The Prize~

The Prize

Dedicated to Brandy Brenna

Three good friends canoe down the Kinni

each with their own bag of thoughts.

They navigate Clapping Waters

following a calmer course

they lean back, gliding the stillness

and hear the air between her wings

before any of them see her.

The fisherman in the rear

only noticed the fish

The artist in the front

only saw the bird

The dreamer in the center

witnessed the marvel of both.

An Eagle great in essence and size

Dove down to the surface of calm

waters, a little ahead of the trio

Grabbing a huge trout in her claws

Hovering over the water

Flapping her powerful wings

Gathering her strength

then flying away with her prize.

                                         ©River Maria Urke 6/10

6/11 rewrite

thanks to google images

A Tale of Time

A Tale of Time is a story told in the form of a poem.
                              ~ ~


.......  Daydreaming on a Sunday afternoon

              ~ an abstract moment in time ~

          

~ The Keeper and the Well ~

                                   with a Drop of Time!

Time is untouchable

invisible to the naked eye

many have tried to own it

in its own right, it is…

Some believe it is man made

revolving around people

captured by hours upon seconds

tightly within a box.

Others watch Earth’s cycles  

and count the age of old rocks

measuring of mere moments

encompassing all life.

One knows the truth

about time and all its secrets

the chosen one that watches

the true Keeper of Time.

 Decades upon decades

he neither ages nor dies

bestowed a legacy of honor

a destiny of solitude and time.

Crossing through realms

the Keeper wears two faces

one tells of his legacy

the other sees him as a tale.

As a new century nears

the wind sings him reminders

the time is here to begin

his travels to the Well.

The Keeper of Time kneels

amidst the sands of the Sahara

waiting and praying

 on the eve of a decade

a new dawn in time.

One Drop of Time releases per century

the size of a grand mountains tear

falling towards the Sahara

in rings of sand it lands

instantly absorbed

flowing down

the Well of

Time.

Crystal clear

drops of time

lucid in collection.

Awaiting in a well of stone

tended by the Keeper

for all of life

requires

time

stepping

realm to realm

the Keeper travels

 bestowing them their tempo.

Rhythms of difference

beats of fast and slow

realms of opposite flow

carved out riverbeds

on a course of their own accord

running at their own rate

two flows

connect

continuing

down the road on

an abstract moment in time.

   © River 2/11

posted for One Shot Wednesday week 44 at One Stop Poetry~ writers and readers wanted!!!!

Spring Crystals

Spring Crystals

Alongside the edge of a curb
hidden under thin translucent ice
flow the melted crystals of winter
thawed free from the frozen grip
that locked them in for months.

Warm rays touch the thinning ice
the waters swell
accelerating down their course
on a carved out path to the river.

They gather items along their way
joining the frigid currents
until, the waters shed
the travelers off to the side.

Around cracks small rocks and
sticks fuse with mud and leaves
sealing the open spaces
forming mini pools.

Where I, a shoeless fairy, play
all afternoon with a friend
splashing and laughing
on a warm spring day.

©3/11 River

posted for One Shot Wednesday week 38 at One Stop Poetry
come join the fun

Ancient Stones ~villanelle

Ancient Stones

Ancient stones speak tongues of history
a truth of time buried beneath our fears
forgotten knowledge told as mystery.

Only a few can hear stones speak clearly
bestowed this dying gift they walk in tears
ancient stones speak tongues of history.

A history if lost is gone in misery
it bears wisdom of times we made unclear
forgotten knowledge told as mystery.

Alone among the hills lives a gypsy
she hears stones tell ancient stories when near
ancient stones speak tongues of history.

One must believe and listen gingerly
in hopes to hear an ancient stone appear
forgotten knowledge told as mystery.

Stones tell the truths we lost in memory
the day we ran like fools from nature’s sphere
ancient stones speak tongues of history
forgotten knowledge told as mystery.

©River 3/11

villanelle rules: 19 lines, 2 repeating rhymes and 2 refrains, 5 tercets and 1 quatrain, A1 b A2 / a b

A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2.- capitals refrain lower case rhymes.

1 and 3 line of 1^st tercet repeated alternately in the last lines of the succeeding stanzas; then in the final stanza, the refrain serves as the poem's two concluding lines

from the French

posted for One Shot Wednesday week 36 at One Stop Poetry~ come & join the fun!

INDECISION

INDECISION is the 2nd version of  the poem  A Tree Weeps.

~Gichigami ~

Gichigami ~

Oh powerful Nookomis!

You take my breath away
Every morning when my eyes set upon you.

One day you will be gentle and soothing
The next day you are raging with passion.

At times people fear you
At most they are in awe!

You are Nookomis to all!

Then why is respect lacking for you?
Why every day are you poisoned?
Why do people fight over what is left of you?

Oh powerful Nookomis!

Are you laughing or crying at us humans?

                                                                    ©River 1996

One of my favorite poems I wrote many years ago. I grew up on the very tip of Lake Superior in Duluth Minnesota. The lake is a big part of who I am along with my Anishinaabe/Ojibwe heritage. I use a couple of Ojibwe words in the poem. Gichigami means Lake Superior and Nookomis means grandmother. There was a battle over the big fresh water lake at the time I wrote the poem. Some Southwest States wanted the States around the lake and Canada to agree to pipe water down to them because they were running out of water. In my opinion and many others they choose to abuse their water so they could have green grass in desert conditions and other reasons. We did not go for it. I have no idea what they ended up doing with their water shortage.

~ ~

A friend asked me this question.  

I was wondering about the initial line “Oh powerful Nookomis!”… in my cultural view “grandmother” is wise and gentle….so I didn’t fully understand the line…but that is my weakness not the poems…which was well crafted. Would you mind expanding on your intent with that phrase?

I guess to start, I should explain water is female and animate in our cultural view. Nookomisag or grandmothers are wise, strong, and gentle. They are the teachers and traditionally were part of the council. “Oh Powerful Nookomis” Lake Superior is one of the largest fresh water lakes in the world. It is part of the St Lawrence Sea Way and the huge ocean liners carrying loads follow the water trail dropping off cargo on their way to Duluth. A bunch of those ships lie on the floor of the lake. The storms are intense. Once a friend and I were knocked down by a wave that crashed against the shore rocks walking on a boardwalk. My old dog that was 110 pounds got away in time but we were on the ground soaked. That is on shore. Anyways, Lake Superior is a Grandmother and very powerful. “Oh Powerful Nookomis” 

On other days, her beauty delights nourishing with peaceful bliss. I feel spiritually woken. I absorb her unconditional love and feel renewed by her waters. Miigwech!

One Stop Poetry- One Shot Wednesday
posted for week 19
Check it out- there's lots of good work to be read.  :)

Nokomisag

Nokomisag

I land in the cradled arms of a river

touched by her grace

embraced in her love

I bathe in her waters

under a full moon

praying to my grandmothers

nibi minowa giizis

for strength and guidance

for their teachings of

releasing and healing

cleansing and cycling

singing

songs

gathering

medicines

replenishing

lost strength

 Miigwech Nokomisag

                         

                            River 10/10

posted for One Shoot Wednesday wk 17 on One Stop Poetry

* thanks to google image for the picture