Tag Archives: healing

April Poetry Month – A Poem a Day #4

I had planned to prepare a Shadorma for today’s poetry form, but the Universe had other ideas. My morning walk at dawn presented me with this astounding sight! A wisp of crescent moon flanked by two mourning doves on a wire. It took my breath away for a moment! The perfection…the beautiful symmetry and synchronicity of the moment. Of course I captured a simple photo of it with my handy mobile phone…see below.

But then I had to look up the symbolism of such an event. It seems that the Balsamic or Dark Moon and the Mourning Dove share common theme…to draw within, release, recharge and to surrender to healing, peace and harmony and to prepare for the hopeful promise of the future. Each represent a bridge as well: the moon, as last phase of the lunar cycle it is a bridge to the new dark moon energy that inspires us to dream as we head into the next cycle; and mourning doves, links between two world, sky and earth – thoughts, dreams, intuition and hearth, home, security. A brilliant message for me to embrace on a crisp spring morning, which of course I did!

But with two signs in one, a Shadorma, as wonderful as it is, just wouldn’t fully capture the magnificence of a chance encounter like this! No, an event like this required none other than a Cleave Poem!

Cleave Poem

In its most basic form a Cleave Poem is three poems:
~~two parallel ‘vertical’ poems (left and right)
~~a third ‘horizontal’ poem being the fusion of the vertical poems read together.

To read a Cleave poem simply:
1. Read the left hand poem as the first  poem.
2. Read the right hand poem as the second poem.
3. Read the whole (each line across) as a third integrated poem.

BalsamicMourning

Balsamic Mourning

Mourning doves have come to call | here at dawn the dark moon wanes
healing hovers on the cusp | urging me to draw within
each coo-coo, a song of peace | so to rest my weary soul
with a promise of renewal | bridging emptiness to full
sweet release from sorrows past | crescent dipping into new
time to weep, to let things go | suspended in cerulean blue
burdens of my heavy soul | soon to fade dispersed by light
so to spread my wings full flight | set upon its final path
soaring heaven on a breeze | three days journey to the end
miles to go before I sleep | ‘til the stars alone shine bright
grace abounds my soul to keep | blessings of the darkest night

kat ~ 4 April 2016


April Poetry Month – A Poem a Day #2

Today’s poetry form: Free Verse

* Free verse poems have no regular meter and rhythm.
* They do not follow a proper rhyme scheme as such; these poems do not have any set rules.
* This type of poem is based on normal pauses and natural rhythmical phrases as compared to the artificial constraints of normal poetry.
* It is also called vers libre which is a French word.

I often write free verse at 3 am mid-REM. This is one of those brain-flushing poems, particularly poignant for me. Free form is my raw unfettered side with no boundaries to keep me from spilling out. Its form title, “FREE Verse” echoes the soul of this particular piece. Both of my parents suffered from severe, undiagnosed, untreated mental illness. Each eventually ended their own life to silence the madness. I have chosen life. The lunacy stops with me. I am free.

Childhood Crazy

He was obsidian in a naugahyde recliner,
a red hot cigarette tip, heavy with ash, suspended in the blank space between us,
Inconsolable shell of burdensome flesh smoldering in silence,
clock ticking, refrigerator humming, faucet dripping,
Sepia Jesus scowling from the frame on the wall.

He was white deafening noise.
A dizzy streak of laser precision, constructing pyramids of tin,
preoccupied with aliens, reincarnation and escape plans,
dismantling, rebuilding, obsessing over the unfitted, left-over parts,
ever seeking the subtle smiling approval of happy, golden-haloed Jesus.

Terrifying and thrilling, monster and superhero,
doomsdayer, naysayer, cheerleader, dragonslayer,
fragile broken parent figure, angel, demon, candle burning at both ends.
A short-fused powder keg, self-combusting,
disillusioned by fickle wishy-washy Jesus, pulling a trigger to end the pain.

His poison festers in my cells, lethal shards of DNA,
catching waves of white and crimson coursing through my veins, settling in my brain.
A childhood refrain of mania to gloom, neglected, undiagnosed crazy.
Daddy, if we had only known, we might have saved you.
Consoled with pharmaceuticals, severing the chain…at least I can save myself.

kat ~ 2 Apri‪‪l 2016‬‬