Invitation to Poetry: “Tell Us What You’ve Found”

January 21, 2008 · by Christine

This is Poetry Party #11!  I select an image and suggest a title and invite you to respond with your poems, words, reflections, quotes, song lyrics, etc.  Leave them in the comments or email me and I’ll add them to the body of the post as they come in along with a link back to your blog if you have one (not required to participate!)  I’ll add your contributions all week and then I will draw a name on Friday again from everyone who participates and this time I will send the winner their choice of item from my Etsy store.

Feel free to post the poem along with my image below on your blog with a link back to this post.  Please invite your readers to come join the party too! 

The photo below was taken at my hermitage on the Hood Canal.  Whenever I take the ferry out there I am reminded of Jane Siberry’s lyrics “Will you sail ‘cross the water and tell us what you found” and so I thought today I’d make that the loose subject of today’s poetry prompt.  As always, feel free to go in any direction that moves you.

*****

I found

A deep breath of peace,
the slow suck of waves
lifting, and letting go,
lifting, and letting go
again.

A gentle filtered light,
clouds scudding past the sun
one instant clear, then dark
one instant clear, then dark
again.

-Tess at Anchors and Masts

*****

Tell Me Dearest

Empty,
waiting.
Have you just come?
Or gone?

Long empty tide,
between.
A gulf will widen,
swallow you.

Come,
sit
and warm me
with your dreams.

Take my hands,
whisper
secret inner journeys
into my heart.

We sail,
alone.
Only keep the spark
dear love to guide us.

-Tandaina at Snow on Roses

*****

I’m dreaming of water,
a river calm in the sun.
My vessel, a rowboat
made with care.
My dreams are of travel,
love, song, beauty,
new life.

I slip into my boat
and find
the oars are too heavy,
the river too strong,
the gusts of wind a surprise.

I’m blown from the shore.
I’m joyful.
I’m safe.
My dreams are divine.

-Theresa Walker

*****

SCENES FROM OLD JAPAN
by 3 Women Poets

(1)
Am I to go on,
Forever yearning, my thoughts
Tangled as seaweed
Swaying with the waves, neither
Drifting out nor coming in?

(2)
Bearing some message,
Will the breeze blow? I am left
To Pine-Tree Island
So slowly drawing closer –
The fisherwoman’s small boat.

(3)
If it is you, there
In the light boat on the pond,
I long to beg you,
“Do not go, linger a while
Among us here in this place.”

First poem by an Unnamed Lady from “Ariake: Poems of
Love and Longing by the Women Courtiers of Ancient Japan”
Second by Sei Shonagon (966-after 1010) from “Thirty-Six
Immortal Women Poets” and Third by Lady Ise (?-959)
from “Women Poets from Antiquity to Now”

-Submitted by Kigen

*****

Mystery

Grace and Gentleness
Solitude and Peace
Particle and Wave
Depth and Silence
Listening and Knowing
          Being

-Betty Curran

*****

They left that quickly-
smell of fish and bread
over recognition.
The boat waiting a turn
in the tide. The men
worn out by fear and damp
splinters of faith, could only
recognize Him in the fracture
of the bread.

-Tom Delmore at Crow’s Perch

*****

Soon winter’s lake
will be free of its bondage;
the rowboat waits–
memories of our laughter
lay frozen in a daydream.

-b’oki.

*****

Empty boat
Empty sea
Empty shore
Empty me

Tell you what I see?

I look up, and I see…
me
and the shore
and the sea
and the boat

And you, calling me.

-Anne Sims at Stories and Faith

*****

I have drifted to a new shore
where I have found:

Kindred spirits
and dear souls

Dazzling sunlight
and dancing trees

Flying fish
and swimming birds

Mystery and complexity
beneath the mirror’s surface

Disturbing, dangerous questions
and mind-altering ideas

Small treasures,
observed and preserved

Slow pleasures,
savoured and repeated

Strength to pick up the oars
and continue the journey.

Elaine at The Edible Balcony Garden

*****

bon voyage…

I saw the boat and knew I had to go.
I could not decide if I would sail or row.

City of lights, she called to me.
I said, “I’m here. I will come to thee.”

I held my breath and then exhaled.
I smiled at the rowboat and then I sailed.

The shores were far, but it was time
to hit the road and meet the Seine.

-Kayce Hughlett at Diamonds in the Sky with Lucy

*****

Left Behind

She walks on water, gliding softly ‘cross
the sea. No turning back, she thinks, and sighs.
Who follows? None, save for the albatross
of guilt that hangs around her neck. ‘Tis wise

perhaps to keep on moving, lest she sink.
The boat’s behind her now,  no turning back.
The scent of honeysuckle deep she drinks,
borne by the wind from shores ahead. The lack

of fear now spurs her on, and joyfully
she runs. The waves give way, and crying loud,
she throws herself upon the sand. To be
this far, at desperate journey’s end she’s proud

Of baggage left behind. Set free at last,
she sings: The boat is gone, and so’s the past.

-Kievas Fargo

*****

My Boat: Reflections

If my boat never moves across the water
is it nothing more than fallen wood?

