When the Coweta woodlands burn
The ghost of Muscogee forefathers return
Their silhouettes appear against the waning moon
Ibofanga disguised as the wind rushing to protect his 'Piedmont heirloom*' ...

Tenacity is called for in fighting the ominous battle with
melancholia.
Time goes by and I am well of aware of the imminent;
there is nothing to do but accept our destiny.
I feel like a stranger to myself, idling about waiting for nothing,
all the while busy in the day to day happenings.
I am patient for the day when the clouds lift and I am pulled from the depths and into the light.
Even so there is always that low level of despair that lingers...
©A. Harris 2017

When it seems as though
The human coil is unravelling
And we have peaked
Our REM of creativity
And we seem awash
In half-baked positive negativity
And the whole world seems
To be drowning in self-induced sleep
While even the watchers
Seem to have both eyes closed...

Turn this thing around
And open bloodshot eyes.
Stop your own unravelling
And delve deeper into creativity.
Strengthen the bonds
Of your own exclusive and non-exclusive spheres.
Allow your peaceful world to dawn
Even though the outside world drowns
In its own exclusive and non-exclusive pool of fears.

My voice cannot be silenced,
for eons I've been dark,
a fire brought me the poet,
life held,
within a spark,

I've waited in the mountains,
I've drifted in the cloud,
I've divided with the river,
and my voice is pretty loud,

I am the mighty maple,
& I am the tallest cedar,
I've walked among the peoples,
I've stepped out with every leader,

I've soared above with eagle,
I've flown with every flag,
I've died with every soldier,
I came back in every bag,

I am the mighty heavens,
I am the rivers, lakes and streams,
I am in all you ever realize,
I am the wish in every dream,

I am a big ol' waxing moon,
I am in a starlit sky,
I am in every flower bud,
I am the thread in every eye,
I am in every sweet hello,
I'm in every sad goodbye,

I am the from bravest people,
& I am the fearsest one,
I am a savage warrior,
I am the shining sun,

I burn in every fire hot,
as I rage an angry fist,
for those who do not know,
why not?
this life a precious gift,

I've walked a million miles,
been on the valley floor,
I've climbed the highest summit,
& in the depths of hell before,
I've swam the biggest ocean wide,
I swam back to love on shore,
I always share in all I have,
I receive the humble poor,
I'll help with any needs you ask,
with an ever open door,

I ask not that you must like me,
or agree with all I say,
I say respect who is the person first,
I say respect the only way,
I fold my hands to hope that you,
you hear these words I pray,

I pray you show all loving kindness,
stop ignorance and human blindness,

I am me,
I am you,
I am us,
we... are all really the same.

Ma Cherie © 2017

Your words are beautifully crafted
When I hear you speak, I feel home

Then here I am, always stuttering
like pebbles from big boulders, I crumble

I ain't even good enough to finish this poem

Hot sassafras tea and shortbreads
Served by weathered , loving hands
Beagles introducing the postman
Water Oaks shedding their color
Dirt roads went on forever* ...

There were idols in days of old
Made of wood stone silver & gold
They had a mouth eyes & ears
But they could not speak see or hear.

And there were also idols of flesh
Filled with God's own breath
The same images we worship today
Creating physical & spiritual decay.

These idols of flesh we're exalting
These idols of flesh we wallow in
These idols of flesh we're consuming
Will consume our mind & our spirit.

Taking away what we can't live without
Replacing inner peace with fear & doubt
Precious time spent covering up our tracks
Looking ahead but still looking back.

Burning on the ancient altar of lust
Occasionally saying we've had enough
Sheepishly returning to the altar again
Learning to live with the scars & the pain.

They are flesh & blood just like me & you
Filled with emptiness when the act is through.