An old gate stands

With no fence attached

As if it could fool anyone

Ah, but how many times

Have I been fooled

Thinking there was a fence

Where there was none

All the fences in my mind

Keep me from knowing who I am

Let me be a flowing field

Open to all possibilities

Wild flowers, weeds

The wolf and the wild deer

Let the gate to my heart

Be everywhere

Excerpted from,” Re- Entering the Womb of the Goddess”

A book of poems and paintings

Available at Amazon.com

The Sun is Inside Me




The sun is inside me

Though I’ve built a wall around it

Each brick of cold, condensed fear

Prevents the warmth from reaching my awareness

As I search outward for something lost

Denying the wall is there


I snatch what warmth I can from strangers

Share their fire for a while

Believing I have none


The fires of strangers flame and die

Flame and die

I wander from one to the other

Gradually losing hope that what I seek

Will ever be found or defined by another


The only path left is on the inside

There is work to do

Remove the wall brick by brick

Tear by tear

And have faith

That the sun is inside me


(from the poetry book:Re-entering the Womb the Goddess by Kamala Moore)

–She Began




She began to wear the colours of the sea;

aquamarine, emerald, and turquoise.

She began to dream about the sea and its creatures.

In one she saw a huge white shape in the shallows.

A benign presence she thought,

possibly a Beluga.

She felt drawn to place her hand on its immense back;

to trust it to lead her.

She was tired of leading herself.

In that moment, the sea opened like gigantic flower;

its throat , the curl of a wave, a living tunnel of light.

The vortex pulled her spirit toward it;

her body trembled.

Should she trust the creature to guide her;

or should she build a raft of words as she had many times before;

to keep from being impelled through

the aquamarine, emerald and turquoise,

into the indigo.


(published in ,”Island Writer Magazine” December, 2010)

copyright by Kamala Moore 2010

– Beautiful Loon

Beautiful loon on the moss green lake;

your call is the voice of my solitude,

bringing me back to myself.

My mind says the earth is in danger;

but in this moment, my heart knows

everything is perfect as the spiral

a jumping fish leaves behind.

(From the book, “Re-entering the Womb of the Goddess,”

copyright 2007 by Kamala Moore)

-In the middle of a field….

In the middle of a field

a Monarch butterfly sits on a clover

opening and closing its wings,

swaying the clover which hits the next one,

which hits the next one,

and so on and so on ,

till the whole field is in motion.

The center is everywhere,

they say.

Life pulses out from that.

I lift my finger and displace the air.

Are the ripples felt throughout the universe?

One verse

and if I change a syllable

the whole poem changes.

(excerpted from, Re-entering the Womb of the Goddess, by Kamala Moore )

copyright by Kamala Moore 2007


— When We Finally Know




When we finally know we’re enough,

when we have enough, do enough, are enough,

when our being is enough,

when what we want most is found in the stillness,

the wholeness inside;


Then what we need will come to us

without effort or struggle,

without violence, without grasping,

gently as the rain falls from the sky,

as easily as breathing,

giving and receiving

in the natural cycle of living things.

We need not fear.

What is empty will be filled.

And what is full will be emptied

only to be filled again.


On that day the earth

will begin to green again

And the whales will sleep peacefully

in the deep.



Then the  children will dream of tomorrow;

When we finally know we’re enough.



When we finally come to know our own being,

and cease to grasp for things to make us whole,

Then our beauty will be reflected in the waters,

the air will sparkle with health giving energy,

and the herons will return to the marshes

when we finally know we’re enough.




(copyright 2010 Kamala Moore)




The Baseball Game


A baseball game

All the neighbourhood kids gathered in the yard

Laughing and shrieking as we jostled to reach the highest place on the bat

Batter up!


Then the voice of our father calling us in

” You don’t have to always be first, “he scolded.

“It’s only a game,” countered our mother.

And to us, ” You don’t have to be last either.”

Then they sent us out again

Not knowing where to stand

Allowed ourselves to be pushed to the back

Standing in the outfield

It wasn’t a game any longer.


Now I am old

First or last or in between

I know it doesn’t matter

I sit and watch leafy shadows play , a patch of sun

Which slides across the floor

Such is life

The truth hard-won

Then why be sad to find no meaning there

Only momentary beauty

The heart’s allotted share.

The Vacant Lot


All around the city thrums and hums

But here a peaceful acre is

Forgotten in the rushing stream of time

Stilled here, as in a dream


A circle where the grasses stand

Their seedy heads bend in the wind

And here and there a dahlia grows

 To show an ancient gardener once worked here

And tended this, once cultivated plot

Now nature is reclaiming and seeding as she will

With dandelion and wild asters


Around the plot the tall oaks brood

Giving their acorns to the ground

The grey squirrels happily search and find

Gathering  their winter food


Once in this place a house did stand

A family lived and called it home

Now shadows fall on cement stairs

That climb toward an absent door

And now the door is everywhere


A Perfect Day


The sun is shining

The birds are singing

The flowers swing in their baskets , gay

The wind chimes tinkle a peaceful tune

As the breeze with the foliage plays

The clouds float by in the bluest of skies

The grasses sway gracefully

With their burden of seed they are heavily weighed

Ready to fly away

What could be wrong with a day like this?

Though I know there are wars and strife

On a day like this it’s hard to imagine some struggle for their life

And it doesn’t help if those who are well

Start feeling like they have sinned

If they turn out their light in sympathy

Everyone’s light goes dim

So I’ll not feel guilty for enjoying this day

And I ‘ll offer  a prayer of thanksgiving

May this perfect moment extend without end

Round the world and be felt as a blessing



Raptor, the sound of the word evokes
An image so majestic, so precise, so dangerous
Like the blade of a knife falling through the air
Slicing the water
To grasp a silver fish in terrible talons
To feed then fly
To relieve his mate who sits through rain and heat
Protecting their precious brown and white speckled eggs
There she sits searching the sky for his return
Then suddenly ,he alights upon the nest
Her lifelong love
They pause a while and cry to each other
Then she is released to fly and fish for her supper
He re-arranges a twig here and there
Turns the eggs
Then settles in their lofty nest
And begins his watch for her return