Friday, 2 September 2011

The Warmth of Coffee

(dedicated to Mom and Dad)

It's Spring's first day.  With Winter gone
Shadows are painting my new green lawn.
Memories of childhood have claimed the view.
I'm lost in thought remembring you;

Those Sundays when we came to call,
The way you loved to see us all,
The laughter over cleaning up,
The warmth of coffee in my cup.

© 2011  Pam H. Murray

Close Again

Out of the earth, decades ago,
I used to watch your roses grow,
In awe because you seemed to be
Imbued with an ability

To bring such beauty to our world.
Each Spring, as new buds are uncurled
I feel you standing close again
And hear your voice in April's rain.

© 2011  Pam H. Murray

Battles

On this field a battle fought
By boys turned into men;
So many died, so many maimed,
None dared to dream of when

They'd walk once more through neighborhoods
Where laughing children played
Unaware, in peaceful dreams,
Of sacrifices made.

Yet, in the dark, in pain and tears
Sit mother, wife and son
To mourn the ones who can't come home
From battles fought and won.

© 2011 Pam H. Murray

A Gathering

The sounds of quiet industry
In buildings steeped in history
Surround the little coffee shop
That echoes with the steady drop

Of caffeine as the world slips by.
The Winter clouds have claimed the sky
But here there is a gathering
Of faithful friends who shine like Spring.

© 2011  Pam H. Murray

Out Of Kilter

Somewhere we lost our childhood connection
Severed by stresses that got in the way.
We have forgotten our old dreams and sisters
Stay in our corners with nothing to say.

Now I am staring into the sunset
With images of little girls in the yard
And wonder what magic could make us draw closer.
What happened to sharing what's good and what's sad?

I'm left with the thought that you've never known me
As I, to my sorrow, have never known you.
I am the one who's been left out of kilter
And life's been a shadow I've only passed through.

© 2011  Pam H. Murray

In Dreams

In dreams she feels the dancing of her feet,
The secret longing to be on the floor
With mirrored walls reflecting every beat,
And music everything she's living for.

An audience is not her biggest aim,
But movement that is purest harmony.
Her steps are swift and light, like candle flames.
Each prescious note has set her body free.

But morning comes and she must face the day
Within the confines of her new wheelchair
Listening to the voices that all say
Be brave.  A new world waits for you somewhere.

When all she ever wanted was to dance,
To be an active partner in a song.
Instead she's hurt and will not get the chance
To feel the music carry her along.

© 2011  Pam H. Murray

Thursday, 1 September 2011

A Dream

I walked within a shadow of a dream
Where silver walls arose on either side
And I could not hear voices through the night.
I couldn’t find a place where I could hide.

I heard you sing but couldn’t find a door
To bring me to a place where company
Would ease the weariness this dream world held.
I called your name, but when you answered me

Your words did not make sense and so I fled
Into a hidden corridor of fears
When morning slipped into my silent room
And you were there to soothe away my tears.

© 2010 Pam H. Murray

Migrating Sparrows


As morning stroked its light across the sky
And any dream I had began to die
All senses woke to smell, to sight and sound.
I watched the shadows leave earth’s hallowed ground

And coming through the trees I heard the wind
That led the leaves in dance. As they were spinned
I thought of children going back to school,
No longer sure about life’s golden rule.

Though life seems changed, it circles back again
As surely as the seasons bring the rain.
I let the memories wash over me,
Migrating sparrows that I now set free.

For, freeing them, the memories will stay
In graceful flight and never far away.
I'll have them dancing for a little while,
Each with a shout of laughter or a smile.

© 2007 Pam H. Murray

Earth and Body


The stain of morning bled across my lawn,
Collected in the shadows, then was gone.

A hummingbird was hovering nearby.

I likened it to sunbeams or a sigh.


It stayed for just a moment, then fled too;
This moment chosen from a very few

Brought an ancient dream of wilderness

Making life bestow a soft caress.


I closed my eyes and let it swallow me
And, with consumption, noticed solemnly

That time is but a kingdom of the soul

As earth and body join to make one whole.


© 2007 Pam H. Murray

Tiny Guests

The shadows of a rampant hedge
Mice slipping over window ledge
To find a haven from the night;
Some warmth to nurture ‘til daylight,

Are welcomed by the tiny house
Forgotten in the wilderness.
As quiet ghosts they take small note
Of life’s debris and time’s sad mess.

Instead they find a family
To share the night that’s threatening.
They all find tiny crevices
To dream of a forgotten Spring

As Winter crashes overhead
And trees stand guard against its storm,
Inside the mice enjoy their world.
Each family stays safe and warm.

© 2010 Pam H. Murray

On Autumn's Watch

As Autumn slowly touches Summer leaves
And children gather books then head to school,
The days grow short and we begin to dream
Of Halloween that calls for ghost and ghoul.

The harvest moon rides high and lights the way
To frosty nights with pumpkins on the sill;
To lit fireplace and family safe at home
With apple cider’s warmth against the chill.

© 2010 Pam H. Murra

The Old Elm Tree

In the silent morning mist
I felt her presence overhead
And felt her twisted limbs reach out
Just as the sky was turning red.

She enfolded memories
Of climbing feet and old rope swing,
Of dried birds nests and shadow leaves
And gentle days of early spring.

