long instants seem a privilege,

before the forests roar with leaf blown sound.

        The bones bloom tall as stark shadows contrast

        the spring buds which clothe bare Nature at last.

©  By David Billings All Rights Reserved April 7, 2012

Teepee Woman: Azhar Shemdin and John Ambury

TEEPEE WOMAN

From the mists that thread the trees

from the smoke of sweetgrass embers

from the earliest passed-down legends

came the ancient symbols

they appear and combine

separate and re-blend

shape-shifting

into forms that hold the world

patterns that explain the skies

solid as oak

fluid as water

ethereal as a dream

you know the mysteries, teepee woman

you see the meanings

you hear the answers

with my brittle, literal, civilized intelligence

I can barely think the questions

tell me what is real

teepee woman

                                        © John Ambury, 2012. All rights reserved.

(Inspired by the acrylic painting “Teepee woman and blue pyramid” by  Azhar Shemdin.)

John Pingree's Images

Images

Photos (in the blog order):

1. First night

  4. Next Day (a set, obviously)

2. Data transmission and storage

3. Connie's music

5. More than friends

6. Shadow land

7. Connection

8. Interlock

John Ambury's Poems

SPRING ON THE POND *   Animation suspended no life in snow the pond lies still   Just days from now this pond will teem with newborn beings to stock the world             with every species                         two by two in billions                                     the genesis of all existence   Today the pond lies still no life in snow animation suspended     * Impromptu verse inspired by the Japanese brush drawing of the same name by Baoxing Zhang. “Poetry In The Park,” Sovereign House (Oakville ON), 17 July 2011.                                                    © John Ambury, 2011. All rights reserved.   ----------------------------------------------------------------     HAIKU (Senryu), from Sets 3 and 4     The form           Haiku I am told           must not be given titles --           your indulgence, please     Absence           “I love you, miss you”           cold words freeze-dry on my screen           hot tears brim my eyes     Tsunami           Apocalypse now           forty days and nights of floods           how shall we still breathe?     Conversation           So she goes, D’uh, right?           I’m like, Tell me about it           she’s like, Just sayin’     Poetry           We do not make art           sky-thrown hearts fly back in words           poetry happens                                             © John Ambury, 2011. All rights reserved.

Grant's Poem

First Light

by

Grant Thompson

It was the season after the Hunter's moon,

On a dark and starry night,

Beneath the vault of sky, entombed,

Far from civilization's light.

Those then-young eyes sent their gaze aloft

Their first light yet to see.

They saw gossamer curtains of rippling hues,

And a faintly glowing bridge of stars, across a pitch black sea.

The  brilliant light of a thousand stars

Spread across the black,

There, far too many wonders for one

They knew they would be back.

Now, decades are gone yet

Older-eyes still come to see the sight.

But they need the help of memory's eye,

To recapture the vision of that first night.

When the old eyes finally close

And see with soul's  clear sight,

Then find me after the Hunter's moon

On a dark and starry night.

I'll wait beneath the vault of sky, entombed

Far from civilizations light.