WingSpan Poetry Project

CULTIVATING EMPOWERMENT THROUGH POETRY


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Christmas Remembrances

I remember Christmas in Wiltshire–I was quite small–maybe twelve years old. A beautiful cottage for the Christmas holiday. Snow so thick and high when we went into the mountains, Daddy driving. Snow had been piled aside in one lane, we called it meringues, high, curly and crusty. We could not see the countryside it was so high.

I remember a rook fell down the chimney with the twigs of his nest.

I had a painting project for school. We looked and hunted everywhere for the correct size and strength of the drawing paper. Where we found it, I do not know. So many years ago.

I remember Christmas in Scotland at my brother’s. A dance after the party. Holly and the scent of burning logs. Whisky and ginger served after dinner.

Then later, in Dorset, a family Christmas, a tree and presents, tales of my voyages in America and my brother’s exploits in his London bank.

Later a magnificent Christmas in Rome, Italy. The snow falling like icing, coating the palm trees in the Piazza de Spagna, a very rare occurrence. Lots of laughter and wine and beautiful clothes. Merry making on the old palazzo on the Tiber River. Chestnuts, a goose. Instead of the English Christmas pudding always stuffed with tiny silver charms passed down from generations and set alight by my father with brandy flaming, there was a cool delicious Zabaglione.

So in love. My boyfriend was there and we shared excitement of what was to happen that weekend.

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Going Through the Gates of Hell

You are 6,000 miles from your family.
You are with a group of people you think of as family.
You know that some of that family might not make it home.
You know you might not make it home.
 
You climb in to a M998 and get ready for your night.
You check you gear and make jokes to lighten the mod.
You race out in the dark and the only color you see if green.
You are prepared for the worst evil and hope for the best.
 
You notice something that is out of corner of your eye.
You and your team slow down and the next thing you see is bright green flash.
You are blinded by your night vision and hear gun fire hitting all around you.
You run to the M998 that was hit by a RPG.
 
You have to save the people in it.
You can only save one of them.
You have to pick who will live and who will die.
You have to work knowing the target wants you dead.
 
You know it will all be over with soon.
You know your team is the best.
You know your team will win the fight.
You know some are going back to base and one is going home under a flag.
 
You get too come to home and see your family.
You have to put on a happy face and not let them know how bad it was.
You need to tell your family that you are going back.
You know this might be the last time you see them.


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A great day

and great planet, great time waiting for things to happen

A great event of huge proportions also waiting to happen

Our great sun getting whiter by the day,

great mission craft waiting hidden behind clouds, waiting

The Great Event, deep azure blue flashing out from Sirius

A great central sun. A great time to be here.

A great colossal firing of the cosmos.

A time so great all human kind will remember

Great bolt of heavenly blue entering our sun

and thus cleaving our planet earth. so timely,

all those of the light will be touched. I have waited

all my life for this spectacular event.

And so the Great Creator’s will gives us the perfect timing

and great spiritual extraterrestrials abound.

 

 


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You

You that they gave life and breath to

You that they betrayed with word deeds and don’ts

You who gave back as good as you got

You who gave your two cents and kept the change

You don’t have to try anymore to understand you

You don’t have to succeed where you failed

You only have you, you are enough, and plenty for you

 


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My mother

My mother the lovely lady
My  mother the giving friend
My  mother, where did you go?

Are you in the dark
or with your clothing in the closet?
Bella is twenty now and wakes up
in the morning at 6.

Each week i pull out photos of you
when you were young.
Oh mother, where could you be?

My mother the Goddess
My mother the nun
How it was all so natural
and oh, how fun.

 

 


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The Day

This fortunate day, so full of sun
with clouds scudding away on high thermal winds
A plane quickly passes, high, high up
just a thread of silver exhaust with a blob for the plane
passing high overhead–all those passengers having lunch
a wee speck in the sky.

Meanwhile, here on the ground,
autumn is approaching.
Changes from one season to another.
Reach out the numbing fingers of cold.
Snow very early the other day, falling
on the mountains, but falling as sleet
down here on the ground.

A dear friend shared with me the wound
a wonder of golden light emerging
from her flesh after a healing on her painful arms.

Oh, to be so gifted as to see that light!
That light which encompasses us all,
each one–the creator’s light.

We sense it, even feel it some times,
it comes like a warmth filling the body
or even like the caress of the wind.

Andromeda is here!