REFLECTION: "Carolina in my Mind"

The best poetry and artwork is found on what's naturally and effortlessly painted by Mother Earth.   In co-creation, here is how I experienced a recent sojourn at my friend's beautiful home in the South Carolina woods. 

Oftentimes amidst the speed of city life, and during moments where a place of peace is yearned for, I think of my time and visits there.  I think of the naps taken on lazy outdoor garden benches, and of quiet walks in the woods.   As I merge into the green and secrets reveal themselves to me, I re-enter the sonic world renewed, refreshed, and reinspired.  

Click Here to see what I saw there.   Enjoy!

OBSERVATION: Spanish Love Songs: Found in Translation?

What is there about the words to some Foreign Love Songs that despite a potential and legitimate command of a vocabulary, can also genuinely be understood by the innate language of one's heart?

I've always said that I Think and I Dream in English, but that I Feel in Spanish.

Maybe this is one reason why some Spanish Love songs tend to speak to me, but if you listen with your own heart, without understanding the words, maybe they also speak to You. For these are not compositions whose spoken words you truly need understand. These are songs that invoke a certain sublime eloquence that touch you deep inside. And the velvety sound of the Spanish guitar, you can almost feel on your skin. Understanding the words only heightens the experience.

On this sticky, late Summer night in New Orleans, I found an old compilation I made and brought from Miami, my hometown. On it, I rediscovered Venezuelan singer/ songwriter Ricardo Montaner. This one dreamy poem of a song is so very lush, romantic; and though some of the lines may be lost when translated [below], if you close your eyes to listen, indeed you may understand anyway. 

So here's to sultry nights of contemplation, and rediscovered love songs deeply felt.

Click here to listen and watch video of Song, "Yo Puedo Hacer" by Ricardo Montaner

I can
make Violets Bloom this morning at ten,
a glow worm remain alight until the train passes by
and for September to become the eighth month from this day on

I can
make you not feel the cold of the icicles thawing from my soul,
make the provinces of your body surrender under my kisses,
and for a rainbow of black and white to delight you with surprise

I can
make your path become the same as mine,
your sorrows become my sorrows,
and for the sky to come to your door

I can
make each day of yours, a century of mine,
and each dream of yours, a dream of mine,
and make you greet each sunrise with a sigh

I can
from the silhouette of your body, build my shelter,
from the balconies of your breasts, erect my cottage,
and in the winter,
from the wells within your rivers, quench my thirst

I can
make each day of yours, a century of mine,
and each dream of yours, a dream of mine,
and make you greet each sunrise with a sigh

I can
I can
I can make the violets blooom today at ten.

"Of Shelter and Rain"

Outside,
it rains very Hard
and Earthbound Water falls
upon a defiant Winter Garden.

Inside,
it rains even Harder
but I sail adrift on the idea
of what Hard Rain falling
awakens in Me.

Descending drumbeat
elixir, that through Water,
striking and luminescent,
unlocks the Portal possibility
to a Soul's desired Reflection.



So under this long awaited flood,
YOU finally appear….
and through bittersweet
shades of Twilight,
I venture beyond
grand fortress windows
and let YOU in.

Over heavenly wet Earth,
We finally move,
and like raw Silk,
I breathlessly yield,
to the thirst quenching
Splendour, of this
one, final Surrender.

The grand torrent Rain
suddenly stops, but
with waterproof Skin,
drenched and filled
in the warm deepening
Afterglow of YOU,
it dawns on Me,
that if only under the Spell
of this Rain induced Reverie,
Together,
We might be
Shelter.

New Orleans, 2007

"In Flight"

And I,

the phoenix,

from earthly

flames of consumption,

fly undaunted

into welcoming sky

                                     I am

the keeper

of Mysteries,

and the teller of Truths,

flying while knowing,

of scorching sun

Published 2004, La Rosa Blanca

"Ode to the Cantabric Sea"

The Voice
of the World
speaks to Me,
in wondrous places
by the Sea


Seductive distraction
of water’s lull,
briefly resting
on sand clad shores,
arriving in concert
with salted wind,
echoing lyrics
already past.


The Seaglass Memories
of Poems,
yet to be written,
of sacred places
by the Sea.


