great love

Your love is so great that you can send it to the entire world, and still it is endless." ~Don Miguel Ruiz


by staying safely
within the cocoon of self
no growth ever comes

sending out heartfelt
songs and dances of loving,
return with more  songs

reaching the earth's ends-
only to find, there are no
borders in a heart at home

signposts along say
tell a stranger something nice
without need for an answer

give more than you thought
you had to give-just be that
unlimited love

pushing through the walls
created for safety, until
the bricks drop on their own

a new design--trust
seals in the cracks in between
letting soaring happen

Kate Lamberg
12/22/11

hiking, frost, dreaming

hiking along calm lake
trees tower in elegance
we're small, but so deep

frost lines the fences
indicates no sun quite yet
waking to whiteness

dreaming of meeting
minds by the still blue waters
crystalline wishes

Kate Lamberg
12/23/11

whisper pink roses

whisper pink roses at portland rose garden

after cleaning the whisper pink roses
some petals decided to fall;
while placing the flowers
inside the crystal vase
more petals got away

still, this morning, after everyone
got up, we witnessed twenty four
roses, more open than ever before
growing towards the windy grey

no light to upstage the roses
as it is a darkened windy morning
the pink stars greet us in the form
of flowers, perfumed air rising--meeting
olafactories, fairly middling of the road

Kate Lamberg
12/27/11

we stumble in grace

we stumble with grace
for trembling shifts to peaceful
waters lap canoe

why do we need this
slowing down the momentum
at river's in-breath

telling sleepy tales
by the light of krishna's eyes
needled piercing prose

flames rise upwards now
nearing states of forest fire
no water for miles

sagitarius
rises in both of our charts
spinning adventure

sweep the chords to "c"
as a way to have them back
coffeed bolder notes

Kate Lamberg
12/29/11

white smoke rises up

"White smoke rising up in the valley, against the light, slowly taking animal forms, with a dark background of wooded hills behind."--Thomas Merton, December 13, 1960.


white smoke rises up
santa clause jumps down into
conjoined merriment

letting the smoke clear
in distant skies-- allows dreams
to capture more joy

beneath the scalped sky
lie tiny angels singing
sleep will come in time

Kate Lamberg
12/24/11

watcom lake

blue lake borrows sky
while we worship mountains' song
sky lake mountain hymn

Kate Lamberg
12/30/11

blue nights

"during the blue nights you think the end of day will never come" joan didion
for joan

blue nights melt into
dark nights of peace
taking forever

to find the light switch
the turning of light into dark
seamlessly cutting one

longitudinal laceration
skin, bone, muscle, marrow,
blood orange organs,

hairs not dancing--
dark nights of peace
seemingly taking forever;

when we sleep we forget
what endless days notate-
how souls slip into a deeper
listlessness, lowering the boon

breaking the surf, as falling
cormorants dive with more
than enough oxygen to last
out of the windy town

where purposes swirl around
country paths too muddy
the scream is muffled

paper mache' expresses
all that the epithelial cells cannot:
forever changing art, breathes
best on its own


Kate Lamberg
12/28/11

the wind takes no sides-a tanka

the wind takes no sides
although it swings you over
brings you to your knees
settles the score with more space
o-boes, sweet-  playing etudes


Kate Lamberg
12/28/11

sunny cool monday

sunny cool monday
walking among melting frost
all out of coffee

Kate Lamberg
12/12/11

this day, a miracle

gary's geraniums

today, while walking around the pond
my vision, i realized, was too much downwardly focused;
this business of earth, how we need to maintain
our ground, upon a spinning globe, which never rests

firmly, yet gently-- i took my own hand, to help lift
my eyes to see such beauty, i could hardly contain
the simple orange beauty of geraniums in bloom
within a  wooden window box, on the south side

of the grist mill's cottage-where in summer
kids can take arts and crafts, and dream
of whatever a kid dreams in summer
to last throughout the school year grind

the geranium flowering in december-
a miracle of simplicity, caused my breath
to slow, and my sneakered feet to suspend
judgement of this day being anything less
than the miracle it was created for

