The Power of Song

Sing, let your voice

fly free and strong

joining together in

the power of song

Drum, heartbeats rise

echoing old ways

mothers listen

the spirits praise

Women and song

that is our way

drumming together

grandmothers say

They teach us the ways

to sing with our voice

drum with our hearts

love and rejoice

Women rise be strong

for girls listen

to the power of song.

©River Maria Urke 11/10

dedicated to Oshkii Giizhik and all women hand drummers Miigwech~ thank you

Moments of Sunrise

A vessel of flowing warmth

swirls of vibrant hues

uncovering dark corners

with moments of quivers.

Delicate petals waltz

around the guarded grotto

as solid walls, tighten

breathlessly with every twirl.

The waltz quickens

as waters churn,

the mouth of the cave

wets from within.

                ©River 12/10

 posted for One Shot Wednesday week 26 at One Stop Poetry
check out other poets 

picture thanks to Google images

Paralysis Times Three

Twenty-one

The first time, I woke all numb

 equally from my knees down

traveling up and stopping

 at the bottom of my ribs.

I found my own therapy

and in no time at all

I left the hospital walking

 all weak and tingly-legged.

We road tripped west and on the way

I built up my strength with Hackie Sacs,

 soaked my legs in Hot Springs,

then tingly I ran the Oregon coast.

~

Twenty-six

The second time, my feet hurt real bad,

my left big toe was numb.

Later that day, it moved

equally from my knees down.

It rose up my body and stopped

at the bottom of my ribs but

this time it jumped to my hands.

 I was three months pregnant.

They said it was caused by my head.

I perfected my own therapy

walking once more.

I left the Hospital knowing

it would be awhile until the tingly left again.

~

Thirty-one

The third and final time at last I knew why

I was numb and tingly, unable to stand.

I faced the battle more angry than afraid,

a relapse from MS different then the rest.

I felt tremendous pain

 to mind boggling extreme.

At times it could have flipped me out

however, I was stronger no doubt

with morphine on my side.

I pulled out my therapy like a pro ready to walk

even so, this time I changed, damage had been done.

I had a limp to the right and no feeling in the left.

That’s when I made up mind this was the final one.

~

Thirty-seven

An unexplainable pattern of age

has followed me for nearly twenty years.

Afflicting me every five,

leaving me temporarily paralyzed.

Until this last round of five

the pattern took a dive

and I flew right by

breaking

the pattern of five.

2010

Snow Crystals~ Sedoka

     Snow Crystals

tiny cold crystals

mystery of innocence

a fragile dance by thousands

ivory key notes

reveal treasures of beauty

they dance into formations

                              River 12/10

Sedoka is two katauta poems put together. Each katauta is a 5 7 7 syllable count and can stand on its own. They can be any length and are considered mood poems-for feelings and songs.

Echoes

The Stone Nordic Theater

by moonlight is barren,

except for the latest Graffiti

and once in a while a

drifter borrows a night,

soothed by crashing waves

and the hum of the city.

By daylight, the stone

reveals its cold, empty stage,

a webbing of jagged cracks

crumbling from neglect.

The stonewalls hold memories

wrapped  in aged grape vines

flowing from crevice to crevice

near a woman dangling her legs

over the edge.

An edge of the mossy wall

overlooking the mighty waters

behind the Nordic theater.

She contemplates choice

with tear streaked cheeks

watching the brewing storm,

the swell of rolling waters

crashing against rocks

wails against stonewalls

echoes through the theater.

12/10 

posted for One Shot Wednesday week 25 at One Stop Poetry ~ check out more poetry

rewrite~ between two realms~ video

This is a rewrite of between two realms presented in video. The original poem is in the archive.

posted for One Shot Wednesday for One Stop Poetry

between two realms

with every bend in the country road

the voice of a distant grace grows louder

guiding the woman forward as she nears

a field the voice becomes a whisper,

she stops in a cloud of dust and parks,

rising in the haze of an autumns dusk,

she ventures out into the field.

framed in pinks and hues of brown

a herd of deer graze on fallen corn

a gentle crisp wind sails

through grasses and layers pale

meandering footprints worn

a destiny laid out since she was born. 

darkening rays crawl across the sky

playing shadows with her eyes

she glides closer as they begin  

slowly moving, their pace quickening

she swiftly falls in behind, closing

her eyes, letting intuition guide

traveling towards the ravine.

