Poet's Journal

Journal Entries

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Let the Earth Approach

The night is clouded, close with rain, evergreens sway in shadow; darkness comforts. I let the earth approach, tree and tide, the sound of wind,

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Braced Below Ground

White capped waves lift across the sea as winter storms blow in from the south. Bending to the force without breaking, wind strengthens root, trees

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Growing Feathers

Clouds descend on the island with the sound of foghorns and cries of geese. Somewhere hidden above sun and stars continue, while below I’m motionless

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Wind Blessed Sea

Sunlight on a wind blessed sea, the earth green and alive in the ritual of everyday beauty. I practice silence with deep rooted trees, letting

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Leave to the Silence

Putting faith in what passes I am abandoned, while the earth remains in green face shining. The dark of night and sweep of the tide,

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Sweeping the Temple

Dawn on a steel gray sea, the rain-cleansed earth breathes; ancient trees and freshened grass share the hallowed space. Quietly I sweep the inner temple

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Wealth of Winters

Old roots reach deep water, travel through hardpan and stone to the well beneath the earth. There the wealth of many winters, full with light

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Holy Rosary

Flood tide fills the coves and beaches, with sunlight bright on a calm sea. Beauty enters the hollow places, bringing peace to heart and mind

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Pure in Heart

Sun and stars bathe the Earth in light, illuminating the soul in morning solitude and sacred dark. We journey through cosmos gathered in this embrace,

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Record of a Friend

In the still morning the sound of whale’s breath, geese in flight, fog horns in the distance. Close as always the comfort of silence and

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Caverns of Peace

The blue gray morning signals autumn’s approach with the clouds of late summer. The green world breathes under gentle rain; mosses come to life, green

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Place of Solace

Sunlight on the water this cool September morning, with rain clouds over the distant island; the earth pitch-perfect in communion. It took a lifetime of

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Plain Chant

In the dawn hour the sea lies flat between tides, no wind or movement, only the quiet of the coming day. As the sun rises

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Angels of Light

Communion is hard to come by when so much is based on untruth. Addiction to lying demands increasing doses, until the body collapses under the

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Prayer of Silent Truth

My cask of praise empty, the last words of thankfulness consumed in the burnt forest, I struggle to the altar heart weary and without solace.

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Poems