the light of pure knowing

the light of pure knowing
note from self

her heart is called
by the shoreless light
she can’t feel it
or touch it
or see it
but apprehends
it is prior to all she
can know—she
rests in aplomb
notices how light
underpins and supports—
solace in thick times and
her ground of being
she is made of this light
it pours through and
around her—
it does this for all

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

dripping in the night

dripping in the night

after bedtime
water drips from the
cedar onto the roof
rolls into the gutter,
the plunks a consolation
to my desiccated heart.
blessed rain!

thirty-three years lived
off and on in California—
now, in one June downfall,
almost an inch?

I long to stay awake
soak in the rare and
fleeting melody, a denser
song on the shingles
hollow in the pipes

the rainfall, the cedar,
the shingled roof—
my very own self and
the friend in another guise

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

collateral beauty

collateral beauty

note to self

I look for it everywhere
only way to stay sane
today, it’s apricot aloe vera
the pompous blooms
dot our garden
my friend the squirrel
sleek and springtime fat
keeps me company
dances on the fence
while I write
jasmine! saturating the air
eager children on tiptoe
search books in the
little free library my
husband built
it matches our home
what a playful surprise
it takes daily tending
remove extra books
sometimes it’s stuffed to
overflow
fill empty slots
the neatening grounds me
in collateral beauty
delight erupts
take note
drink it in
let it nourish you

share

thank you Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer for the title

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

broken and beautiful

broken and beautiful

note to self

oh my God, we are
broken and beautiful
every one of us
admit it or not
“we” includes
bright California poppies
filled with sunshine,
thief in broad daylight,
a knee-shaking kiss,
the rooster shagging
hens in the field,
incessant barking dog

how can it be like this?

how can it not?

our world is
kintsugi, broken—
an earthy bowl
lovingly repaired with
rivers of gold
again
again
and again

thank you Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer for the title.

apparent objects

Treasure MapWhat do we know of the objects of the world? This computer, the table where I sit, the chocolate covered espresso beans, the waving birch trees–look around your environment. What do we truly experience of what we see, touch, smell?

The knowing of it. That’s the whole shebang. When I touch this keyboard, I only have my perceptions of it–the apparent sight, touch, and sound. And what are sight, touch and sound?

The incomparable gift of knowing them. An immeasurable treasure.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2014
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