snag

snag

the lightning-struck oak
stood broken and brown
yet new sprouts grew
from the snag—
woodpeckers
squirrels, a raccoon
all found nests inside—
mushrooms and fungus
grew—zillions of bugs
burrowed and fed
this lively home

when life squeezes you
into a pinched path
or misshapen form
when ideas are blocked
or heart-dreams broken

walk out into the dawn
let the snarl of your mind
breathe moist air
go to the root of yourself—
the oak
brought down and reborn

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

dying away

dying away

every moment
I am perishing
one breath
closer to death
the sun, the moon
even our very own
earth, sources
of sustenance
wither, fade
and ebb away

it’s the way of things

and yet
it’s hard to hold
this—the universe
itself grows, ages
and dies—
my mind, a denier,
even with evidence
doesn’t want to accept

this source of suffering
starts with belief
in past and future
instead of resting
in the cradle of now
it holds us, this now
let the puzzles go
let tension go

now breathe

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

friendliness

friendliness

care for
and befriend yourself
that way
you are never alone
life is hard enough

it took me most
of a lifetime
to learn this
and I relearn it
every day
listen to your
inner yammering
a frenzied parade
of thoughts
we’re so used to
that voice rattling on
an endless commentary
fine tune your ear—
is it a kind friend
or harsh judge?

if you find the judge
smile and just say

no.
no more

only goodwill here

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

iceberg

iceberg

what’s frozen
in us, an echo
of human cruelty
or inattention—
as children, we
can’t process
don’t have the skill
innocent
we stuff it away

that jagged lump
we cannot see
shades everything
blinded, we stumble
react and don’t
know why

shine light
on that bulk
oh, it has stories!
unwind and love them
give them leeway
to thaw—when
welcomed and seen
they no longer alarm
the warmth we offer
melts and releases
they re-meld with
the ocean as one

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

beacon

beacon

all my life
driven toward
an unknown
unseen goal—
refined, but
I was still seeking
so destined
for suffering

I called it
True North
knew its
inexorable pull
it framed my days
offered dimension
and shading

until
I noticed
stillness within
unchanging
reliable
no shape
no color

the silence
bright and alive
waving hello
nothing to find
nowhere to go
closer than close
already here

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

upheld

upheld

while it’s hard
to bear losses
be upheld by love
notice small details
frost on the roof
a prediction of rain
the blessing of
friendship
breathe it in
breathe it out
feel the support
of love’s ground

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

hard bumps – a pantoum

The pantoum is a poetic form originating in 15th century Malaysia that uses repetition. It’s a poem of any length composed of four-line stanzas in which the second and fourth lines of each stanza serve as the first and third lines of the next stanza. The final stanza is often two lines from the first stanza.

hard bumpsa pantoum

life is a bumpy ride
a rumble strip of tests
we are left with one clear job
to hunt for the good in all

a rumble strip of bumps
can pitch you to the ground
search for opportunity
to soften painful blows

pitched onto the ground
push to standing again
look to soften those blows
with a change in point of view

push to standing again
don’t let blows lay you low
with a change in your mindset
you can reframe the losses

be resilient with blows
look for good inside trials
you can reframe the losses
and build a fresh way forward

poke around those hard trials
there’s lessons to be learned
they’ll show a fresh way forward
and point you toward new doors

life is a bumpy ride
we are left with one clear job

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

the seed

the seed

you are the seed
and the one
who tends it

tamp the ground
whisper love
water it
and wait—

each morning
sing to that seed
invite it out

welcoming
calls it forth
the seed will
crack open

cherish it and
its clear seeing

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

threshing floor

threshing floor

my beliefs fell
away in an instant
I watched them
flutter
to the floor

four decades
of practice—
wasted?
how would life
work without my
card house?
how to navigate
the unknown
and wide-open
now?

no more praying
to something
outside
or chanting
for peace of mind
even meditation
is not separate
from being, doing
or breath

first rage erupted,
months passing
before angst dissolved
so much wasted time!
then the idea of time
fell away
useful for living
but clearly not true—
a flood of joy

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

love’s drum

love’s drum

the steady beat
warmth inside
a heart so wide
to wrap us all
love’s drum
it’s not personal
nor should it be
but always there
when we dig
deep

listen now
at dawn the thrum
increases
and hearts awaken
sparrowsong and
owl’s beating wing
matching thud
in your chest
breathe chill air
crunch on sidewalk
feel light streaming
over the land

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.