then i walked some more, to gaze
upon the stone bridge, pond on left
and cascading waterfall to my right
eyes caught the eyes of the great blue

heron, perched wise one on a log
beneath the bridge, so close to where i stood
we were practically breathing the same air

the more i looked at my wise bird friend,
the less i did stare, as we were both
becoming lighter than air, without leaving

the ground; the flight was temporary,
but invigorated spirit's thread connecting
me to him, and him to me--
something gentle, palpable, holy

i sang some oms to the tune
of mary had a little lamb-
he turned his head once,
and then back to the pond's center

i swear he knew-- i was trying
to get his attention,
but with respect to him,
let him be in his element

it was a meeting of spirit,
soft as silk-
the caress of his gaze
haunts me as i write

knowing, he, in his own way
over sushi and moonrise dinner
would register the simple,
divine meeting of me and him-
and smile his classic heron grin

i am not invested in your believing;
this day wrung out my own disbelief
of anything miraculous happening--
as this day was truly a miracle


Kate Lamberg
12/8/11

great blue heron by the pond

the night, once again

the night, once again
has embraced us with her quiet
darkness, letting stars shine

i love the way you
step back to listen, just so
i can shine my love

we write as a way
to make sense of sweet stirrings
comings and goings

like that bird, landed-
and soon after, flew the coop
blessed wing story

shine the truth on wings
different lights for different times
god knows how we shine

do you know the difference
between shining shells at dusk
and shells that glow at dawn

well, my friend that's good
because distinctions have left
my nest of true light

no discerning truth
from fiction; no caring- now
spin eternity

parallel worlds collide
a ride in heaven's dreamscape
earth marries the sky

the whole world presides
within the miraculous
no sides are written

presiding in circles
we worship words, love strokes bliss
dancing round lanterns

purposes served by
all mediums meeting- centered,
arrowing out

blessing the graces
same as gracing the blessed
burnished beauties shine


Kate Lamberg
12/10/11

moon rises golden

moon rises golden
she is so full, she does burst
butters up the sky


Kate Lamberg
12/9/11

She Noticed the Wind~(a haibun)

I don't believe
people are looking
for the meaning
of life
as much as
they are looking for
the experience
of being alive.
~ Joseph Campbell



She noticed the wind was coming from the south east. The small gold and scarlet japanese maple leaves were still holding onto the tree. As if they did not want to leave, but had the wisdom to know, that in time they would take a long rest on the ground. The breeze that caused the maple leaves to flutter, moved slightly south, to entice some hip-high sea grasses to bend, sway and hoolah in the november warmth. The grasses seemed to nod, in attunement with the japanese maple leaves. They indeed had been stirred by the same teasing wind.

She continued to watch and think about how this same dynamic occurs in human relationships. Someone hears a piece of transcendent music, and his heart stirs  to a loving opening. He then steps into a room, and his eyes meet hers. She can feel the quickening in his chest, his shining eyes of peacefulness. She, like the hip-high sea grass resonates with this new friend's movement, as if he were the fluttering maple leaves.

He appears to initiate the powerful swirling of hips. They enter into a dance of commingling energies. They step out of the room, and wander among the fields. One moment they are separate beings. Now they are  one, just like the swaying tall grasses and the fluttering maple leaves.


how oneness teaches-
oneness learns though soft dancing
loving picture show


Kate Lamberg
12/5/11

your presence

Your presence is a river that refreshes everyone,
a rose-garden fragrance~Rumi

when we were speaking
on the phone last night,
i swear i smelled
the soft scent of roses

we were talking about
your bringing flowers to your mom-
when i asked the color, you said pink;

that's when the fragrance began to stir-
the rich scent, bordering
on a formal rose garden;
i had to open the window-

even after we finished talking,
i stepped out into my rock garden,
and smelled the pink roses,
fortissimo, my quickened heart