Santander, Spain 2004

"Flower"

I am

A Warm Winter

In a Cool Summer,

A Collection of Contradictions

In a Gallery of Answers,

A Slow Moving Train

In a Fast Moving World

A Silent Flower

In a Garden of Laughter

Published 2004, La Rosa Blanca

"Prayer"

Mother Moon,
Fill me with Light of Inspiration
Blessed Wisdom of Time and Spirit

Father Sun,
Endow me with Strength and Courage
Faithful Companions to Journeys of the Soul

Sister Star,
Guide me through Dark Nights of Contemplation
Shatter Illusory Foundations and Build Me up again

Brother Sky,
Wash me with Renewing Drops of Morning Rain, then paint a Rainbow to Remind Me of Love

Published 2004, MiPo Gallery, the Water issue

"Island"

     Beware Conquistador,

     who travels from afar,

     eyeing elusive island

     with lust of acquisition.

     For elegant promises

     yield no gold, nor

     triumphant blood

     of impending conquest.

     Irreverent mountains

     profess scant welcome,

     for faithless intruders

     of imperialistic gleam.

     Watery words shatter

     upon reefs of disillusion,

     for a Body, the pearl,

     of no man's Caribbean.

    

     Defiant forests guard

     alchemical secrets,

     archetypical monuments

     of spiritual ancestry.

     Resisting colonization

     by trespassing foreigners,

     those pillaging plunderers

     of transcendent soul.

     Yet on deep shores

     rests, the valiant vessel,

     in timeless pursuit

     of elevation and meaning.

     Compelling skyward journeys

     above ocean floor treasures,

     sailing in concert,

     around restorative sun.

    

     But beware Conquistador,

     who travels very far,

     see, possessive desires extinguish

     dreams of Flight.

     For a spirited island,

     belongs to no one.

     Not even to,

     the emancipating Sky.

Published 2003, the LSR Review

"Louisiana Sunday Afternoon"

Melancholic oak
welcomes the wind--
purple rippling surface barely
moves me,
but a cold heat stifles.

A bird’s sudden flight
signals a warning--
and smoldering clouds announce
it is far too late

A friendly smile tells me what I need to know—
that a hot Lousiana rain is about to break.

Carrollton Street, New Orleans, Louisiana, June 2004

"Of Childhood, Memory & the Florida Keys"

                                                    With the Wind,

she blew through the trees--

Girl of wild hair and enchanted imagination,

barehandedly catching grounded butterflies

for release into the Sky.

With the Earth,

she built a small home--

A wooden enclave within a sheltering forest,

where raccoons partook of stories and tea,

and a choir of ladybugs kept Time.

With the Ocean,

she believed in mystery--

Discovered places beneath the surface

housing authentic essence of life, and

sustaining secrets of Surrender.

With the Moon,

she dreamt of a timeless Love--

that would find her, and She him,

in a dance with the soul of the world and

truth found among the Stars

With her Birds,

she learned of life’s impermanence—

How wings coveted broken,

scar spirits, enticing fragile hearts

to seek comfort in Flight

With her Books,

she understood the rhythm of words--

and She, unwitting sister of Daphne,

found a voice for this silent world,

and as a Woman, gave birth to its

laurel leafed Song.

Published 2004, MiPo Gallery, the "Water" Issue

INTRODUCTION: Why the name?

I have been writing poems since I was 15, but the title of this web log, "Of Fiery Places and Sacred Spaces" refers to the name of a collection of poems I have written about life based on geography; the poetics of astonishing spaces without, and wondrous places within.  

Though our preconceived ideas about geography mentally take us to spaces of land, through poetry, we may also navigate places within the intricate and delicate cartography of the human body and mind.  This collection of rhythmic words and ideas thereby represents a sort of tapestry based on location, sometimes sacred, but always inspiring, and body and mindscapes, always warm, and sometimes fiery.  Through the medium of poetry, I explore physical and spiritual movement, and the outer and inner journeys of the body and mind.

In addition to poems written and those yet to come upon the Grace of the sporadically visiting Muse, I shall also endeavour to document impressions of life, lived and viewed through a poetically synaesthetic lens.  

waiting for Rain in New Orleans,
amy