Today at 10:06am
I found him
belly up
only a little bloated
water his deep
dark grave.
Turn the bucket
over
Talk gently
“How long have you been
in here, friend?”
Turn him over
his final rest
decomposing leaves,
Poison Ivy canopy
Sets off the blue
Today at 10:06am
I found him
belly up
only a little bloated
water his deep
dark grave.
Turn the bucket
over
Talk gently
“How long have you been
in here, friend?”
Turn him over
his final rest
decomposing leaves,
Poison Ivy canopy
Sets off the blue

Gratitude to the FAR community for welcoming my poems as of April of this year. Various earlier poems have been my way of introducing myself.
My work as a poet and composer has been centered around welcoming the reemergence of the Goddess in all Her forms. So this time I’ve submitted two poems referring to two of the many Goddesses who have influenced my life so profoundly.
Ix Chel is a Mayan Goddess of childbirth, midwifery, medicine and the moon. She has been especially honored and featured in artwork and sculpture on the Isle of Women (Isla Mujeres) in Mexico. She appeared to me in Her aspect as a young woman, the Jaguar Woman. In my mind’s eye, I associated Ix Chel with my beautiful son Peter who passed away in 2004, imagining them living joyously together in the Otherworld. Thanks to Deb Pollard for showing all aspects of the Moon above our heads as we sleep.
My second poem was born on a trip through the just-blooming peach orchards of South Carolina. A vision came to me of the Peach Maidens reaching out over millennia to the young priestesses of ancient Crete, dancing in celebration of each other’s beauty. And also sharing of their truth-telling and hard-earned wisdom.
Continue reading “Woman of the Isle of Women by Annelinde Metzner”What can I say about guns?
I want to be like Gabby Giffords and survive
I want to be Emma Gonzalez and fight back
I want to be
I want to talk about how GUNS are less regulated
than my body
Guns can leave any state and travel to another state
and kill someone
I hate talking about guns
Continue reading ““Guns: The Sanctity of Life” by Marie Cartier”Spirits of the Forest

In Forest Presence
I listen,
leaves
and needles rustle
Voices
Hum inside
Hemlock bark
sounding
if only humans
would listen
Incantations
erupt beneath
the forest floor
wrapped
in a tapestry of threads
millions of miles
of white
cottony intentions
interevntions?
made manifest
by Raven and
Owl
Continue reading “Three poems by Sara Wright”
Bittersweet orange
invokes wounding
past torment endured
at the hands of those
who would harm.
Air is lightened,
cleansed by absence
Trees rejoice
Slaughter shifts perspective
Despair presses Diamond.
Fritillary seeks
her flower
lover in waiting
Tongue seeking.
Continue reading “Butterfly Wounding by Sara Wright”I’ve been told that most children in the United States learn to write haiku in third grade. At the very least they learn that haiku is a traditional poetic art form using seventeen syllables divided into lines of 5 – 7 – 5. The idea is to capture a moment in time. The famous Japanese poet/priest, Issa (1763-1828), focused on creating haiku using his love for nature in the process.
I did not grow up in the American school system, so it wasn’t until I took an undergraduate Zen Buddhism course that I learned to appreciate and have fun with creating this particular kind of poetry.
In the following haiku, I try to capture the moment I experienced the natural scene in front of me. Taking a photograph and then writing an accompanying haiku can be a meditative exercise. I keep striving to make that exercise a daily happening.

I need an abortion and I can’t get one
Because I don’t have the money to fly somewhere else other than …here
Where I can’t get one
I need an abortion and I can’t get one
Because the kid, or the cells of a maybe kid, were put in here by the guy that raped me and if I have to have it, I will kill myself
I need an abortion and I can’t get one
Because I have four kids already and I can’t feed another one
I need an abortion and I can’t get one
Because it’s my dad’s…did you hear me say that? I have never said that. I have never said what he does to me…and now I have to show everyone… if I can’t get this out of me I will…
I have to get this thing out of me
I need an abortion and I can’t get one
Continue reading “A Chorus of Need: I Need an Abortion by Marie Cartier”
In Maine the 4th of July…The bottom line is that women don’t create the chaos and unbearable noise that men do. It comes to a ‘head on the 4th – a time to create misery for all people who are peace loving – just more indication of the breakdown of our culture… I fear that patriarchy may live on until it destroys all we know.
Refuge (before bombing)
A symphony
of phoebe song
a river of stone
blessed by rain….
Beech leaves beckon,
crystal waters soothe
Hemlocks hum
I am part of
all there is…
Powers that harm
live just next door.
Leaning into Presence

At the forest edge
twigs rustle,
papery leaves
betray
a vision of grace
emerging
from behind
my chair.
Staring intently
liquid coals
will me
to turn…
You nibble
a few grasses
at my feet
without fear.
We meet
on pine strewn paths
or when I trim
cherry or rose
plucking old thorns.
Continue reading “Little Red Deer by Sara Wright”To spend time in nature and deeply connect with Her is to allow enough time for Her surprising wisdom and dreamlike insights to open up for me. I call this “Plein Air Poetry.” It’s a joy to wait in nature and see who connects with me on any given day.
These poems come with the gratitude of very early Spring when Her first shoots and flowers, such as the weeping cherry which birds have planted all over my yard, begin to appear like mysterious veils over winter’s greyness.

Greening April 6, 2022
Suddenly I awaken, early April,
and a diaphanous green veil
has draped over the weeping cherries,
the first to bloom with delicate, drooping grace.