winding down the hardened walls

passing through the door of realms

under the archway in between

they enter a timeless place of magic

where free verse rings true all classic.

gracing the powers of the unknown

she stands back watching, listening

a flutes sweet melody soars

waltzing notes of violins spinning

streams of conversations willing.

joining in thought and verse

one human among dozens of deer

contemplating life and walls of fear

around a table spread of a does delight.

dangling lanterns dim as beats quicken

to the pondering movements of the drum

pulsations of rhythmic echo’s

mingling trails of new beginnings

carry songs and dance with lots of cheer

an evening of festivities with the deer.

12/10 River Maria Urke

a rewrite can be found on video

Two Heartbeats

Two heartbeats steal innocent touches upon
cheek and thigh
undressing one another with their eyes.

He whispers sweet words between breaths

of everyday terms as she watches them form

on his lips, dreaming of their sweet kiss.

Two heartbeats borrow moments of time

snatching reasons of sharing presence,

knowing rings of wall stand in between

holding back thoughts clawing to be free.

Two heartbeats skip beats of forgetful rights

longing, he touches her flowing hair,

they pass quick glances of passionate desiring

sneaking kisses in shadows of yesterdays hiding.

Two heartbeats stand in the entrance of reality

stepping from the realms of fantasy,

they face their pasts of fear and choice

breathing free thoughts of wandering hands.

Two heartbeats trace the movements of the other

outlines of moist lips upon sweet nakedness

intertwined beauty of whispering wonders

two heartbeats are lost in the mists of the other.

posted for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry week 24
lots of poems to be read by awesome poets~ check it out 

Gaagaaiwa Enwed ~A Raven Calls

Ninoondawidiz gaagaaiwag inwe

I hear the Raven call

asaawe gichi miskwawakikaandag aka owabandanan

perched high in the great red pine, she waits

bizindaw. Nandotaw na’idaa azhigwa

listening. Listening for the right moment

googi niisayi’ii miniwa biidon nibwaakaa ikidowinan.

to swoop down and deliver a message.

Nibwaakaa ikidowinan ninoondawidizamin inwe,

A message for the ones that hear her call,

nindonjibaamin gichi miskwawakikaandag.

the ones that come to the great red pine.

Gaagaaiwag enwed

A Raven calls.

Ginoondaw ina?

Do you hear her?

The Raven Calls~

Grateful

I begin this post with a reading of the prose Grateful. I feel it is a piece that has to be heard not just read.

 

People ask me if it sucks to have MS. If life is really hard, especially; being a single mom too. What can you say to that? “No! It’s a snap!” or “I barely make it! I have no idea what to do any more.”

Neither of those answers works for me. I don’t want to be too revealing or a drama queen. I want to strive for balance and be more honest with fewer words. Is that possible?

I used to think MS was a burden upon my life. Always taking something away from me and leaving nothing in return. I felt my legs get weaker and my fingers loose feeling. I felt my pride lessen and my confidence dwindle.

Then one day, I realized I had it all wrong. My daughter and I were complaining about how much it sucked that MS interfered with our lives. I needed a relaxing quiet home day and my daughter wanted to spend the day at the beach. We were both disappointed in our own ways in our own corners. Then it dawned on me, it all mattered how you were looking at it. At another angle it could look quit different.

I began to reflect to the day my legs stopped running and I received the gift of a slow pace in all its entirety. I glanced down at my hands and thought of how they used to create works of beads and wood but clumsiness took root in them and now words bounce forth. I pivoted to be face to face with my daughter and remembered how lucky I am to walk with her throughout her day.

It took awhile for my eyes to open and for me to recognize the life teaching lessons that I am acquiring living with MS. It is so much easier to notice what is disappearing from ones life and a great deal harder to see what one is gaining from living with a disability.

I am grateful for receiving such treasures!

©2008

posted for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry week 23

click on the link there is a lot of good poetry

by many great poets

a chalice of faith~ duel poetry

This is the fourth poem Charlie/slpmartin and I have wrote together. 
Duel Poetry:  a prearranged poetry writing challenge  between two people to evolve a new poem where each writer must respond to the other writer’s lines  (4 -5 ) until both parties agree that the poem is complete.

 Charlie has an audio reading and 

below i have a video reading.