Desert People

Sun seems to balance on the sharp spines of saguaros
before sinking to earth as though pierced.
          His life-blood spills on the western horizon.
Crimson and fire splash across the heavens--
a flash of glory that soon will fade.


Darkness now gathers and covers day's sorrows,
its thick scattering of stars,
          like polished shell-beads on a blanket.
Owl calls, coyote cries out as night falls
silent and cold in the depths of earth's shade.


Moon rises. Like the shaman, she comes to heal.
The mystery of her ways are revered and feared
          by Ancient Hohokam and Tohono O'oodham
and all desert people who watch, wait, and listen
for holy things the desert will reveal.

Bonnie Hamilton Beuning

© April 2015 revised July 2015

I thought I could wait until November to post this.  November is Native American Heritage Month, although most of us don't see that on our calendars.  I decided to post it today for two reasons: 1) it's one of those poems that asks for improvement each time I see it, yet my revised versions are usually no better, and get changed back to my original, more impromptu thoughts; 2) during these hot days on the Great Plains, I long for the cooling of the Sonoran desert sunsets, and the cool dark nights below the stars that can steal all memory of the blazing heat of day.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.  

--BonnieB

Prayer of Peace

Peace before us,

            Peace behind us,

            Peace under our feet.

Peace within us,

            Peace over us,

            Let all around us be peace.

Christ before us,

            Christ behind us,

            Christ under our feet.

Christ within us,

            Christ over us,

            Let all around us be Christ.

—based on a Navaho prayer, David Haas

About the photo:  I looked long and hard for an image to post with the poem. I know I've photographed similar scenes many times, but not with great skill.  This image was listed on the web under "free images" and other than that, I couldn't find where to get permission, in case it is indeed copyrighted.  I love giving credit to photographers and artists, and links to their work when its possible.  

SPLASHES OF LIGHT

I hope you enjoy this poem by Stanley Kunitz which was included on Terry Hershey's "Sabbath Moments."  If you do any descriptive journaling or attempt poetry as I do, you may see yourself in it. 

It's thrilling to capture lovely words, maybe even lines of verse while surrounded by nature's beauty, feeling mysteriously connected to true reality.  But more often, I end up in a small, messy, and viewless room with the computer. There I assemble those vivid impressions and feelings before they're forgotten in the day's inevitable, mundane busyness.

As much as I love to write, days come and go without compulsion or ability to do it.  That's a blessing, too.  Words still weave in and out of thoughts and joys experienced in unexpected sacred moments, but remain internal and private.  It's as though they're bound up with my heartbeat, my praise, my prayer of thanks to God.

The Round
Light splashed this morning
on the shell-pink anemones
swaying on their tall stems;
down blue-spiked veronica
light flowed in rivulets
over the humps of the honeybees;
this morning I saw light kiss
the silk of the roses
in their second flowering,
my late bloomers
flushed with their brandy.
A curious gladness shook me.

                                                                                            Photos by Bonnie Hamilton Beuning copyright 2015

So I have shut the doors of my house,
so I have trudged downstairs to my cell,
so I am sitting in semi-dark
hunched over my desk
with nothing for a view
to tempt me
but a bloated compost heap,
steamy old stinkpile,
under my window;
and I pick my notebook up
and I start to read aloud
the still-wet words I scribbled
on the blotted page:
“Light splashed . . .”

 

I can scarcely wait till tomorrow
when a new life begins for me,
as it does each day,
as it does each day.
Stanley Kunitz

 

ON THIS DATE IN 2005, AT 1:30 A.M.

UNCLE RICHARD - a haiku triptych

                                                    

Familiar laughter

 

Beloved voices fading

 

Heaven greeting soul

 

                      Breath drawn in, let out

                      Strong heart slows, finally rests

                      Jesus makes him whole

                               
                                                     Joy mixed with sorrow

                                                     Grieving family left behind

                                                      Love exacts its toll           

                                                 

                                                                                          Bonnie Hamilton Beuning © 2005


I happened to run across the poem just this week.  He was such a dear man. I'm thinking of you, my Hamilton Swaim cousins, and wanted to share this as a tribute to him and to your family.  He was so very fortunate to have you surrounding him.  . 

 

APRIL, NATIONAL POETRY MONTH

I love this month!  April Fools' Day, Easter, spring rains, flowers and here in Kansas, the black, white and gray world of winter has turned into the Technicolor of OZ!

 Also, it's National Poetry Month!  Anyone can write poetry of some sort, and there are many, many forms. Here are some sites to inspire you:

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/
http://www.famouspoetsandpoems.com/
http://poetry.org/

If you have a poem you'd like to share, leave a comment.  I can set up a poetry page on this blog if anyone would like to reveal your inner poet to this teeny corner of the world.

bb

A POEM

 

 

 

   

You sought life most arid,

and thought the Sahara'd

be bland enough for you,

but soon you were finding

the star-spattered sky blinding,

and ran seeking another venue.

Jungle and seashore

you're keen to ignore

lest they waken the life within you.

A waterfall's prisms?

Waves' thunderous rhythms?

They're relentless!  Your heart they'd pursue!

Thoughts are too deep,

and songs make you weep,

which is something you've sworn not to do.

For you, the Unliving,

trust, love, and forgiving

are simply an alien view.

Know this is true:

no one needs your approval

to pray for removal

of the shroud that envelopes you.

 

Photograph and poem by Bonnie Hamilton Beuning ©2012

 

 

Step into my field of tall grasses and dreams; don't worry about the prairie dragons.

Welcome!

My new blog as you see it now is still unfinished.  There's a bit of random space lying about, and some asymmetry that I'm growing fond of--it makes me feel like a rebel.  Space to breathe and think, yet room to grow, to be filled with good stuff or left open for a better view.

I'm ready to wander about and share whatever jewels and oddities I happen upon. I want to better observe things I've taken for granted, to delve into mysteries of dark nights, and find humor in the sweet and natural awkwardness of all creatures, self included. 

In case you've randomly come to this site, my previous blog was called "Being Here."  I'm  being here now, and haven't decided for sure whether to drag my old posts over here or not.  For now, they'll stay where they're archived, but bits and pieces of them may get recycled here if there's a reason.  

So, explore with me!  You'll find poems, and nonsense, and observations, funny, pretty, and sad things.  I even have some incredibly talented friends that may come and brighten my posts from time to time.  Right, my friends? (nudge, nudge, wink, wink)