Read this poem about survival instinct morphing into greed at the site below:
Book Review by C.D.Moore
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
Excerpted from,” Re- Entering the Womb of the Goddess”
A book of poems and paintings
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 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 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
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,
Life pulses out from that.
I lift my finger and displace the air.
Are the ripples felt throughout the universe?
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 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)
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
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.
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
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
A book review of ,”Falling Into Grace,” by Adyashanti
(contains video interview of Adya with Oprah)
To read Click Here
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