slipstream
dogged and resolute
she was on the hunt—
not sure for what
but insistent in the search
she sought for spirit’s slipstream
like a cyclist seeks the wake
peddling behind a rider
to propel herself along
relieved to find her rhythm
with companions by her side
she rode into that vacuum
for something she called home
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
conduit of wonder
first light
creeps back
as our planet spins
it’s quiet out there
until the birds come
I hear twitters
and tweets
in the bushes
then they show
themselves, blinking
fast as though
rubbing their eyes
little red house sparrows
hummers greedy to
feed—eventually
a lament of doves
feast on seeds
dropped from the feeder
ten, fifteen
even more
busy on the ground
mostly safe
at our house
could be a hawk
or cat around
one predator
never here—
no guns now or ever
simply wonder
light
winged things
and luscious calm
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
servant to the heart
note from self
the rooster crows—
she awakens and
comes alive to
this world again
plants her bare
feet on the floor
parks her hands
on her heart and
dedicates the day—
“allow me to serve
let me be kind
may my words be
humane, my touch
tenderhearted
I affirm knowing
not-two”
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
thorn
the wound
doesn’t bleed
but the rosebud
embedded
its armor
it throbs
she sucks her thumb
then locates a needle
cures it in spirits
bites on her lip
and digs
the whole thorn
needs to come out
or will fester
so it is with
misunderstanding
knife deep
but with care
the full root
must be plucked
or else it regrows
and could claim her
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
fragrance
note to self
like jasmine
like frangipani
or the luscious
scent of your lover
the big field is
inviting you home
daffodil bouquet
fresh puppy spice
or the nape of your
infant son’s neck
the big field is
beguiling you home
turn toward the tang
trustworthy and true
follow the trail
the big field is calling
come home come home
come home
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
vow to herself
note from self
pick a petal
drop a petal
pick a petal
drop a petal
a clearer mantra
than he loves me
he loves me not
see-two not-two
see-two not-two
all around the blossom
love one another
see the other as you
for there is no other
only a rainbow mirage of
ten trillion things
it’s an enigma of course
the one and the many
see-two not-two
see-two not-two
a refreshed daisy game
she has always
stayed true
kept her eye
on the star
anxious or not
frightened or not
heartbroken or not
this matters more
this matters most
this is what matters
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
you shattered her cage
note from self
hands together
she bowed in
a sign of respect—
you shattered
her cage, her terrain
of misunderstanding
with precise, spare
and elegant words
reoriented her to the
big field of knowing
she cannot unsee—
ruined, she smiles
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
edgewalking
note to self
you walk the edge
along paradox
negotiating the rim
with care—watch out!
you can stumble—
canyon on one side
crevasse on the other
you might go adrift in
the dark side of a story
or the bright—
can they both be true?
try this—embrace them
oh yes, it’s uncomfortable
sometimes agonizing
also boundless and free
balance on that
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
stay rooted
note to self
amidst hatred
that spreads today
clashes for land
wars over water
discord everywhere
we don’t admit
the other as kin
our whale mother
gopher brother
and human cousin
stay rooted here
in the marrow of
your own heart
the avowal you
know to be true
we are plaited
together
you are my core
and I your breath
there is no other
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
the invisible tug
note to self
when you feel that pull
there’s nothing to do but
listen, tend it, and trust
it won’t let you go and
has its own gravity
best to follow the call
you have been tapped—
the task is to dig
be an inner archeologist
choose an ethereal brush
dust with delicate care
ground holds you up
air provides breath
water is required
a web of interbeing
not even that
keep looking
there’s no web
there is no “two”—only
consciousness shining
we’re made of it
shot through with it
and rest in it
but you can’t find it
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
the heart of the matter 