Monday, June 24, 2013
Monday, June 17, 2013
Myself's Self
I desire to move beyond surface.
I wish to surf the turbulent rage of forget, stuffed punishingly into the safe of self denial, where it beats against the iron walls, sobbing of
Its demise.
I move, fearlessly, lifting the perfection mask of invulnerable, to find, there, desire, and need, and appetite, intertwined in a silent twist of Life's Treasured,
held close and fiercely against a Heart from which it is torn, mocked.
I seek to disturb, in the doing, awakening life and age in a perpetual vacuum of Success, jolted by Love, and I am
Joined, finally, by a throb alien to me, that is my
Heartbeat.
It strokes me, speaking my name, in a voice known to Stars, and Stares, having washed itself clean of
Perceived Invulnerability, and says, softly, that
it loves me.
I feel it does, and embrace it, discovering a man finite and spirit, intermingled, moaning of torn moments and shredded possibles.
He knows me, and is afraid, despite the
Ragged Kiss, having waited for
Agonies.
Dawn M. Nevills, June 17, 2013.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Happy Father's Day, Sunday, June 16, 2013
Dear Dad,
I was going to write a poem: something with a clever ABAB rhyming scheme, referencing ageless virtues, stalwart natures, adventurous spirits, determined loyalty....all good and true, interspersed with a sense of all-too-human self doubt, and the gentle humility and enclosure of a 50-year marriage to my loving, funny, and wonderful, mother.
I was going to talk about all of those things, because they remain the example of a kind and good man; a man who, with his equally kind wife, provided - and continues to provide - an example of something priceless: reliability.
No matter how tired you were, you got up in the morning, Dad, and went to work. As Keanu Reeves said, about someone HE admired, in a piece of writing I read, "you showed up".
I've driven through blizzards and pinched my cheeks pink and awake, to follow that example, when we had a 20% call-off on the work floor with the flu....and all really sick. I was well - and I "showed up", too. I still try to, no matter how much I'd rather be somewhere else. I realize, as I grow older, what a rarity that quality really is.
No matter how difficult or challenging finances were...you found the money for school pictures.
No matter how much you thought that the quiet, steady, flash-of-humour, rapier wit, firmly principled example went unnoticed in a world of glamourous, violent, medalled men, you won what no other man, medalled or otherwise, could have: the love, respect, and abiding gratefulness of children who love you - and, in my case, respect for your humanity, imperfection, and striving for a better self in all of us. A quiet Wordsworth ran through every outlook and perspective you shared. There is no medal for this - only us, your children, as a legacy of those moments.
There are no awards for these things, really, save the knowledge that no matter how daunting the day seemed, no matter what other men said, did, went, perpetrated, spoke of, or presumed, the simplicity of a man who loved, cared for, supported, and encouraged his Family, will remain with me Forever.
Other men have failed me, Dad; in example, reliability, love, and concern; and although you never pretended to be perfect - warned me against presuming anyone was, in fact, least of all, you - I saw a man with a quiet fierceness whose kindness was - and is - along with the love he has for a careful group of people - real, whose encouragement for a fiercely independent daughter was equally real, and whose curiousity and adventurous spirit took my mother to far off places, and made friends throughout a still hopeful World. I see a glow of love, after almost fifty years of marriage, that hints of some real warmth - good and bad - but always honest.
Thank you for your working spirit; thank you for your caution to rest, too; thank you for the urging of the quiet step back - which came in handy in dangerous places - along with the firm tone, the bantering, the awkwardness and the rough affection, (since I wasn't a boy, and sometimes it must have been tough to have all of those deep discussions about uncomfortable things that I wanted answers to, no matter how embarassing) since it was always something wondrous and inspiring: Genuine.......like you.
Thank you for the ability to consider, and change, and grow, as a human being. Thank you for assuring me that what I viewed as "successful" was not weird, compared to other women.
Thank you for every day more I am blessed with these loving gifts, and a Dad who thinks that what I have to say, and think, and dream of, and try to do, are of equal importance, in a sometimes brutish, and ignorant, world.
