Category Archives: Poetry

Poetry’s One Language: Taliesin in New Mexico

by Thomas Davis

Taliesin walked a sparse wood.
Pink and white stones sheered into cliffs.
This was not the wild seacoast where clerics and bards warred,
declaiming words of power,
but a land as dry as Job’s tongue:
“Where shall wisdom be found?”

The bard had stood on a black rock jutting into sea-fury.
He had called mists and forest spirits,
swarming to gestures and words like ghostly raiments,
then walked through a shimmering gate into sweltering skies.
Standing below a tall, red cliff, he sent his spirit
across a dry land and walked,
feeling poetry falter in the great silence.

On a sandstone table he stopped and stared at hairy black spiders.
A thousand scuttled across the red stone in frenzy.
He could not understand spider’s movement’s language.
He could not feel poetry’s spirit ebb and flow
where no coracle boats or sailing ships plied waves.

He studied a turquoise juniper tree’s green flame
and tried to feel how such small trees could walk,
but they seemed rooted in fields of pink and white stone.

Taliesin trudged with his staff through a long day.
Sun blazed; a horned moon, waxing, rose.
The bard’s heart shuddered.

How was he to escape a land where poetry was tenuous?
Where no selkie dived beneath waves into seaweed forests?

He listened: Women’s voices elegant and wild with frenzy –
Men speaking words as strange as the landscape.

A red wolf howled beneath stars and horned moon.
A cold wind blew.
Pinyon, pine, and juniper branches danced and sang.

The bard smiled and raised arms out of his brown robe.
He spoke poetry’s one language to night sky, trees, and wind.

A black rock jutted into a foaming, wind-driven sea.

Note: The is a rewrite of a poem posted a long time ago.

2 Comments

Filed under poems, Poetry, Thomas Davis

Forgiveness

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Before you come
into the wilderness
you must leave
your anger and hate
behind you.

You must open your heart
and extend your arms

before you can see
the new ground-cover plants
whose leaves feel
like a baby’s skin.

Look!
A yellow swallowtail.

She is leading us
through the shaded trees
and wants us to follow.

6 Comments

Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry, Uncategorized

Freedom

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

When I was young
I yearned for a pony,
a brown, bushy-maned,
fast-stepping pony:

One that I could let
have his head
and taste what freedom
really was.

When I was older,
I told everyone
I was going to marry
a man from the West
that owned a horse ranch.

Now I’m getting too old
to ride horses,
but can watch herds
of wild horses
in the West —

if they can keep
from getting caught
and made slaves out of;
they are the freest
of all horses,

like birds
who are the freest
of us all.

6 Comments

Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry

Spotted Pony

a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis

IMG_0360

7 Comments

Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry

The Weirding Storm is Published!

The Weirding Storm, A Dragon Epic has been published by Bennison Books. It is now available at amazon.com.

The U.S. Amazon address is:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/099900770X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1495812510&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Weirding+Storm

The address for Bennison Books, a UK publisher, is:  https://bennisonbooks.com.

I am hoping that anyone who purchases the book from Amazon, either U.S. or U.K. Amazon, will also review the book.  That helps publicize it in the amazon universe.

I am really excited about this publication.  Bennison Books publishes some of my favorite poets and to be part of their stable with one of the best books I have ever written gives me an euphoric feeling.  I hope some of you will be willing to be transported to another world where dragons and humans still co-exist along with witches, warriors, and battles, to paraphrase Terence Winch, one of the U.S.’s greatest poets.

14 Comments

Filed under poems, Poetry, Published Books, The Dragon Epic, Thomas Davis

In the Time of the Black Snake

by Thomas Davis
an irrelgular sonnet

The buffalo come stomping, snorting, blowing.
The blizzard howls like old men throwing fits
Of rage against the way their bones are creaking
Into another year, arthritis stirring
Up aches so harsh their anger steals their wits.

Snow crusts on dark hides, slows their stamping, singing
Until the universe becomes a song
Protesting how long drills drill into earth,
Into the heart of who the peoples long
To be inside the spirit of their birth,
Inside the breaths that make them who they are,
A being on the earth made from the star-
Stuff spun into the dance against the snake,
The warriors singing as they stomp and shake.

8 Comments

Filed under poems, Poetry, Thomas Davis

Captured Memory

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

We are going
to a movie
in Minneapolis.
He spoke.

Brokeback Mountain
is showing,
he grinned.

A willing mother,
surrounded by a sea
of young men,

A twinkling
In his eye —

a captured memory
in a wind of thoughts.

8 Comments

Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry