bell
I invite the bell
again and again—
toll me awake!
I envision a belltower
a resonant bell
a prayer of sorts,
although what
could I ever pray to?
I launch prayers
into the void
chock full of
knowing and love—
the bell resounds,
sonorous
the echo reminding
I’m already home
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
about time
as a child, it crawled—
the long spread of summer
hot, humid days
the stream in the woods
where I plunged
hands into chill water
wrestled a stone
from the bottom
stared wide-eyed
at fossils, I ran
fingers over a body
millions of years old—
for the first time
I felt awestruck and small
now the days rumble by
like bumps on the road
first light, last light
first light again
urgency presses
there’s work to be done
I don’t hunt for fossils
or watch seedlings grow
but that awe took root—
breath in and out
words filling a page
these mark my days
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
choice
Choose what you want and then pay for it—Robert Bly
that’s how life works—
choose parenting or not
bold pup over shy one
smiling or sneering
this over that
each choice
shifts the day
shapes our way
no choice is choosing
there is no escape
select with care
you will live it
I don’t judge others
I choose first light
and dove call over
late night and alcohol
I choose the sweet
quiet of home over
beer joints and bluster
a stream of kindness
over sniping and blame
this life, so short
my choice matters
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
resistance
when I feel the noose
of time, when meetings
and appointments loom,
it’s hard to drop in
and down, find the pool
of open unknowing
I have no idea where
to start, the snake
in my belly
coils tight
my mind becomes ice
and words won’t flow
my gaze lifts to the window
first light reveals
the onyx outline of trees,
the doe munching roses
and my world settles down—
shrugging off an outgrown coat
resistance slips to the ground
breath frees up,
snake falls sleep,
I become
tree, air, burgeoning light
deer and fragrant flower
mind melts into poem
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
This was a fifteen-minute unedited write in a workshop
with Rosemary Wahtola Trommer
I am
I am brave
I am a cowardly mess
I love the truth
the truth terrifies me
yet I yearn to turn toward it
I am a poet
I have failed poetry
what is a poet, anyway?
I am multitudes
I am very small and alone
I am a student of life
I am a teacher of life
in every moment,
life teaches me
all of these avowals
are true
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
compass
it takes a deeper quiet
essential for my life
to find my inner compass
the one that won’t delude
but it’s not enough to spot it
I must decode its guidance
listen to its wisdom
then respond
there’s the rub
it’s ruthless in its pointing
I was not misled
to think it would be easy
that pledge was never made—
it stripped away defenses
allowed me my mistakes
but there’s a grace
I must concede—
like a border collie
nipping at my heels
it drove me always
toward what’s true
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
uncertainty
our days are filled
with uncertainty
that’s the edge
for all of us
we just don’t know
the sun seems
to rise every day
but, scientists say
one morning it won’t
big trouble
I doubt
we’ll be here by then
we’re successfully
killing ourselves off
but I don’t know
marvels happen
every day
the next baby born
might save our world
cool the fever
of rising degrees
but who will be left?
sun-loving creatures
the meerkats?
the hippos?
this is for sure
after we’re gone
knowing will shine
blazing awake
and aware
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
from darkness
as first light skims
the sky, I consider
how we birth
from dark
what a shock light
must be for the infant
as her mother finally
pushes her free
she is caught
by a stranger, then
cut from her source
with a snip of the cord
dark’s comfort vanished
warm sea washed away
where is her refuge now?
no wonder she cries
imagine bewilderment
as new systems begin
lungs fill and empty
for the very first time
she squints and blinks
in this startling world
filled with loud sounds
and smells and sights
as she lies skin to skin
stroked and soothed
by her mother’s first touch
a new passage
from darkness to light
and one into two
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
entanglement
ablaze with gaudy
aloe vera, their
bright sherbet flowers
asking hummingbirds
to sip—over the decade
one plant became ten
behind, an outburst
of iris, delicate and fancy
stand in dawn’s light
begging for bees
we’re all entangled
needing each other
a delicate balance
that calls for repair
none stands alone
independent of others
plants and animals know
without knowing—
it’s coded within
bury an acorn here
another there
squirrels sow forests
without thinking
thinking’s the problem
root cause of the trouble
if I presume myself
separate
then I am—the cosmos
reflects comprehension
instead
let’s celebrate the tangle
that weaves us together
honor the kinship
that binds
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
toy squeaks
to the left of my desk chair
a rhythmic squeaking
my un-housetrained pup
is gnawing her starman—
soft and five-pointed
the fourth dog to work it
she discovered the squeaker
last night in her crate
smart girl
no starman at bedtime
my rhythm’s been broken
and quiet is shattered
I’ll write with distraction
until she matures—
but here is the upside
she’s a sweet cuddlebug
I’ll trade some months
of disorder
for a decade of affection
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
the heart of the matter 