God Bless you, Daddy, and Happy Father's Day.
Love,
Your Daughter. xo
I was going to write a poem: something with a clever ABAB rhyming scheme, referencing ageless virtues, stalwart natures, adventurous spirits, determined loyalty....all good and true, interspersed with a sense of all-too-human self doubt, and the gentle humility and enclosure of a 50-year marriage to my loving, funny, and wonderful, mother.
I was going to talk about all of those things, because they remain the example of a kind and good man; a man who, with his equally kind wife, provided - and continues to provide - an example of something priceless: reliability.
No matter how tired you were, you got up in the morning, Dad, and went to work. As Keanu Reeves said, about someone HE admired, in a piece of writing I read, "you showed up".
I've driven through blizzards and pinched my cheeks pink and awake, to follow that example, when we had a 20% call-off on the work floor with the flu....and all really sick. I was well - and I "showed up", too. I still try to, no matter how much I'd rather be somewhere else. I realize, as I grow older, what a rarity that quality really is.
No matter how difficult or challenging finances were...you found the money for school pictures.
No matter how much you thought that the quiet, steady, flash-of-humour, rapier wit, firmly principled example went unnoticed in a world of glamourous, violent, medalled men, you won what no other man, medalled or otherwise, could have: the love, respect, and abiding gratefulness of children who love you - and, in my case, respect for your humanity, imperfection, and striving for a better self in all of us. A quiet Wordsworth ran through every outlook and perspective you shared. There is no medal for this - only us, your children, as a legacy of those moments.
There are no awards for these things, really, save the knowledge that no matter how daunting the day seemed, no matter what other men said, did, went, perpetrated, spoke of, or presumed, the simplicity of a man who loved, cared for, supported, and encouraged his Family, will remain with me Forever.
Other men have failed me, Dad; in example, reliability, love, and concern; and although you never pretended to be perfect - warned me against presuming anyone was, in fact, least of all, you - I saw a man with a quiet fierceness whose kindness was - and is - along with the love he has for a careful group of people - real, whose encouragement for a fiercely independent daughter was equally real, and whose curiousity and adventurous spirit took my mother to far off places, and made friends throughout a still hopeful World. I see a glow of love, after almost fifty years of marriage, that hints of some real warmth - good and bad - but always honest.
Thank you for your working spirit; thank you for your caution to rest, too; thank you for the urging of the quiet step back - which came in handy in dangerous places - along with the firm tone, the bantering, the awkwardness and the rough affection, (since I wasn't a boy, and sometimes it must have been tough to have all of those deep discussions about uncomfortable things that I wanted answers to, no matter how embarassing) since it was always something wondrous and inspiring: Genuine.......like you.
Thank you for the ability to consider, and change, and grow, as a human being. Thank you for assuring me that what I viewed as "successful" was not weird, compared to other women.
Thank you for every day more I am blessed with these loving gifts, and a Dad who thinks that what I have to say, and think, and dream of, and try to do, are of equal importance, in a sometimes brutish, and ignorant, world.
God Bless you, Daddy, and Happy Father's Day.
Love,
Your Daughter. xo
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Happy Coronation Day!
Congratulations to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, with an astounding - and ongoing! - record of service to others, who celebrates the anniversary of her Coronation Day, today.
With the spirit of that very fine example in heart and mind, I hope you did something for someone else today that changed their world for the better - even in a small way.
Perhaps you brightened their world by making your neighbourhood prettier; perhaps it was "Good Morning" on a tired walk to work; whatever small gesture or kindness, celebrate the secret that is the sacred between Crown and Cared for: trying to do good, when it appears it doesn't seem to matter.....it does, to someone, still.
......and if you did nothing today - there's always tomorrow! You just never know how the smallest thing might make a difference that stays with a person for their whole lives.....or even one small, wonderful moment. They all matter.
God Bless and Happy Day!
Dawn.
With the spirit of that very fine example in heart and mind, I hope you did something for someone else today that changed their world for the better - even in a small way.
Perhaps you brightened their world by making your neighbourhood prettier; perhaps it was "Good Morning" on a tired walk to work; whatever small gesture or kindness, celebrate the secret that is the sacred between Crown and Cared for: trying to do good, when it appears it doesn't seem to matter.....it does, to someone, still.
......and if you did nothing today - there's always tomorrow! You just never know how the smallest thing might make a difference that stays with a person for their whole lives.....or even one small, wonderful moment. They all matter.
God Bless and Happy Day!
Dawn.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Delayed
In a snap of winter ice, spring pauses, sigh hand bracing,
And breathes a last thought of frozen Past.
Like all Fire and Ice moments, it is enough to live it, knowing.
...and I, harbinger of its Fears and Flames, Snaps and Snows, Ice Sleeps and Sorrows,
Speak the language of
Fierce eyes in the
Dark,
Drawing in my breath,
Sharply.
And breathes a last thought of frozen Past.
Like all Fire and Ice moments, it is enough to live it, knowing.
...and I, harbinger of its Fears and Flames, Snaps and Snows, Ice Sleeps and Sorrows,
Speak the language of
Fierce eyes in the
Dark,
Drawing in my breath,
Sharply.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Monday, May 13, 2013
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Mother .....and her day.
What if I am a rib? I would have you think of me as more than mere cage.
Even if I am only one, then - and only, now, understood, of this tree and rock and shale and sky, schooled - I nurture, still;
Tending to my wounds, scar upon scar, star upon star, standing sentinel,
The milk of my tears is mixed with blood and carbon, trying, trying, trying.....
Mixed and mean, unexpectedly kind, swift and salient......vessel, and vassal, and voice.
I am blamed, blameless, and burdened, and bear it, fiercely.
I am the dignity of all tried and true.
I see the smaller selves, ardent and searching, bird mouths, eyes closed, and flying;
Homing and corded, invisible threads of my heart, riding upon air and thought and hopes.
I remember the moments of their forming; the breathed and breathed into; the sigh, and the met, rounded;
I feel again, water's rhythm, forming, and joining, swimming into themselves, and each other, beautifully;
Endless dance of completed,
Exquisite pain, forgotten;
Replete and joyous, in the
New.
I am now, and ago, and, though bereft of more of me, in these cyclical days of ending and passing through,
Dreaming, still,
of my
Other...
You.
Even if I am only one, then - and only, now, understood, of this tree and rock and shale and sky, schooled - I nurture, still;
Tending to my wounds, scar upon scar, star upon star, standing sentinel,
The milk of my tears is mixed with blood and carbon, trying, trying, trying.....
Mixed and mean, unexpectedly kind, swift and salient......vessel, and vassal, and voice.
I am blamed, blameless, and burdened, and bear it, fiercely.
I am the dignity of all tried and true.
I see the smaller selves, ardent and searching, bird mouths, eyes closed, and flying;
Homing and corded, invisible threads of my heart, riding upon air and thought and hopes.
I remember the moments of their forming; the breathed and breathed into; the sigh, and the met, rounded;
I feel again, water's rhythm, forming, and joining, swimming into themselves, and each other, beautifully;
Endless dance of completed,
Exquisite pain, forgotten;
Replete and joyous, in the
New.
I am now, and ago, and, though bereft of more of me, in these cyclical days of ending and passing through,
Dreaming, still,
of my
Other...
You.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Current
We hide our appetites, embarassed into denial,
Age mocking our knowledge of our slow demise.
Screaming against the passage of Time, we politely acknowledge the minutes and moments
As they glance at us, through us, amidst us,
And we are ignited with the recognition of
Life, unextinguished.
I would have lived many such selves as were given to me, kindly,
If only I had spent a fraction of the lost levees
Upon a soul that truly loved
My fierceness.
And what is love? To know, to see, to feel, to quench an appetite;
To slake and forgive it; to stoke and stroke it into being,
Relaxed in its glow, secret and sighing in its Adoring;
Having known it as
Expressed and Closed,
At last.
Age mocking our knowledge of our slow demise.
Screaming against the passage of Time, we politely acknowledge the minutes and moments
As they glance at us, through us, amidst us,
And we are ignited with the recognition of
Life, unextinguished.