Though winter held her in its grasp
And silence wrapped her in its shroud,
As night retreated into day
She held herself erect and proud.

© 2010 Pam H. Murray


Forest In The Rain

Look above you as the giants weep
Knowing there are secrets they must keep
Capturing the essence of the rain
And we may not stand this way again,

Sheltered by the mountains that surround,
Steadied by the power of the ground,
Serenaded by the gnats and bees,
Walking under cover of the trees.

Here the night and day pass arm in arm.
Both hold shadows, both hold quiet charm.
Look beneath the needles at your feet,
A single footprint still holds body heat.

Listen for the crack of broken twig
And see the ivy that is still a sprig
Of colour laid against the spruce’s bark,
Another sign where life has left its mark.

Then turn around when it is time to leave.
Where one small seed has landed on your sleeve
A memory will grow for later years
To bring you back to feel the forest tears.
 
© 2010 Pam H. Murray

Crimson Leaves

Today a crimson leaf or two
Appeared high in the maple tree.
A thousand thoughts from older years
Passed quickly through my memory.

The smell of leaves we set ablaze,
Smoke drifting through the neighbourhood,
The costumes from old Halloweens,
The fences on which pumpkins stood,

The frosty mornings, early nights
And children playing after school,
The sprinklers being locked away
Along with every garden tool,

The walks along old country lanes,
Leaves crackling underneath our feet,
The first hot chocolate of the year
As hands and throats thawed in its heat.

Each Autumn was a special time
That turned our thoughts to family
And once again my thoughts return
With crimson leaves upon a tree.
 
© 2010 Pam H. Murray

Nature's Breath

Beneath the trees as shadows fall
And leaves drift down I can’t recall
The city sounds that haunt the day.
I slowly walk in shades of grey.
 
Where last year’s leaves lay thick and dry.
My passing feet cause them to sigh
As if to call back memory
Of days they danced high in the tree.

I stand quite still to catch the sound
Of tiny feet across the ground
And feel a dampness on my skin.
It’s Nature’s breath. I breathe it in.
 
© 2011  Pam H. Murray

No Road Closed Signs

At your encouragement I went
And what a quiet day I spent
In sad reflection of lost time
And all the dreams left in my rhyme.
 
The air was cool and damp today.
I watched the river otters play,
Then watched the clouds shift in a break
That shimmered on the moody lake.

The road closed signs did not intrude.
On foot I sought an interlude
Of water dancing just for me.
You told me it might make me free.

© 2010 Pam H. Murray

Old Tree

Do you feel the whispering
Of winds that pass you by
In constant flight, the vagrant souls
That race across the sky?

Do you know the temperatures
That change from day to day
Cause your first buds and new leaves,
Then crimson shades that frey

To be caught in the wind’s strong pull
And cast upon the ground?
Is that defiance that you shout
With creak and snapping sound?

Should the morning find you laid
In silence on the path,
Fear not, old tree, I’ll sing your song
In spite of winter’s wrath.
 
© 2011 Pam H. Murray

Rain

Moving through the canopy
Above us all
Dropping through my empty soul
You rise and fall

Taking me along with you
Through summer heat.
Endless rhythm you compel
Me with your beat.

Grand renewal for the Earth
I am alive.
Through my saddest moments I
Know I’ll survive

As you cleanse this ancient world
In front of me,
Taking death and making life
Triumphantly.

© 2010 Pam H. Murray

Summer Storm

The angry rain sent rivers down the street
And washed away all remnants of the heat
As thunder shouted orders to the sky
And broken leaves and branches on the fly

Left traces on a stained glass window pane.
My heart beats raced within the pulse of rain
That flattened pansies in a window box
And left a tangled mess of broken stalks.

At, three years old, he gave a shout of joy.
A storm is magic to a little boy
Who's safe and warm with daddy at his side.
He sees adventure, not a need to hide.

© 2010 Pam H. Murray

Summer's Night

She called me to view the harvest moon
As if I didn’t know this month was June.
Reaching from the sky she called my name
Entreating me to come and play a game

Or watch the moonlight dance across the sea
To dip my fingers in its energy
By day she was illusive in her play,
Preferring her world in its shades of grey

And temperatures cooler without sun.
She didn’t care for all the summer’s fun.
Though people only knew her early hours,
She called to me to tempt me with her powers.

© 2010 Pam H. Murray

Fabric of Friendship

Lost in the patterns of grey, black and white
Drifting through friendship in gentle flight
Fabric stretched over a beating heart
Waiting to see where the new paths start

After an absence of flowing years.
Now, in a moment, a window appears
As we meet over a table top
And long years between us begin to drop

Into the laughter and memories,
Faces that only a good friend sees.
It’s good to remember, to meet again
And relive the memories, pieces of grain

Making a garden that we explore,
I’m glad life came knocking upon my door
With an invitation to meet like this,
Joined in a moment I wouldn’t miss.

© 2011 Pam H. Murray


Poet's Note:  (My first impression of the pattern on a blouse was a drifting pattern, like bird flight, a vision I often see when creating poetry. It is a gentle rise and fall like a bird’s journey on shifting winds. The black, grey and white made me feel like soaring through a sky of cloud patterns. Then I soaked up the sensations of friendship and memory surrounding us all, even those of us who’d never met before, and this is what came to mind.)