Poetry Corner – Volume 1

For the inner ear, the voice of the vessel of silence is an embrace
felt by an infinite number of scribes.

It is my wish to offer here an oasis of present day poetic
pens.

Each month i shall invite new poets to breathe with, and they in
turn will bring guests of their own.

Poetry Corner at TIFERET has evolved out of Donna Stein’s
enthusiasm to nurture the spirit of beauty in all its forms.

silent lotus

May 2010 Silent Lotus’ Selected
Poets’

Milner Place

and his guest Larry Jordan

Ivan Granger

and his guest Elizabeth Reninger

Milner Place

corazon paz and the weathered virgin

bunches of dead and dying

flowers lay on the hill

at the feet

of the wooden lady

brought by tired shoes

laboured breathing

a gaudy array

propped against the knees

by concha

donna eulalia’s criada

corazon paz came panting

knelt

before la virgen

placed a water lily

picked in el pozo escondido

its stem

between the toes

through scarlet lips

she berated

the lady

for taking her two children

demanded

that she give them plenty of tamales

an ice cream

each fiesta

went down the hill

with brisk steps

an extra swing

to her hips

crossing the plaza
pozo escondido

you must approach

with slink of puma

through whispering grasses

past vigilant crows

guarding thorns

where a tunnel

will open in magnolias

and the sun

is a far fire beyond

imagining

only then

will you hear the voices

of decisive macaws

smell the lichen

of solitude

discover the colours

of all the faces of water

in the deep pool

bathe

with topaz-eyed

horses

where a moon floats

among water-lilies

beware

you must approach

with slink of puma

Larry Jordan

As Close as That

Mirabel sweeps up

little puffs of dust

into remarkable shapes

of clouds with her strides

up and down the avenues.

I can follow her on sunny days,

the wisps furling to steeple height

then pose and bow—nothing idle

in their come and go.

She swirls balloons

as bulging jowls full of wind,

snapping the ends of a mane.

The gallop is westward,

beyond the headlands.

Hushed to not disturb her

I sit behind an oak

and listen to her talk

with the fish in the creek.

She speaks of her father

and the other side of the world

saying nothing of the sky.

The air gets cool as the light

pales from a passing cloud.

Her voice wavers,

diesels balk, the swallows

shudder in the leaves.

Though still curious,

I too must look away.

Ivan
Granger

The Warbler Knows

The warbler knows

only dawn’s shaft

of light

on her breast.

Forgetting false future

suns, she sings

in no voice

but her own.
Every Shaped Thing

Sighing,

every shaped thing

turns

heavenward.

Your altar

cannot seat

the thousand thousand

idols.

Holding them,

what do you have?

Each gilded god

says:

“I am

impoverished

by the sun.

I can only

point

up.”

Ivan M. Granger is the creator and editor of the Poetry Chaikhana web site, www.Poetry-Chaikhana.com.  He grew up in Oregon and Southern California, and has lived on the island of Maui. He now lives in Colorado with his wife.When asked why he writes poetry, Ivan says, “Poetry has an immediate effect on the mind. The simple act of reading poetry alters thought patterns and the shuttle of the breath. Poetry induces trance. Its words are chant. Its rhythms are drum beats. Its images become the icons of the inner eye. Poetry is more than a description of the sacred experience; it carries the experience itself.”

Elizabeth Reninger

Reflection

dusk is a pink

glow through mist

(soft as the belly-skin

of a newborn)

pencil-thin traces

of mountain ranges

flirt here with a quiet

blue tapestry

a saphire crown

of stars approaching

mingle with the pink

horizon with

something eons

in the making

— delicate

as lace

i call out my

name yearning

for an echo: silence

takes us all

beyond what beauty

has initiated…