Kate Lamberg
11/29/11

pink rose at the portland rose garden

tuesday evening

listening to rain
classical music- reading
into evening

Kate Lamberg
11/29/11

sitting at the base of a ponderosa pine

i read women poets, saintly, long dead
and try to breathe in their experience
as nature can help to create
various states of being,

just by my being
within the fresh autumn air
back upright, against a huge ponderosa pine
feet and knees submerged in soft pine needles

at the end of november,
feeling blessed beyond measure
sitting outdoors,  my sanctuary
of green, and brown earth beauty

focused, relaxed,
present to all that is,
and ready
to be a part

of all that is yet  to be--
i dangle, drop,  release...
all the past,
that no longer serves me


Kate Lamberg

we do discover on our own

we don't receive wisdom;
we must discover it
for ourselves
after a journey
that no one can take for us
or spare us.
 ~Marcel Proust




we do discover wisdom,
beginning with a tiny flicker of light
gaining momentum,
with our attending to it

nurturing the light
until it burns our soul
filling up our auric fields
for miles and miles--

a realization to relax any fears
one to allow the release of tears
to fall, and to help grow wild flowers
to forever bless and brighten the field
of our vision, we have started alone

soon to embrace the knowing...
we are all doing this in one fashion or another
and we shall all meet in the field of flowered visions
all of us lit from our hearts cleaving to truths

we have received on our individual journeys
eventually pooling together in one finite center
the circle to include all
in the family of forever unfurling light

just not from an outside source,
other than our inner heart beating
in resonance to rising tides,

hands held with people
we thought were strangers
strangers no longer
as we all walk towards  the fiery  center

no longer holding back the truth
that love and light rise together
above the forever field of greening wonder


Kate Lamberg
12/1/11





'in resonance to rising tides' (long island sound)

lostness and wonder

"In the cold days of Advent I recapture the lostness and wonder of the first days when I came here twenty-three years ago, abandoned to God, with everything left behind."--Thomas Merton, December 1, 1964




we must leave behind all things,
to embrace the one
that wraps around all things
with beauty, bursting
softly whispering
only love

 Kate Lamberg
12/2/11

eyes are window souls

Few are those who see with their own eyes and feel with their own hearts
-Albert Einstein-


our eyes are window souls: they shine
both what we keep as secrets
from ourselves,  and all who see us;

soul knows- without words;
in silence, prayer like-
no need to explain

our eyes also reflect every thing:
some things hold more love---
like babies, blue jays, and sunsets

other things, bare the truth--
like dust, electric bills,
ripped jeans and garbage

our eyes, composite rocks, revel
with all we see, & all we refuse to see-
(so we breathe this knowing in, scrupulously)

when looking out at the rain that falls,
or simply opening up our eyes,
for the first time in morning-

seeing the one we love
tell us, "i love you"
and hear it

as if
it was
our very first lover,

leaning in to say the words
that make our tummy flip flop
like a fish out of water,

loosening the cords
of hearing anything else- just
feeling the tender nascence-

striking chords of bright light,
flashing wonder-- peeking
into windows, made warm-

by sun radiating freely,
embracing both
the calm and the thunder

Kate Lamberg
12/2/11

gratitude

To speak gratitude is courteous and pleasant, to enact gratitude is generous and noble, but to live gratitude is to touch Heaven. ~Johannes A. Gaertner

we are not violins, but can be more warmly wooden

When the violin
can forgive the past,
it starts singing.
~ Hafiz


we are not violins, but can be
more warmly wooden:worn, as the violin,
forgiving, in its wooden breathing

for instances outside
of our control: like rain,
to dampen spirits-
a warping of a sound board

brave enough to step out
on a windy  day,
to tune our very spirit
with an ear to the ground

hearing horse hoofs sing
by their very thrusting
along the way, forcing
apples to fall off trees,

freely, falling- soon to rot
its sweetness, gone bitter-
an ear of apple chutney
softens the blows of horses

heaving their wonder weight
on the earth as they move past
bringing up some history
we thought was buried

but it's only rotting apples
turning to chutney, singing
down on the farm-
down on a child's level
of understanding:

we walk before we talk:
just sounds-- as the child
walks around the apple trees,
she feels the scents the horses left

the sound of power, the music
of eternity hoofing-- as fragrant mud cakes-
hot and dry as the desert earth;
with so little of a past, the child sings


