I thought I missed the desert
The solitude and stark beauty.
But what I loved is turned under
And yet another subdivision
Stretches like an amoeba
Consuming the land I once loved.
The urban sprawl
The traffic, pollution and the noise
The desert dug up and for sale
Giant Saguaro shipped to New Zealand.
There must still be some places
Where I can walk alone
And breathe in the subtle scents
Of desert clean air
Of iron wood and mesquite.
There has to be a few spots left
To listen to the whisper of lizards
As they bask in the heat
And the mourning doves' special sound
As they wing away in surprise.
I almost felt it
Almost caught the wave of joy
I used to know
Of extreme quietude
And subtle flowers
Hidden until rain summons them.
I almost found it
The peaceful moment
When I could lose myself in the serenity
Of the past
Of a simpler time
Of an unspoiled arroyo
Where only long quiet moments
Arouse the secrets of life
Lived at a much slower pace.
Almost
But not quite
And I am sad to say
I didn't find the time
To find my way
Back into the desert dry past
That was my innocence
My childhood memories.
As the airplane flew off over some
Humanly undisturbed distant desert
I admired the hills far below
They looked like crushed brown velvet
Or the wrinkled face of an ancestor.
But even there I saw a dirt road
Going somewhere
Leading me to believe
Man will never be satisfied
Until all the earth
Is trampled and claimed.
And even the direst dry desert
Is gone forever.
Copyright J. Armbruster May 25, 2005
For information on publishing or posting this, or any of Judi's work, please contact her by e-mail: Judi Armbruster, armbruster@sisqtel.net
Judi is currently working on a collection of poetry to be published under the title "Canyon Songs." We expect to release this volume in the fall of 2006. We will be posting Judi's new work from time to time. Please come back and check it out!
You can find more of Judi's on-line poetry at the following web site: http://www.sondra.net/al/ Information on the "Book of Hope" can be found here: http://www.lorenzopress.com/id19.htm And last but not least, you will find Judi's home page here: http://www.geocities.com/jarm1948/
Judi's poetry is prominently featured in the book "They Call Us Indians,"
originally published in Swedish and and now available in English. This anthology
of eleven Native writers features nine of Judi's poems as well as a collection
of her haiku. More information on the book is available at the link below.
You will also find a short Bio for Judi under the list of contributors.
http://www.world-foundation.nu/English-Book.htm
Harvest is most well known for her herb book "Sacred
Smoke"
and for articles
on herbs in various magazines and books. Her poetry has also been published
for over 30 years in anthologies and journals including Sondra Ball's popular
"Autumn
Leaves."
it was just
moments ago
nano seconds
really
when considered
from the perspective
of geologic time
in that brief flash
my universe
changed
i have tossed
out romance
success
i don’t
have time
submerged
in infinite
rhythmic thought
the seasons of
muscle and sinew
ancient dreams
of bones
now twisted
and battered
entranced
with the secret
lives of seeds
their subtle
small firmness
pregnant
with the future
of all living
beings
it was just
moments ago
i will not return
to ownership
to being owned
i will not return
to commerce
or convention
i will not return
I Will Not Return
Harvest can be contacted at harvest95546@yahoo.com, for information about publishing or posting her poetry or to arrange book signings or readings.
Harvest is currently working on her second collection of poetry, "Dream of the Landscape," which is currently featured on our Home page. More of Harvest's work can be found at: http://www.HarvestMcCampbell.com
And this was my great treat a long time ago
Just the hot water was a treat
When the snow was THIS Deep
And we could see our breath all day
There was no phone
And no power
And the well was all frozen
And we bought water from the Ste. Lawrence in barrels
From a guy in a jeep
For 25 cents (Canadian)
And my father's rabbits - the ones he had snared
Waited, frozen, on boards in the porch
Waiting for the chamois man
While we ate the muscles of the rabbits
And our dark, inscrutable, damn Indian eyes
Watched
Corina's writing is very versatile. She is the author of two unpublished children's books. She has also been working on some articles for Red Cedar Publishing. The first one, Jump, is posted on our Articles page. Her poetry has recently been published on Autumn Leaves and is included in an anthology available from the International Poetry Society.
Red Cedar Publishing will be including Corina's work in upcoming anthologies; and we have other ideas for collaboration in mind. In the mean time please feel free to contact her for more information on Redbird, for information on publishing or posting her work, or to arrange poetry readings and appearances. Corina's E-mail: redbirds_vision@hotmail.com
Becoming
Who we are
A mixture of
Courage
And uncertainty
Part desire
Part truth
In the moonlight
In the firelight
We dance
Our singular
Collective
Realities.
Copyright June 25, 2005, Corina Roberts
Terri Baker has written poetry since childhood. She enjoys revising and playing with words. For the last eighteen years, Dr. Baker has worked as a literature and American Indian studies professor at Northeastern State University in Tahlequah, Oklahoma. Her extensive publication credits include poetry, plays, essays, book reviews, and a video. Below you will find one of her recent poems:
Fleas drove us finally to commitment,
That and the ancient dog with whom I lived,
Who often listened in silence, wisely
Twitching her left eyebrow as I quoted
Milton. When Satan speaks to Sin who is
“Sad instrument of all our woe,” she’d shake
As if emerging from a pool, water
Wordlets spraying in a circle from where
She stood chuckling with that doggie good sense
That rejects such straight-line stuff instantly.
She knew that even fleas must live – their goals
Mysteriously a part of blood flow
That feeds the dog, the fleas, feeds me, and love.
So succumbed in grace fastidious Tom
To my love, for him and a dog who had
First call for reasons of the heart that bind
Us all. Tom wept a bit for a clean house,
For still carpets, where one could rest one’s head,
Gaze soulfully into the fire and doze –
Instead of being nudged over by life
Panting, grinning, hosting that traveling flea
Relentless as Genghis Khan on the move
For tribute, for turf, for kingdoms to rule.
And oneness was ruthlessly overcome
By blood flows, goals transcending what we know.
Once an ancient dog and fleas created
Roadways where now we move without a map.
Copyright 5/05 Terri M. Baker
We plan to include some of Dr. Baker’s work in up-coming anthologies.
She also has a few writing projects of her own we hope to bring you news about
in the coming months. You can find more of her writing on the following web
sites: http://arapaho.nsuok.edu/%7Ebakert/index_files/Page670.htm
http://arapaho.nsuok.edu/~bakert/poetry.html Biographical
information is available here: http://arapaho.nsuok.edu/~bakert/backgrnd.html
For information on posting or publishing Dr. Baker’s work or to inquire about poetry readings, please contact her directly: bakert@nsuok.edu You can also visit her home page. http://arapaho.nsuok.edu/%7Ebakert/index_files/Page354.htm