The Kinglet is Hopping

The trees may be cut down
The intentions unknown
But the kinglet is hopping
So I won't be forlorn

He hops from the right side
And to the far left
It's always the same
And always the best.

The bushes where rabbits played
Are cut down and gone
But the kinglet is hopping
So it must be a dawn

Of something now cleaner
Of something now new
The kinglet is hopping
And the squirrels are now too.

-Kelly Voelker

*Kinglets are tiny insect and spider-eating birds.  The one I see always hops the same direction, and has all spring and summer.  He rapidly checks the edge of the lawn where it meets my patio for food, and then goes into the lawn to hunt.  His habit is always from the right to the left.

The Cross of This Existence

I'm aware of Divine presence
I'm aware of Earthly stance
I know which one I'm into
Sometimes I misstep in this dance

A harmony would be here
If something could only bridge
The nothingness of being between
Poles that do not shift

The orchestra of crickets
In the morning stillness knows
The cicadas and the fireflies
Dusk's bridge to the unknown

They're the lateral perfect balance
To the extremes psychics feel
Between the seen and unseen
Where life went, when and where

Between living and where life went
Is a thin and beautiful veil
Which to the blind is distant
But close when I'm aware

I feel crickets as a cosmic song
As heard here on this Earth
When everything is changing
It ensures I know my worth

The essence of pure consciousness
Is a chirping, ringing song
Sped up past our senses
From dusk and through 'til dawn.

-Kelly Voelker

What Does the Hemlock Know?

What does the lovely hemlock say
Amid mid-summer storms
Prevalent and principled
Exists as if the norm
To be so terribly poisonous
And feared in stories old.

Yet with every summer
In each pasture, roadside fence
The hemlock thrives among
Those side by side, cattle whom
Heads are down to graze
Just browsing 'round they roam.

Now mid-summer suddenly sees
Hemlock dry and brown
Amid a rainy summer
It prepares for early fall.

"What does the hemlock know", I say
"Why is it leaving now?"
A wise and fearsome plant it is
And yet it's gone away.

-Kelly Write Away

Poetic Ambition

I woke up from a troubling night
Unwanted rhythms and unwanted senses
Insisted on telling me things which were extra
Nothing I needed to know or act on
Just a jazz jumble all the way to dawn.

This morning I decided to wake up from this fog
Looking at sunrise from the couch lit me up
Wanting to create and make herbal salve
Wanting to eat a big breakfast out in public
Being with neighbors and whomever is there
Sharing a moment of soul food and care

Now as a poet and psychic in One
I want a small practice to occupy and run
A storefront open to heal much of what
Torments and hinders those who would want
Freedom and peacefulness not obstacles
Hidden and posing as "should" and "should of's"

I want to be as important and seen as a
Lawyer or accountant or hairstylist place
Offering deep seeded answers today
With no tools needed just grace and a chair
Who would be bold and who would turn cheek
At such a pure calling to help others on the street?

-Kelly Voelker

Slow Backyard Day

More or less adjusting stride
Choosing service to abide
Choosing slowness
Pass the day
Sipping water
Time displayed
As each a bird
In peripheral view
Tending, living
Flying through
Edges watched
By friended cat
A fly is busy
With this and that.

-Kelly Voelker

Ship of Wonderful Things

I AM a ship of wonderful things.
My heart and mind have traveled and learned.
My evolution for now is complete.
I return to the home port with my treasures.
My ship is too large to fit in the slips here.
I have the wisdom to know what to do.
I AM the wise captain of all that I AM.
I will anchor off shore beyond the gaze of the villagers.
I will humbly row into the village with my small boat.
I will visit the village on foot.
I will risk showing only a small part of who I AM.
Everything else will be waiting for me out there on my ship.
I will eat and talk as the locals do, playing their games.
When it is time, I will row quietly back to my ship.
There I will joyfully reunite with all that I AM.
Then I will travel to ports made to accommodate ships like my own.
There I will arrive with all that I AM.

-Kelly Write Away

Past Imperfect

"includes folk misspellings and made up words symbolic of imperfect recollections and selective repetitive recollection of kin folk everywhere "

If memories yielded more interesting prizes
Instead of a snowballing load of missed chances abided

I'd listen more closely and shy away less
Begging for more insight and meaningful signages

If memories blossomed as wisdom and light
Instead of 'I should haves' and wasted alliances

The elderly wouldn't be lonely
I wouldn't be impatient
Burying my own memories as diseased seeds of bindages

Morphing the rational with doubt and fear left
From hearing the failures and judgments laid down

Our ancestors pass along caution and fret
Diminishing courage as chained ankles in sweat.

                                         -Kelly Write Away
                                         recipient of unprocessed occurrences from elderly family members

The Game at the Edge of the Forest

I walk with my aged Mother
Through this year of connection
Together in proximity to
Know and comfort one another

I sit in the forest glade summoning her
She stays at the edge of the forest
Afraid to come out of the protection
I am afraid to join her in the forest

We have spent many days there
In melancholy
Performing to pass the time with
Games of order we meet
Evenly minded through
The symbols and numbers
Still relevant and true

The cards reveal a truth
"You just never know"
No amount of experience
Disproves this truth

The forest is as written
The forest of the unknown
I want to show her what
Is on the other side
But i don't know which path
She doesn't know either

So we sit together
In silence sometimes
Letting the orderly game
Guide us steadily through
Many beginnings and endings

This game brings comfort and
A call to order of different thoughts
Focused on the reminder
At some deep familiar level
We both know this is all
A part of the game
Any of which can provide
A surprise ending making us
Want to start all over again
Hoping to see and learn something more

Each game is played with the same deck
Shuffled differently each time
A lifetime of choices
Sometimes courageous sometimes passive
Sometimes lucky sometimes predictably flat
Sometimes thrilling sometimes only time consuming

Ordered by four symbols
Varying rules
Different players
Each culture draws comfort and meaning
As we are now
At the edge of the forest.

-Kelly Voelker

Snow Daze

I have lost track of days
I have lost track of hours
My thoughts in a haze
Of poetry and flowers
With snow piling up
Purposes halted
Sleep entertains me and
Friendships exalted

-Kelly Voelker

Irresponsible Wind

The gospel of the forecast
Whose homily is lived daily by
Could not keep up with the
Wind which hurried the snow along
Not allowing it to exit on cue

The wind kept the snow out much later
As they danced and danced
In the darkness alone
All eyes afraid to enter their theater
For fear of the cold bitten wince

And so the dance continued
As everyone worried the
Snow might be late for
A forecast elsewhere.

-Kelly Voelker

Creator Seed

To write is to give priority
To something other than your brain
Other than your punctuality or hygiene
Other than your perpetual juggling
Of other people's demands

To write is to
Give your heart a voice
Allowing others to see
Another choice
Another way
Another idea
Born as a creation
From the Creator seed inside
Let it grow forever

We all come with
A Creator chip installed
It's a free app
Use it.

-Kelly Voelker

Joy of Letting Go

Let go and let the dance hall spin
Taking others taking wins
Round and up and out past ten
Round and up and out past when
You thought the highs were highest then
Round and up and out again

Let go now let inertia take
Outer limits thrills awake
Farther faster bigger best
Simple focuses equate
Making sense of senseless acts
Round and up and out at last!

-Kelly Voelker