Kate Lamberg
11/28/11

december's cool air

december's cool air strokes my face,
sends my brown hair flying-
obstructs my vision
for a little while

wind wakes up all who walk;
truth tends to rise up from feet
which move-- finally reaching mind;
currents, like cattails can hardly believe

this is happening to me--
alive to breath of  joy;
viewing the changing clouds,
light jutting more angularly

through clouds, fondant candy
whipped &damp; spun sugar flying-
head in the sweet clouds of change,
feet keep beating the cadence

Kate Lamberg
11/30/11

then i fell asleep, and had a dream

then i fell asleep, and had a dream
i know it was a dream
because i awoke from it

i am in a group, standing in a circle
our arms are around each others waistlines
we are singing and chanting an ancient song

i don't understand the phrases,
yet they feel familiar
we drone together
softly prayerlike

i awake and still hear
the sounds reverberating
i try to sing them softly
so as not to forget

the magic melody,
the sacred words-
a blessing, beyond
this lifetime's comprehension

Kate Lamberg
11/23/11

as i was falling asleep

a spiraling
of silver and gold
sparkles
fell from the sky

down into
the proscenium
of my crown
percolating
through my skull

my face glowing
from the inside out
a million points
of sparkling light
poured through me

returning
to another lifetime
crystal skull dance soaring
all while falling off to sleep

i knew i was not dreaming
as i felt the soft warm bed
and my hands gently resting
upon my abdomen, softly breathing

Kate Lamberg
11/23/11

Two lions stand tall

two lions stand tall
in front of the buddha hall
protecting all souls

radiance of sun
truth, speaking purity
fiery lions

in meditation
silence overcomes the noise
minds, quieting down

illumination
sunshine flashes of bright light
flood attentive mind

once light is released
the floodgates continually
pour endless joy jewels

surrounded by light
we cannot help our soaring
while rooted on earth


Kate Lamberg
11/25/11

How clean do your words burn

Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.~Leonard Cohen


how clean do your words burn
as complete thoughts, real to
real feelings, probable visions,
wood cuts from potatoes

released in the air,
spudded bullets melting
to butter toffee ribboned stream...
sweet essence disappearing,

as soon as rainbow river
turns a corner--away
from steady granite earth

savories kept uppermost
in palate's sensibilities-
the sweetness had to disperse;

among the water lillies,
turtles tend a careful watch
from fallen over log, unmoved

just the steady breathing out
of plants lining the river- soaked banks,
the witness breathing in

the miracles of carbon
dioxide exchanging with oxygen--
toes barely swirling in mud path

finding one's way back
to camp, before the dinner bell;
leaving more time for mud's perils

pearls crop up underfoot..
worn as toe rings, rarely
seen in these parts;

pantomiming prayers
the silence is deafening
we are there


Kate Lamberg
11/23/11

if love is why we are here

why do we spend anytime judging-
another soul's journey is her journey
our journey is our own

somewhere we meet in the middle

why do we spend anytime worrying-
the master plan has been drawn.. well before
our mother knew our father's name

letting go of our need to be better
realigns us with a sweet soul song
pushing us so high in the sky

we all will get our wings and fly
as high as soul decides will be
for all those present, in harmony

spirit is saying we really want
all the same things; we just
speak our demands differently

touch, love, food, a roof
oh god why can't we
live more simply

if love is why we are here


Kate Lamberg
11/24/11

i said this is no crying matter

My shadow said to me:
what is the matter- Margaret Atwood


i said this is no crying matter
not to worry, dear shadow
as matter perishes like dust

matter moves more slowly
than time or space;  we need
to be patient, honour her ways

it matters to walk on cool wet grass
while morning sun strokes the new blue sky
with dreams tenderly tucked uppermost

dreamless, we do disintegrate
more quickly....into the welcoming earth

living life, as a seeker of silence
has no loopholes- as silence
celebrates all matter as it is

no frills, lace or  bow,
silence pulls you in
the drum roll you know

introducing a self you cry for
my shadow friend
who watches, knows:

psalms center our attention
along with the breath,
which had been on detention

to every thing that rings,
follow from its inception-
truth will then be

by your side, bringing
a comfort knowing
you are swinging by your tail

monkey shines upside down
in the black willow tree
at dusk, won't you follow

the pain is in the resistance;
once the owl winged decision happens
to fly..fortuitous formations are designed

i said this is no crying matter:
shadow creeps in her understanding-
shrinks in awe of snowy owl's lift off


