I hear you soaring

“What is buried in the past of one generation falls to the next to claim.”

– Susan Griffin

 

I hear you soaring

I know why

The caged bird sings

I know her songs

Her voice

Clear, pure, painfully true

She sings of things

Nice girls don’t talk about

She tells family secrets

Her eyes shine brightly

A beacon for other birds

She exposes herself

Her cage gilded and ornate

Sits by a large picture window

Her heart heavy

Her wings ache

To fully expand

And fly free

The people who put food

In her cage each day

Say they are protecting her

From the animals,

Elements and the hunter’s gun

They kill her

Softly

Her songs more urgent

They bring others

To show her off

This prized possession

They cannot possess

Her Song

She has flown over

White capped mountains

And wave tossed ships at sea

She wept as she flew lowly

Across the killing fields

And sang sweetly

Names of the unknown

As she soared over rainbows

And as she rested on the oak branch

Their net brought her down

Trapped in a cage

For the people to gawk at

For purchase

To own

You can cage the songbird

You cannot own her

Her song is free

I know why

The caged bird

Sings

Bisous,

Léa

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Meditations on Friendship

“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.”
– Albert Schweitzer

Written after being invited in for tea at Rita’s …

She lives her days and nights in the cooler part of town

Coaxing life out of clay, fabric and wood

Her long flowing robes announce she will not cave in

To the demands of fashion

Better homes and gardens do not call for a photo shoot

Too many books, movies, cd’s and collections

Too many bits and pieces waiting to be conscripted

Into her next masterpiece

We all have but a few precious days in this incarnation

She chooses differently than many

Did I tell you she is wise?

Travel is her opium and she will have it

Feeding her habit in far away lands

She knows the beauty of each different face

Raising the chalice of adventure and drinking her fill

I sing delirious from the exposure

Her mantra – the eternal YES!

French café beat, the rhythm thunders through her

A meditation in dance

Bisous,

Léa

Birds of Prey – Saigon

This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.
– Dalai Lama

birds of prey

the priest and huyen

sit across from the dying mother-in-law

tham, she is Buddhist

and afraid

they smell the rotting meat

of fear

tham is afraid to die

the priest –  eager to convert her

in her time of fear

they hover eagerly

will she take their bait?

a precaution added insurance for

her journey

leaving it behind

whatever use it might be

discarded in a heap with silken pajamas

left behind

as she crosses through the final exit

what remains of 53 years

of traditions

rituals handed down

from her ancestors

will they pick those

bones clean

they chant as they recite the beads

and count her among those caught

in their net

Bisous,

Léa

“image is everything”: literary sensibilites

“All good and true book-lovers practice the pleasing and improving avocation of reading in bed … No book can be appreciated until it has been slept with and dreamed over.”
― Eugene Field, The Love Affairs of a Bibliomaniac

literary sensibilites

if image is “everything”

does that not judge

the book by the cover

so many books

have nestled snugly

in my grip

from the tattered

paperback

to the pristine

hardback

in a designer

jacket

truth be told

the smoothly worn

paperback

well loved by

a previous reader

dog-eared pages

notes penciled in

make it evident

the love shared

with another reader

kindle be dammed

intimacy with words

demands pages I can turn

kindle will not

soak up my tears

nor dribbles of café

and will not sit quietly

on a shelf

awaiting discovery by

future generations

it will lie in a landfill

with other toxic “disposables”

a casualty to latest technology

bisous,

léa

GOP Psalms

Going into an election year, one quote will not do! While the poem is an older one, and the names may have changed, it is certainly relevant.

“Individual rights are not subject to a public vote; a majority has no right to vote away the rights of a minority; the political function of rights is precisely to protect minorities from oppression by majorities (and the smallest minority on earth is the individual.”

– Ayn Rand

And last but far from least:

“Throughout history, it has been the inaction of those who could have acted; the indifference of those who should have known better; the silence of the voice of justice when it mattered most; that has made it possible for evil to triumph.”

– Haile Selassie

GOP Psalms

Bush is my Shepard

I shall know want

He maketh me lie down

On park benches

He polluteth pristine waters

He eulogizes family values

For re-election sake

Yea-

Though I walk through the valley

Of unemployment

And education cutbacks

I fear no evil

Clarence Thomas art with me

He shields me with sailors

They hooketh my tail

He leadeth me past still photos

For Helms sake

He anointeth desert sands

With blood

For mid-east oil

He enriches elitist coffers

Surely embezzlement and fraud

Shall follow him

All the days of his incumbency

And I shall dwell in the kitchen

Barefoot and pregnant forever

Bisous,

Léa

Mind’s eye

“The first casualty when war comes is truth.”

-Hiram Johnson

Mind’s eye

My father fought

A war

Years before

My birth

As I grew up

I watched him

Fight it

Again and again

His sinewy hands

Trembled

As he pried apart

Venetian blinds

Scouting the enemy invasion

Of our suburban neighborhood

Armed with a bottle of juice

A newspaper

Or any other munitions

At hand

He held his ground

Paralyzed

By his reality

 

Bisous,

– Léa

Motivation

“Insane people are always sure that they are fine. It is only the sane people who are willing to admit that they are crazy.”
-Nora Ephron

(Commentary on a relationship)

Motivation

Being with you

Reminds me of an experiment

In stimulation

– Sensory deprivation