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Nature and Peace Poems

Robert J. MacPhee

Nature and Peace Poems

  By

  Robert J. MacPhee

  Published by:

  from

  The Collected Poetry of Robert J. MacPhee

  Copyright©2005 by Robert J.MacPhee

  Dedication

  to

  Louisa

  Acknowledgement

  I wish to thank Louisa MacPhee, my wife, for formatting this collection for publication and for being my technical consultant, and to my daughter Dr. Chantelle MacPhee, Elizabeth City State University for her continuing counsel and support

  Sections

  Flowers

  Violet

  Hollyhock

  Nature

  Nature’s Generosity

  Fingered trees

  Trees

  The leaves

  The willow tree

  A moment

  Light

  High Sol

  Let there be light

  Creatures

  The Snail

  The birds

  Windless flight

  The Butterfly

  Danger!

  Water

  Symbiosis

  Sibling

  Drops

  Places

  The bay

  The shore

  The city

  Country view

  Eventide

  The kettle

  Glass

  Where I live

  My Children and I

  Greening

  The winds

  The Rivers

  Peace

  May I Ask

  Can Peace Come

  May I Again ask

  Finally

  Flowers

  Violet

  Nestling,

  subdued,

  never subservient,

  without malice

  or affectation,

  this purple, Royal

  this green, Complete,

  supports and enhances

  Ah!

  This enchanted flowering

  Violet!

  Hollyhock

  This flower,

  on principle,

  The Lord will enfold.

  Yes,

  the eye of His needle

  be it ever so fine,

  will open,

  to receive the hollyhock

  for its beauty in this our clime,

  where our sense of beauty,

  is prone to rest,

  and our eyes tend to go blind,

  to the double debt

  this flower,

  gives to all humankind

  Nature

  Nature’s Generosity

  Nature has no rhythm,

  no refinement,

  no measured beat.

  Content is she to suspend time,

  avoid all restraint,

  be free to invent.

  Beyond our state,

  although finite,

  she moves,

  in ways we cannot circumscribe.

  We can only try to,

  catalogue and classify,

  according to our tenant state

  Fingered trees

  Fingered trees cross-hatching the hills,

  reaching up to hold the low horizon,

  Grey clouds,

  replete, sufficient,

  eager, even in their leaden state

  to jostle for place

  uncaring, indifferent,

  pressing down the horizon ever more

  on to the slender fingers

  stretching there.

  The Trees

  Yes,

  The trees are still beautiful in this desolate land

  where we can still hear the acute strains

  of wild pine, Hebridean,

  or note the malleable angle

  of the wimping willow

  while seeing, where northerly grows

  the harlot larch,

  stretching to join the endless lowline that denotes

  the juniper's presence

  or watch the clouds proliferate,

  the rain increase in burden and charge,

  the leaves and needles fall,

  destitute,

  overcome by all this natural generosity.

  The leaves

  Like children in the primal position,

  Waiting behind a door

  for the next dawn,

  the trembling leaves hid,

  in fear of some devilish psyche,

  who lurked outside,

  waiting to dispel known sights

  and introduce new meanderings.

  The willow tree

  The old willow tree,

  tired of submission,

  suddenly stood straight,

  assuming this new stance

  just before the evening storm.

  I was amazed to see a natural thing

  will and alter,

  changing the senseless grip of genetics,

  Then I remembered the sapsuckers,

  so greedy, so thoughtless,

  had spent the week,

  hollowing the strength of that tree,

  in every branch and twig.

  From my window, this morning,

  I noticed my view was unobstructed.

  The sapsuckers sat on the fence, bewildered.

  The wind was much stronger, over my sill

  A moment

  On the browned earth,

  grayed trees,

  graveled roads,

  and the static river,

  the lazy snowflakes slipped.

  down the yielding columns of

  recumbent clouds

  sleeping, there,

  in the midday.