Kate Lamberg
11/25/11

trust

As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live.~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe~

trust yourself right now
whatever dark shadow burns
a hole in your heart

just step through the hole
and enter into the light
of a brand new day

Kate Lamberg
11/26/11

changes

Some changes look negative on the surface but you will soon realize that space is being created in your life for something new to emerge.” ~ Eckhart Tolle

how we move through

how we move through
the rhythms of caring
shines in the level
of baring souls,
with no thought
of consequence;
we just move with,
not against the cherry grain
flowing with the pouring rain

Kate Lamberg
11/21/11

bare trees in winter

Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are. ~Arthur Golden


bare trees in winter reveal
their original lines,
lithe, innocent

our nakedness reveals
who we are, stripped
of fashion's dictates

when will we stop needing to choose:
when will we be happy with whatever
shows up.. willing to flow, as a river spurts

right through our living rooms
drops of purple and gold graces
swimming, without racing

stories from faery tales floating
pages rearranging
tiny threads of truth
bobbing to the surface

infinity
telling us
just what we needed to hear
without having to choose

we just sit down with
whomever is at our table
share soup and bread

sleep when tired sings
dream when dreaming needs
to shine who we really are

truth, reverberating
in wide open fields, we find time-
head resting against a maple tree

eyes reflecting stars
within our vulnerabilities,
gleaming in ceaseless sea

Kate Lamberg
11/22/11

moon shines

moon shines her silver
we respond in kindness- still,
we worship her  light

cold morning keeps us
underneath the comforter
well after sun rise

sun does not complain
she'll be meeting up with moon-
merging, at sunset

Kate Lamberg
11/19/11

hearts are meant to be hung inside out

“Have a heart that never hardens, and a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.”
-Charles Dickens



hearts are meant to be hung inside out, dried
out on the clothes line, with a warm august wind
pliability flourishes, by not being anything divisive

still the four chambers chug along blood
like it is going out of style; the opening
and closing of the gates between rooms

conveying fluidity, forever pumping prayers:
ventricles, veering towards the heart
arterials, ascribing to rush away
from heart's grand central station

all while conga beat
delivers dance steps-
even a murmur offers a mambo,
a skip finds a lou

to those whose romance
is on the rocky shores of blocking
arteries, as the bay of funday

can be seen for its beauty,
or just remembered,  for having
the highest tide


Kate Lamberg
11/18/11

how to be heard, without shouting

how to be heard, without shouting


turn down the volume of your voice,
so as to be audible, yet not overpowering
in crescendo-- voice trailing

behind your words, which employ
the natural rhythms of breath,
breathing out who you are

the gentle voice of a mourning dove
gets her point across, without the need
to jump up and down-- words carry

their weight on water wings
swans bring, from either side of the pond
communing great grist for the mill

Kate Lamberg
11/18/11

neweyes

 The real voyage of discovery consists of not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes. ~
 ~Marcel Proust


 in this dream i awake in the basement of the house i grew up in
the sun has risen, so immediately i realize i have overslept
i walk up the staircase, look down and realize
my robe is in the bedroom, i am naked

i open the door into the kitchen
to my surprise the painters have come
to paint the kitchen walls a lovely egg shell white
i crouch and cover as much of me as possible

the men are working outside, looking in
one sees me, but pretends not to,
light gets into his eyes in late morning

i notice two brushes sticking up,
on either side of the door(brush side out)
leading to a square hallway

still covering my cool deer body,
with my long ballet arms, my ram horns bunk the door open
and i run to the safety of my room

