Upper Left Edge

a small paper for a small planet

  • Sign In
  • About Us
    • Welcome
    • History
  • The Edge in Print
  • Writers
  • Links
  • Contact
  • Support
    • Underwrite
  • Tides
  • Categories
    • Art
    • Photography
    • Books
    • Culture
    • Healing
    • Spirit
    • Entertainment
    • Food
    • Happenings
    • Movies
    • Song and Dance
    • Television
    • Fiction
    • Nature
    • Plant Medicine
    • Poetry
    • Politics

Untitled Moments

May 4, 2012 by Ms. Stumbleine 1 Comment

I

She runs like the river after the April rains,
Over flowing. Ever ebbing. Pushing, pushing,
through the wet, leaching mud; with each step,
It sucks saturated (in) sanity (in), leaving her with
Nothing. For naught.

She sobs like the storm clouds,
Loudly. Never ending. Rocking, rocking,
in the wash of the open faced, omniscient moon; with each tear,
it magnifies her (un) placed (un) heavenly beauty, reminding the God of
Eternity. For only a moment.

She breathed fire, like the sun,
Through all known time. Continuous, yet
transitory, but never fearing what was to come, or
Longing for what was; with each breath,
she gained peace with interconnectivity, with self, giving her
Freedom.

 

II

She grasped at the limelight;
Climbing, clawing, clutching, cloistering nothing,
But giving up all that kept her “self,” from running away from itself.

* * * * *
She inhaled the promises;
Swearing, sweating, swilling, sweltering sex,
And justification wore many pretty masks.

* * * * *
She arose, awakened;
Without shame, fear, regret, or attachment,
She walked with surety,
Having shed those emperor’s clothes.

Filed Under: Poetry, ULE, Uncategorized

Comments

  1. Watt Childress says

    May 4, 2012 at 9:18 am

    Reading these beautiful poems recalled one of my all-time favorite songs — “She” by Holly Near (with John McCutcheon on banjo). Searching for that song led me to this link. The drumming is amazing.

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oda_T-eYcxc

    I’m also grateful for your poetry as a work of art unto itself, in need of no comparisons.

    Reply

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

More Gleanings

Here Try Some of This Ointment

April 17, 2024 By Watt Childress 4 Comments

We are the Luminaries

August 8, 2023 By Watt Childress 2 Comments

Open Letter for Creation’s Caregivers

June 19, 2023 By Watt Childress 5 Comments

My November 2022 Ballot Choices

November 6, 2022 By Rabbi Bob 1 Comment

One Cup of Tea

November 15, 2020 By Lila Danielle 1 Comment

Additional Wisdom...

Readers’ Comments

  • Watt Childress April 28, 2025 at 11:48 am on Uncle Zech’s Amphibious GestaltAlso, you inspired me to insert a sentence crediting Hoyt Axton with the song's genesis. Many thanks!
  • Watt Childress April 27, 2025 at 10:55 pm on Uncle Zech’s Amphibious GestaltThank you kindly Jim for reading this and commenting. I enjoyed your review of "Sun House" by David James Duncan,
  • Jim Stewart April 27, 2025 at 8:26 pm on Uncle Zech’s Amphibious GestaltNice! Hoyt Axton wrote the Jeremiah song and sang it with great gusto. Life wanders on and I'm still glad
  • Watt Childress April 26, 2025 at 3:51 pm on Uncle Zech’s Amphibious GestaltDuring spring I think of you, and all the May Pole celebrations you've organized over the years. So grateful for
  • Watt Childress April 26, 2025 at 3:18 pm on Uncle Zech’s Amphibious GestaltIn my dreams I sing to the multitudes, with a voice as clear and sweet and churchy as Lou Reed.
More Comments...

Confessional (archive)

Come into The Confessional -- view the former Upper Left Edge forum entries.

Pages

Home | Contact | Advertise | Underwrite | The Confessional | Welcome | History | User Agreement | Privacy Policy

Post Categories

Archives on the Edge

Upper Left Edge

P.O. Box 1096
Cannon Beach, OR 97110

Send an e-mail

© 2012–2025  Upper Left Edge