I would have lived many such selves as were given to me, kindly,
If only I had spent a fraction of the lost levees
Upon a soul that truly loved
My fierceness.
And what is love? To know, to see, to feel, to quench an appetite;
To slake and forgive it; to stoke and stroke it into being,
Relaxed in its glow, secret and sighing in its Adoring;
Having known it as
Expressed and Closed,
At last.
Seconds
Wish away these baser things, in this modern age.
Witness the blossoming of my mind, expanding amidst all the horizons of sky travelled,
And see, whisked and wandering, stroked forearms, cilia springing, creating.
Awakened thusly, amidst seasons of springtime flushed and floundering,
Awkward youth remembering,
Renewal scoffs at all that is cruel in this life,
And, mocking flesh and numbered past,
I am reminded of when I sought spring.
Oh, that I had once thought no one wanted my self self's to scream silently of living!
Ragged whispers imagined, all the appetites of carbon dating stressed tools notwithstanding,
I defy Time.
Witness the blossoming of my mind, expanding amidst all the horizons of sky travelled,
And see, whisked and wandering, stroked forearms, cilia springing, creating.
Awakened thusly, amidst seasons of springtime flushed and floundering,
Awkward youth remembering,
Renewal scoffs at all that is cruel in this life,
And, mocking flesh and numbered past,
I am reminded of when I sought spring.
Oh, that I had once thought no one wanted my self self's to scream silently of living!
Ragged whispers imagined, all the appetites of carbon dating stressed tools notwithstanding,
I defy Time.
Alliterated
I am blocked by distance;
Voided by the chasm of miles;
Starved by the absence of your mouth,
Speaking my name.
In the life of "Ahead", I am Captain, Still,
Manoevering the valueless ticks of Time
Which I see as small flits of Light and Life
Buoyed by my Heart.
Spent thus, it is a Cadence Clear, which,Steered so,
is the syllabus of syllables, sounding clearly;
And each note and sound are
My Eyes,
Speaking.
Voided by the chasm of miles;
Starved by the absence of your mouth,
Speaking my name.
In the life of "Ahead", I am Captain, Still,
Manoevering the valueless ticks of Time
Which I see as small flits of Light and Life
Buoyed by my Heart.
Spent thus, it is a Cadence Clear, which,Steered so,
is the syllabus of syllables, sounding clearly;
And each note and sound are
My Eyes,
Speaking.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
To Be Loved
What has this life demanded of us,
That we cannot recognize, in an instant,
When ourselves are ourselves, again, met?
It happens, despite death - perhaps because of it,
Knowing that that word - death - is one we have made,
Mocking that which made us, even beyond ourselves,
Being more than ourselves, having Promised.
We can only breathe, and touch, thinking;
Or, barring that, or beyond that, speak to the other;
Sing to the other;
Form words for the other;
So that they speak as we would have them speak,
Having formed the answers in our heads
A thousand, thousand times.
Then, robbed of the corporeal enclosures of each other, for the moment,
We are simply
Thought of, and Known
Completely.
We weep, and smile, refreshed; aggrieved, relieved.....perceived.
It is then we understand the dust, blown into Being, at last, from Love.
Oh, Love, Love!
What a love, needing more!
What a song, and a Joy, and a sudden calm!
It is rare, when we know vessel, are of Vessel, perceive Vassal, are of a Cup,
and yet, can be, and Be, and .....exist.
Filled with this Sense, we are calm, and Fierce, and loved
In the mists of uncertainty which cloud the forlorn and angry,
Having known nothing beyond
Atom, given its moments with great Care, and treasuring them in this Life, as never before.
.
That we cannot recognize, in an instant,
When ourselves are ourselves, again, met?
It happens, despite death - perhaps because of it,
Knowing that that word - death - is one we have made,
Mocking that which made us, even beyond ourselves,
Being more than ourselves, having Promised.
We can only breathe, and touch, thinking;
Or, barring that, or beyond that, speak to the other;
Sing to the other;
Form words for the other;
So that they speak as we would have them speak,
Having formed the answers in our heads
A thousand, thousand times.