Kate Lamberg
11/17/11

Note:  I ask the angels, my higher self...to provide me dreams which will expand my intuitive abilities, as well as inspiration for my writing and music. Poems, inspired by dreams are called, "droems". I have over 30 years of dream journals, all screaming to be translated into poems/music/more understanding. I am grateful for my ability to remember my dreams, and blessed to understand what they are saying to me. :-)  kjl

moon trumps the clouds

clouds try, but never completely overcome
the brightness of the moon, la luna's luring-
pressing through those amorphous clouds

Kate Lamberg
11/15/11

my front door faces south

The only lasting beauty
is the beauty of the heart.
~ Rumi


my front door faces south, the direction of soft
gentle breezes in spring, sudden changes of wind
in winter, where snow piles up, more quickly
than sand can be tumbled up, in a raging storm

and as quickly as the crystalline whiteness does fall-
it gets weak, it melts, with no remorse... as the direction
of the south is the birthplace of our sustaining sun,

brushing aside a light dusting of white, an apparition
of green sprouts from the undersides of a mum
comes into being, fragile in her shaking off the powdered
sugar, breathing green in early winter knows her
premature arising will be the beginning of her demise

some leaves from underfoot scatter,
a fortuitous burrowing of autumn mum
through winter's deep freezes, january thaws,
and the height of cold in february, frigid breezes,

sun makes an appearance-negligible, in her influence-
iin warming the most open patient heart
hardly realizing the worst of winter stings, then numbs,

the fingers wet in woolens,
the heart as warm as july's baking sun
a bubbling warm apple crumble,
served au natural

within the safety of one's home,
fingers slowly awakening--
to the warmth always known,
in a heart whose home

is everywhere; music is played
whenever dancing delivers
arabesque, jete', plie'

however healing trembles..
because it is only you
with, never against
the elements of the world

Kate Lamberg
11/15/11

soul sweeping

You don't have a soul- you are a soul. You have a body. ~c. s. lewis



soul sweeping


soul dives down
decides which body
to reside in for a lifetime

at the moment of conception
love lingers long enough
for soul to align with body

so anytime you hear yourself
complaining, it is not fair-
just be your own soul

have a little talk
with your body brave
enough to journey

let your soul speak
enter into the still pointed
moment of lift off

when the words
take flight, joy birds-as spirit laughing heartily

river sashays a prayer:
just your reflection in the moving water

slowly wisdom encircles
as the choice to spend
your life in soul's stage

enlivens, supports, relaxes
your body's aqueous environ-
a soft lapping of remembering

why you are here-soul's hand gently gripping
boundary-less, joy hugs, earthbound feet,
head soaring into heaven, waist and hips drawing

circles with the ocean,
knees kneeling underneath evergreens
growing forever skyward

roots, forever felt growing up-
bodhisattva:a living loving vehicle
for sweet soul's awakening


Kate Lamberg
11/15/11

in tune/out of tune

Through pride we are ever deceiving ourselves. But deep down below the surface of the average conscience a still, small voice says to us, something is out of tune.
Carl Jung


do you ever sit still long enough
to hear the harmonics, hammering in your ears--
that blessed music would appear,

challenging you to accept the ground you walk upon
as real live music, while you mimic the alley cat-
disco-ing down dark back streets,

hoping your whiskers, and sensitive tail
would lead you to true sound: your bravery,
bellowing in baritone, sara bande-

all at once celestial...
& perfectly pitched, profound

Kate Lamberg
11/16/11

soul travel

All day I think about it, then at night I say it. Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing? I have no idea. My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that, and I intend to end up there.~ Rumi

natural healing

finding time to sit
within the arms of nature
silently restores

softly renewing
breath slows down, hope rises up
to meet beauty now

healing happens when
quiet joys spurt smiles, passion
with the simplest things

mountains clad with snow
serenity swings high and low
sitting in awe's grace

Kate Lamberg
11/14/11

silence

In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness. 
Mahatma Gandhi


silence wraps around the porch
with a limitless view of the ocean
sends no person running

resting in the silence
one discovers soulscripts
those clear lines of grace

an attitude of silence
transcends the need
for perfect quiet

as sails are hoisted upwards
towards the morning sun-
as waves creep, mellow at low tide

as southwesterlies do not hide
their persistences, in the wake-
fulness of the dawn