Water moves, reflected clouds move,
blue and white light moves from the sun,
reflections bounce back to my waiting eyes,
shining also, laden with moving water.

Light and water, always in motion,
in the instant of contact a sparkle
flies away, beyond my limited sight,
yet the motion is always renewed.

I remain in reflection, rowing or not,
while my boat fills with shadows and light.

-Catherine at clwriter

*****

I keep thinking that I have arrived
Yet here I am
Stepping into the boat
Putting my hands to the oars
Pushing off from what is solid and known
Carried to the deep on a graceful tide.

-Rebecca Johnson

*****

The following poem was submitted by Martha-Louise Harkness:

Where Go the Boats?

Dark brown is the river,

   Golden is the sand.

It flows along forever,

   With trees on either hand.

Green leaves a-floating,

   Castles of the foam,

Boats of mine a-boating—

   Where will all come home?

On goes the river

    And out past the mill,

Away down the valley,

    Away down the hill.

Away down the river,

    A hundred miles or more,

Other little children

    Shall bring my boats ashore.

-Robert Louis Stevenson, from his book A Child’s Garden of Verses

*****

On arriving
I ran ashore,
leaving behind
all that
had held me
back.

My journey
complete,
and yet beginning
ever new.

I may I push out
into the deep
again?

But for now
I can rest
From the wind
And the waves
On the shore…

-Sally Coleman at Eternal Echoes

***** 

He sent us away
and went off by himself.
Alone
but for the impressions
of the crowd
and the memories
of loaves and fish.
Alone
on the vast water of life
with its tides and
swells and storms
and sustenance
beneath the waves.
Alone
apart from us
from his followers
and available
to the presence of his father.

-Chrissie at Rome Lover

*****

Should I stay? 
Should I go?
On the shore of accustomed tomorrow–
I hesitate, longing.

The boat waits.
The boat to what is yet
To be.

Should I stay?
Should I go?
On the shore of uncertain tomorrow–
I look back, frightened.

The boat waits.
The boat to what is yet
To be.

Should I stay?
Should I go?
On the shore of familiar tomorrow–
I linger, hoping.

The boat waits.
The boat to what is yet
To be.

Should I stay? 
Must I  go?
To the boat of change and questions—
I step in, trembling.

Lift the oars?
Should I try?
I must, or go back
To the shore.

The water waits.
The water of what is yet
To be.

-Singing Owl at The Owl’s Song

*****

You fill my heart and never leave.
I am surprised by you
tho’ I move away from then back near,
repeatedly displaced, often distracted
never to stay,
but I am drawn by your radical essence
of grace and change -
in this you show me where I could be.

I have found you on the deeper side of joy
but mostly I stumble on you here
at my own feet in the every day
at the wavering of dusk,
cobalt blue of night calming the lake shore
the water barely shimmers in the last light
sending up wisps of steam
into the frozen air.

-Christine at Quiet Paths

*****

I float on the lifeboat of poetry
 peering over the edge at 
 the deep waters.

-Pamela McCauley

*****

Rowing in Eden –
Ah, the Sea!
Might I but moor — Tonight –
In Thee!

-Emily Dickinson

Contributed by Suz Reaney

*****

Slowly, slowly I realize
My dull gray life is
beautiful after all.
A mud gray beach
A cold unwelcoming sea
is all full of life.

Slowly, slowly I comprehend
that life is so much better
than it looks.
So many choices,
so many words,
so many tastes, sounds, smells.

Slowly, slowly, the fog
lifts to show
one big beautiful thing.
Life.

-Annie Thorndike (age 9, almost 10!)

*****

Who Would Have Known

Who would have known
when we arrived,
how things would have been
when we left the boat,
its oars waiting return touch,
how life would change
so much…
so much?

Who would have known
or guessed?
We thought we had
hit land,
real, solid, grainy,
grand…
grand.

Gazing back at the vessel
it seems we never came
so far,
after all the rowing
exertion beyond expectation.
There’s not disappointment
as much as resignation.
At this point in the journey
content with now
and not striving.

Yet the water
lapping
suggests another
voyage back
again…
again.

-Christine Eleanor Merritt

*****
These reflections and the image below are from Leah Sophia at This Far By Faith:

“The Ark,” from Gerry Rafferty’s City to City, (1978)
See, the dark night has come down on us,
The world is living in its dream,
But now we know that we can wake up from this sleep,
And set out on the journey…
We’ll take the road that leads down to the waterside…
We’ll meet out on the water,
Where all strangers are known
The truth is there to set you free…

River so often in Scripture is boundary, border or barrier – for Israel, the Jordan was all three, as it was for Jesus, as it is for us…We baptize within the context of the gathered community, which represents the whole People of God in every time and every place; as the waters of the baptismal river embrace us, the separations, distinctions and distractions that once were barriers become the boundary and border of our new life together. Baptism’s waters carry us home to a place, an attitude and a condition of safety and embrace, where “I” and “me” become we and us. Later on I wrote, “I’ve been thinking so much about the fire of the Presence of God we find throughout scripture, and in our lives today. Pentecostal fire? In my sermon on Advent 3, 2006 I challenged, “Today I’m asking you if the waters of baptism quench the Holy Spirit’s Pentecostal fires? Think about it!”

