Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “sing”

The Old Singer

The old Singer stands in the corner waiting,
legs still slim and pretty, veneer still holding,
though the years have left their scars.
And sometimes I let her sing again,
let her merrily ‘chat-chat-chat-chat-chat’
as we pass the cloth back and forth,
like old times.
But yesterday I sat with threaded needle and
quietly sewed by hand.
She seems to sleep more now a days,
in her corner, on her slim and pretty legs.



Redwing Anagrammed

I have never heard
a better reason to wake
than the redwing’s song.
Harken another
divine barrage, and a song,
the sweet tweet hovers.



the second haiku is an anagram of the first while still holding to the 5-7-5 syllable form.

Mother’s Day

She was a real person.
She would not have been happy on a pedestal.

She took chances.
“What have you got to lose?” she’d say.

She enjoyed every moment
and knew the time to laugh and sing was now.

She not only smelled the roses
she planted, grew, and tended them lovingly.

Every day in my life I loved my mother.
Every day in my life I always will.



Goddess in the Garden Rewrite.

Emergence Indigo-drawing by L Studley

"Emergence in Indigo" - Pen and Ink-Indigo variation. By L Studley

As always, I received some very insightful feedback from my writing group on Saturday! I submitted ‘Goddess in the Garden’ for them to critique and was inspired to do a rewrite. Rebekah mentioned that, although I include references to ‘singing to’ the ‘sun’, ‘stars’, and ‘ocean’ as well as to the ‘earth’,  most of the poem seems to talk about the earth only. She suggested that I expand the poem, and I think she was right.
I am including the rewrite here but the first draft is still in its original post if you want to compare them. The rewrite is obviously longer, but it also explores the Goddess in her relationships with these other elements.

Goddess in the Garden

The Goddess in the Garden is not afraid of snakes.
She strides barefoot, browned by sun, washed by rain.
Nakedly unashamed of the miracle, she lies
upon the open ground and leaches her essence
into the greedy earth, renewed, reborn through a million petals unfurled.
Burgeoning in tempting fruit and wanton weed alike
she sings the earth a song of plenty

The Goddess in the Garden is not afraid of the light.
She sways, heliotropic, eyes wide to the sky.
She steams from Earth to arc in apogee
to turn, prisms tangled in her hair.
Becoming the light and flooding back to Earth
she sings the sun a song of power.

The Goddess in the Garden is not afraid of the dark.
She dances to the rhythm of the moon, lambent steps
through dusky depths undaunted.
Limned with icy fire she spins the long night
into blessed dreams.
And smiling sweet abandon
she sings the stars a song of wonder.

The Goddess in the Garden is not afraid of water.
Dissolute she melts into the tidal swell.
Cradled in creation she floats in seaweed,
Hair streaming out behind.
A perfect balance of blood and brine and breath,
she sings the ocean a song of life; deep, immortal, ancestral home.

It is no sin to sing.

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