My Honey Is Dancing
by RZ Balchowsky
Our kitchen is filled
with the scent of gardenias;
my honey is dancing and eating his pie..
Our senses are filled
and I know how he feels yes,
my honey is dancing;
he knows I know why...
The scent of sweet honey
flows up from the cup wells,
the scents of sweet honey and coffee and pie..
This day is beginning
with hummingbirds floating;
my honey is dancing;
he's hugging the sky...
Human Nature
There is a path, a beauty way;
to walk this path awakens our stay..
This is a way to live with Light,
with stars by day, the Sun at night..
A threshold shows the way within,
and crossing this our lives begin..
The archetypes live in all our deeds;
where kindness reigns sprout fertile seeds..
Amid the simple seeking sight,
the prayer to rise to do the right..
There is a sweet scent here of flowers,
a feeling of time, though not of hours..
And moving on, as Love's Light grows,
in human hearts Divine breath flows..
Are We?
Are we are we
are we where we
are we where
we want to be?
Are we are we
are we who we
are we who
we wish to be?
Do we know
we seek we sow?
Do we know
we love we grow?
We need to know
we seek we sow.
We need to know
we love we grow.
Will we still be
still be will we
will we when
we still be old?
Are we are we
are we where we
are we where
we need to be?
Are we are we
are we who we
are we who
we choose to be?
Toward The Relief Of Suffering
May you gracefully find an air pocket..
enter into a deep
relationship with it and
in becoming all that you are
may you be cushioned...
While learning all
you must learn
may you be cushioned...
May you be cushioned
by warm Light also
by a breeze rolling round you
carrying angel dust drifting
through your aura
while being gently fanned
by the wings
which brought this radiance...
May you soon see
all this to be true and
may you
be cushioned...
Shall We Go To The Moon On Vacation?
Shall we go to the Moon
on vacation?
We can stop off at Mars on the way..
We could help melting weapons,
pour the liquid out sparkling,
into stars and reflections
we'd say...
Shall we go to the Moon
on vacation?
We'd light fires on Venus each day..
We could help warming hearts up,
feel our own Souls uplifted;
we might dance
on the bright Milky Way...
Well...
Shall we go to the Moon on vacation?
What a view of the Sun on our way!
Shall we go to the Moon on vacation or,
to Demeter's place by the bay?
Terracotta Madonna In Late July
...terracotta Madonna standing
on Earth
amid black snake, sundial, cast iron tools..
enormous rocks, shells, crystals,
surrounded..
dried purple hydrangea, lively green ivy,
ferns, peacock feathers, orange nasturtium strands..
flower pots in so many colors full
of red begonia, of violet lobelia,
of nothing...
ten foot long green garden table
arched over, enfolded by,
huge juniper bush dripping
wildly adventurous blue
blue morning glory vines..
warm, metaphor drenched visions
clouds drifting by
twilight
in late July...
About The Angle Of The Sun In Late September
there is always something
about the angle of the Sun
in late September moving
through plaited vines
through wildly loose bobbing seedheads
cosmos in their nearly tattered
elegantly orange grandeur
through curling zinnias in symbiotic profusion
archways curving toward perfect harmony
tilted umbrellas meeting and leaning
with creative imaginations on
sturdy bush branches floating so easily
chiaroscuro mystery sun motion songs
of light,
of life,
of warmth
something
about light and shadow
so balanced
for days and days
such simultaneity
brightly illumined yet
daringly dim and darkened
together
together together
and I
I am called to pause
to pause at the wonder
called to pause
blindingly smitten
lovingly lured
something about the angle
of the Sun in late September always
tells me something
I always know
I need to know and so
I do pay attention
for that is what I have
I listen
I listen as I can
to melodies of light
tonal shadows sounding
harmoniously brilliant
their blending always
beckoning
always beckoning
toward lessons
I must learn...
This Moment
..this moment
the wind has moved the leaves
two sparrows float forever
on motionless wings
over the flower bed
the rain-washed grass
stretches it's delicate silence
to the thunderous wall
and the song
which comes to me
from the eternal embryo of Infinity
is strong...
A Personal Prayer
May we all soon know more
of our one common source
so that no more
will we be blind..
May our angles of vision become
as varied and clear
as the crystals which grow
in the caves:
lovingly
firmly
eternally
confronting the darkness...
Is Not In Time
The star-lit sea,
the sand, the hill,
the rock,the bee,
they linger still...
To linger thus
is not in time;
prey to no fuss,
and you are mine..
O, you are mine,
we've made our choice;
O, I am thine,
we do rejoice!
* * *
Since age 12, I (RZ Balchowsky), have willingly, intermittently, written poetry; Currently I am 68, and a grateful great-grandmother…
My unrelenting search in this incarnation, I now know, has been for Beauty, Truth, Goodness, and Love…
Countless roadside challenges have required, countless voluntary radical Soul transformations in service of my persistent pursuit of such goals… I have had profound help along the way..
Real life is truly big and absolutely, never boring…
My father was the great artist, poet, philosopher, and one-handed pianist, Eddie Balchowsky…He did not "raise" me, but he certainly raised me when he finally got the chance…
We strive on, yes?
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