Kate Lamberg
11/10/11

polish

"Everyone sees the unseen in proportion to the clarity of his heart, and that depends upon how much he has polished it. Whoever has polished it more sees more - more unseen forms become manifest to him." ~ Rumi


seeing appears when
we do not look for anything,
bursting from the inside

how clear one's heart-
is immeasurable, either full,
or getting there

even upon a polished heart
dust falls after sleeping in,
then finds its shine again

what was dormant comes alive
as sure as faeries appear,
slipping out from water's edge

Kate Lamberg

11/10/11

world collapsing and opening

“Whenever the dialogue stops, the world collapses and extraordinary facets of ourselves surface, as though they have been kept heavily guarded by our words." ~ Carlos Castaneda


friend, i reach to you in quiet threads,
lightly brushing oak floors with a gentle
curvature, drawn as spiral

sweeping in towards
the center of my being
hearing the sounds of my own aches

creaking upon the uneven floor boards
the unceasing drip of water in the soaking pot
the relentless whir of the refrigerator

one moment, sidestepping the world-chatter
chooses a silence, as if it matters-
as if anyone cares for silence

in its devious ways of opening up
the crenshaw melon; exposing the seeds,
the soft sweet vulnerable flesh inside

Kate Lamberg
11/8/11

oak leaves

"My watch lies among the oak leaves. My tee shirt hangs on the barbed wire fence, and the wind sings in the bare wood."--Thomas Merton, November, 1958.


for Thomas

watches stay at home, when pressing on
to find the sterling being, residing in the one

silken blouses, pants that need extra care
are left by the riverside, when immersion

finds one needing less, to float
more easily; grace descends

the point of entry, never leaving
light rises at the thought of nothing

breathing wonder wakes the forest
squirrels sent scurrying

shakti meets with shiva
at the river of realization

rocking out the river
dreams peal easily off the micaed granite

sitting upon flat blue river stone
oak leaves fall on their own

travel both up stream
and down to mountain's source

magic paints peppermint sticks rubbing
the cooling effervescence melding

with the sharp contrasts shown in light:
knowing who to carry and who to leave,

knowing when to tarry and when to travel
we bid fair adieu to a life always leaving,

in order to embrace a life looming

as high as a starling sings
and as long as a oak tree bears leaves

Kate Lamberg
11/8/11

beyond the beyond

wanting to reach beyond the pond
she tumbled and fell into the murky
green water, full of swans, ducks
algae, three feet thick, trying
to strangle the determined swimmer

she swam a breast stroke to make her parents proud
she nose dove away from impending dangers,
remnants of dead swan babies, killed on contact
from hungry geese, landing upon foreign soil

she was swimming for her own life, as she neared
the other shore, promising rest and solitude
a stroke of peace between the currents
seemingly against her stamina, and sweet soul

there is finality in action, she once wrote
so many years ago; moving with a problem
as opposed to sitting dreamily beneath a tree
she finally made it to the other side, breathless

she stepped upon the mossy soil, roots exposed
from a hundred year old silver beech tree-
electric green sea weed clinging to her arms and legs,
pond water dripping, feeding the moss beneath her feet

ducks clamoring, in twos, towards the beech tree
singing, "she is free from the perilous pond"
falling, she rests her head upon the beech-
resting within the music, she becomes her own song

Kate Lamberg
11/7/11

fulfillment

Occasionally in life there are those moments of unutterable fulfillment which cannot be completely explained by those symbols called words. Their meanings can only be articulated by the inaudible language of the heart. ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.


sweet kittens scratching
waking up dreaming mother
forgiveness over coffee

cool air paints promise
clean white, light blue sky dancing
saturday's bright joy

Kate Lamberg
11/5/11