  All things below

  then slowly turned a placid white,

  yes,

  hued things became coordinated

  into one universal primary,

  eliminating all known boundaries of

  line and frame.

  then,

  differences were all joined

  into one,

  indivisible, all-covering fact,

  as a result

  not of plan or purpose

  but of circumstance

  Light

  High Sol

  Nature,

  open in surrender to High Sol,

  vibrating,

  constantly absorbing those chosen bands

  so needed for the green promise.

  And with veins at maximum span

  drawing the sweet liquid of life

  into all the wells

  enjoining all,

  in life's full capacity,

  even when satiated,

  always thirsty

  pressing eagerly

  drinking ever more deeply.

  Let there be light

  Slender slivers, sol bright,

  transfixed in circuitry,

  wait to illuminate light.

  Slippery pages

  placed end to end

  tap the resources of the fundament.

  Silent scales,

  annointed,

  await the endless line

  in that absolute prime, when,

  Slender slivers, sol bright,

  transfixed in circuitry

  Will contain and illuminate light.

  Creatures

  The Snail

  Gently, softly,

  cloned to insignificance,

  inconspicuous to all living things,

  he moved, without effort.

  Programmed and immersed

  in ganglion oblivion,

  he traveled easily,

  from branch to branch,

  along a developing track of

  frictionles
s ooze

  that contained his random path

  Until, across my hand

  he slipped and slid

  (I felt fear from his most alien touch)

  to reach a neighboring branch

  beside my slimed hand,

  his bridge.

  The birds

  The birds repeat their mindless little phrase,

  Never attempting to improvise,

  or counterpoint the line.

  No conscious mind thus no regrets,

  no hopes no allusions,

  no darkening place,

  They neither endure

  nor do they weep

  Their short life is

  neither bitter

  nor even sweet.

  How common,

  yet, how pleasant must be their life

  that has;

  but one moment of possible pain

  before,

  an infinite moment

  of Everlasting Life.

  Windless flight

  Her windless flight I hastened to see

  when the little bird created waves,

  mysteriously,

  before alighting on a piece of pine,

  to pause, to consider.

  Then she entered freely into the darkness

  where she sat, for just a moment

  before, turning about

  to face the right,

  opening her eyes

  evermore wide.

  to reflect the quantum

  and initiate light

  that flew to my mind,

  quietly rested there

  as a particular reminder,

  of her place,

  here.

  The Butterfly

  The butterfly flew

  into the web of sunshine

  that covered the field.

  An ant crawled

  across a bridge of light.

  A young boy

  stepped on one and pinned the other.

  The sun freckled his youthful face.

  Danger!

  Malevolant and so aged,

  slimmed to fit the bore,

  Nature squeezed the trigger

  and danger was in the fore.

  Invisible,

  he slammed my slackened tackle,

  brought fear to me

  even before his body blocked the air

  before my frozen eyes.

  That primeval power escaped my harness

  by lengthening it beyond all possibility,

  gutting my reel,

  numbing my arm,

  Before slamming back into

  his waiting environment.

  Water

  Symbiosis

  As the water's hands subtly shifted,

  the bird moved aside,

  surrendering space

  to the water mite and spiders three,

  who walked on water

  to delight just me.

  Her fingers

  flicked green algae and quivering slime,

  until the sun stretched out

  and visibly transformed,

  the visual state of all of these.

  She saw all of this

  understood and quietly waited

  until the sun,

  satisfied in vanity,

  slipped casually by,

  leaving the water, the mite, the spiders and me,

  to gather together

  in a new symbiosis.

  Sibling

  Hydrogen and those siblings of life,

  entered a frigid zone and coalesced in fright.

  Unfortunately, their weight was on a point

  that yielded and was torn asunder,

  forming a funnel that shaped a path,

  that lead the little community down,

  to a final prance upon my bare scalp.

  As I recoiled from their contact

  my muscles, catching the fear, began to seize,

  in anticipation of a further impact

  until I paused to ponder this ridiculous