Category Archives: Poetry
You be the one
You be the one to reach out to the grandchildren :- Doug.
Posted in Eldering, Family, Poetry
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Snowy the field
Snowy the field of air between tree and me :- Doug.
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A necklace of ducks
A necklace of ducks lying along the neckline of the waters :- Doug.
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Must consent to being consumed
Across the flames How else do we hug? Must consent to being consumed :- Doug.
Posted in Eldering, Poetry
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grandchildren, a path from me to thee
Grandchildren, there is a path from me to thee Grandfather, here also you are :- Doug.
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These grandchildren though not yours
These grandchildren Though not yours Your offspring might be :- Doug.
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Or why’s a progeny?
Who will our grandchildren’s grandchildren be? May not like us see Even cyborgs could be Still better than we Or why’s a progeny? :- Doug.
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Centuries connect us
I am seeing some ways to try connecting across the centuries. The first thing is to not go across the centuries, seeing them as a barrier or a long jump, but perhaps a bridge, a wormhole, a field, a commune-ication … Continue reading
Posted in Conversation, Eldering, Healing and Wholeness, Poetry
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Many centuries you have been alive
Many centuries you have been alive then you have met still meet face to face all grandchildren :- Doug.
Posted in Aging, Eldering, Family, Poetry
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Be the poem
Be the poem you seek to hear :- Doug.
Posted in Eldering, Healing and Wholeness, Poetry
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Put something eternal into a
Put something eternal into a hand, the infinite into the tactile: here are the depths. The human mind, finite as it is, can grasp the shirt-tail of eternity. :- Doug.
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A world in a grain of sand
To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower Converse :- Doug.
Posted in Conversation, Poetry
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to roll around in our mouths
This might be where my earliest memory finds a current parallel: a fascination with conversation. It is wafting up from beneath, a heaven ahead that we wanted to roll around in our mouths, to take in, assimilate, be, speak forth. … Continue reading
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Conversings all the way down
Conversing is intimacy, is touching the precious grain and flower, being held. It is the depth of the deep, it is conversings all the way down. :- Doug.
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Spontaneity may not be
Spontaneity may not be it may be an old thought pretending :- Doug.
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Live moments
We live our lives in moments and cannot do other wise :- Doug.
Posted in Eldering, Poetry
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