Then, robbed of the corporeal enclosures of each other, for the moment,
We are simply
Thought of, and Known
Completely.
We weep, and smile, refreshed; aggrieved, relieved.....perceived.
It is then we understand the dust, blown into Being, at last, from Love.
Oh, Love, Love!
What a love, needing more!
What a song, and a Joy, and a sudden calm!
It is rare, when we know vessel, are of Vessel, perceive Vassal, are of a Cup,
and yet, can be, and Be, and .....exist.
Filled with this Sense, we are calm, and Fierce, and loved
In the mists of uncertainty which cloud the forlorn and angry,
Having known nothing beyond
Atom, given its moments with great Care, and treasuring them in this Life, as never before.
.
Imagining "Let there Be"...and we, too imagine Lights and Love.
Incandescent rumble, rhythm of life, shaking, shaking, shaking
Yet in the foundations of self, knowing the moment
of
Perception Thought
that is Being, and
Fearing Not.
How so? whene'er air, within, without, in large space clearing forth
Clouded cloud, shaking moves anew
Being, renewing
Itself.
Oh the cloudless, blameless Sky,
We see such a huge canvas, and
Marvel at the
Greatest Artist,
Moving Heav'n and Atom
in such a mold
As
Beyond Hands,
Thought of.
We can only think of carboned made, but know, still. It is Enough....for now.
Breath has moved it,
Gently reminding - not awkward facsimiles of enormous effort.
See! and See! and See!
Only Imagined.....
Is!
This is Joy.
Oh, mind mine! What manner of evil shall take it from Me,
Says I.....says I's own, too, and then, to wound Us further,
promising nothing but
Envy at
Utter?
Ah, no matter....they matter, and it is enough.
Again....sing into now, again.
Yet in the foundations of self, knowing the moment
of
Perception Thought
that is Being, and
Fearing Not.
How so? whene'er air, within, without, in large space clearing forth
Clouded cloud, shaking moves anew
Being, renewing
Itself.
Oh the cloudless, blameless Sky,
We see such a huge canvas, and
Marvel at the
Greatest Artist,
Moving Heav'n and Atom
in such a mold
As
Beyond Hands,
Thought of.
We can only think of carboned made, but know, still. It is Enough....for now.
Breath has moved it,
Gently reminding - not awkward facsimiles of enormous effort.
See! and See! and See!
Only Imagined.....
Is!
This is Joy.
Oh, mind mine! What manner of evil shall take it from Me,
Says I.....says I's own, too, and then, to wound Us further,
promising nothing but
Envy at
Utter?
Ah, no matter....they matter, and it is enough.
Again....sing into now, again.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Paint and Petals
Today is a new day.
When the bird song reminds me of the hour, I will think it, again;
Think of new thoughts; dream of new dreams;
Speak and sing a world away, but present, and bring our secret moment world closer to the heart that dreamed it,
Hoping.
I shall build in mind a thousand, thousand petalled lights, so that they shine with such a gleam
Your eyes will catch their glimmer, and glow, warmed, and earnest.
My fierce garden of new lights, gleaming, will grow, and grow, and your gaze will
Make a thousand flowers, newly nestled, strive to bloom,
Seeing in them, my wave, and my wander,
Scattering errant beauty like some wild and wooly
Monet of Emily Carr, on fire,
Smiling..
When the bird song reminds me of the hour, I will think it, again;
Think of new thoughts; dream of new dreams;
Speak and sing a world away, but present, and bring our secret moment world closer to the heart that dreamed it,
Hoping.
I shall build in mind a thousand, thousand petalled lights, so that they shine with such a gleam
Your eyes will catch their glimmer, and glow, warmed, and earnest.
My fierce garden of new lights, gleaming, will grow, and grow, and your gaze will
Make a thousand flowers, newly nestled, strive to bloom,
Seeing in them, my wave, and my wander,
Scattering errant beauty like some wild and wooly
Monet of Emily Carr, on fire,
Smiling..
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