Although each of us should discover a physical, emotional and total place of belonging anywhere we find the people of God, that theory often doesn’t play out in reality; for too long I’ve been dismayed and disappointed that my expectation I’d find community and identity hasn’t been happening, but now back to the party! Christine asked what we’ve found out on the water; forever I’ve been a visual person, and in the quiet tranquility of Christine’s photograph I see assurance I’ll find stuff of life and stuff for giving life that will settle my heart, renew my body and rebirth my soul, while my own intensely colored and energized “sea cools” reminds me of the Holy Spirit’s pervasive, irresistible, oftentimes healing and frequently re-forming fire that water cannot quench or destroy. God baptizes us with water, with spirit and with fire, all of which freely interplay, while paradoxically and beyond human logic together bestow life to us and prepare us to be God’s life-giving, life-sustaining presence in the world. Amen? Amen!

***** 

 Temptation

On water’s edge, watching for day’s end,
    the rhythms of the tide
       hypnotize me
           as the sun slips off the canvas.

Lulled by the waters lapping at my feet,
     in and out, in and out,
         back and forth,
             take it slow, they say.

Caught up in the current’s refrain:
     relax,
             relax,
             just linger a little longer.

Maybe I’ll just climb in that little boat,
     cut the ties,
        and slip away
             into the quiet.

Maybe I’ll just lay down, and search for stars,
      let the night envelop me,
          rocking and drifting…
                 …until tomorrow.

-Pamela McCauley

*****

The waves rock gently against my boat
pushing, steering me.
The clear blue water laps on the sand
I hear the calling of the sea.

It calls for adventure, trouble or strife
in life’s gentle hum.
The waves pull the boat farther
begging me to come.

I teeter on the edge
unsure of what I’d find.
Emotions rumble like a tidal wave,
my fright at leaving things behind.

I could just leave…
get away and sneak into the night.
The stars and waves surround me,
The wind bring in a bite.

I would see new places,
and never wave goodbye
I’d watch the sun set
as it rose in the star strewn sky.

I’d get to see the moon dance
upon the lowly earth,
I could  eat fruit from far off planets,
and meet people of noble birth.

And all these possibilities
lie beyond the shore.
I could cross to another world,
If I have the courage to open the door.

But as I  clamber into the boat,
I realize what I leave behind.
My mother’s face, my father’s laugh,
reverberate in my mind.

Do I dare leave it?
My face becomes glazed with tears.
The care and life that fills me,
would it all just… disappear?

I grip the boat with my still numb hands
And step onto dry land.
I turn and walk away,
and trudge through the sand.

The boat and adventure can wait,
That glory could fit like a glove
But that isn’t what holds me back,
What stops me from going… is love.

-Micaela, age 13

*****

No More Rowing for Me

See that water…looking so sweet and gentle?
Ha!..don’t let it fool you.
About two yards away, it turns into a hurricane.
I know that for a fact,

Not so long ago, I could row that boat myself
Well, maybe forty years ago, as a camp girl.
Even the whirlies and twirlies made me
Throw my head back and roar with joy and power.

Take my word…

Not so very far away from that shore, things change.
Your heart will beat at your bones like a gull  is caught inside
And your cry of “Oh God” won’t just be a naughty little thing to say
But a real live prayer.

-Suz Reaney

*****

My Little boat 

No big ferry

my little boat—

it keeps me from sinking,

it keeps me afloat.

I see the hills

from my small seat

the ores at my side

lay quiet, neat.

I pass by turtles

resting on limbs

my little boat

makes them swim.

No big ferry

my little boat

carries only me

like some small tote.

I like the quiet

when we are still;

my boat and I.  Though

we seem nill…

drift we may,

drift we must

until there is only

my breath, and hush!

-Martha-Louise Harkness

***** 

Floating, Not Adrift

Thoughts slip-slap gently against my mind,
Moving me ever so slightly
Into this idea and that…
Relishing the sunny day, I lie
Idle in the shallows,
Ripples lip-lapping my hollow sides.
Prow noses into sandy shore,
At most a tenuous hold on terra firma.
No rope ties me fast,
No anchor weighs me down.
Breathing in the moment,
Letting it pass,
I am borne on the water
As on Spirit, held lightly,
Always free to go.

-Wren

***** 

The river will run
The river will turn
The river will swell
The river will dwell

Upon this river will I launch my vessel
Upon this river will I lunch and dine
Upon this river will I find my time
Upon this river will I dwell in peace

For here, amidst the rushing waters,
Is safety in the deep.
Though danger may lurk around the next bend,
I shall not fear, for my Lord is here.
The movement is calming,
exhilarating,
inspiring,
and always deepening.

My heart longs
To be back on the river,
the river of my childhood.
Where crickets chirped,
birds sang,
and leaves swayed in the breeze
Above the always moving water.

And so, in my minds eye,
in my heart,
in my memories,
I am still on the river…
At peace and forever inspired.

-Karla MG
*****

-Christine Valters Paintner @ Abbey of the Arts

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