Archive for March 2008

Poems Near Flying

3. March 2008 by admin.


NEAR FLYING
Copyright, Mary Rachels

When my children were small
They were the best word for brownies
The best fixer-uppers
A smile at the end of the rainbow

But changes came, swift and unfailing
They grew older and wiser
As the world makes them
They could no longer be held
With a tie-a-tot
And grew too old for molding therapy

So I learned to accept
Their extremities, their exhibitionism
Their feats of flying or near flying
In this modern generation
Or if not to accept, to deal with
Without falling apart
Or killing butterflies on the wing

In order to reach this point
I have had to be at times
Somewhat extreme
And at times
Somewhat an exhibitionist
And I’ve done my share of flying

Flying off the handle
Flying all to pieces
Flying off in all directions I know I still have
A lot of flying to do

I just hope I always remember
To take along a parachute
After all, Mothers don’t come
In crush-proof packages

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Poems Feeling Free

3. March 2008 by admin.


FEELING FREE
Copyright, Mary Rachels

Living in the mountains
Is like living on cloud nine
You can almost touch the stars
You can almost fly
The mountain air is thin
And it opens all the senses
Mountain beauty fills the head
With magic and illusion

I grew up in the mountains
And lived the mountain life
A life of open love and warmth
To melt the winter ice
I had no knowledge of the cold
Even when it tumbled
Thru the cracks or roof
In the silent form of snow

Cold was just a part of it
As much a part as freedom
And freedom wasn’t just a word
Free is what we were

Freedom was reality
And wearing hip-high boots
Plowing thru the snow with Dad
To look for evening’s meal
Scaring rabbits out for dinner
From their brush-piled homes

Freedom used to climb the slab pile
And watch dad feeding tree on tree
To the hungry sawmill
To get us thru the winter

Freedom ate the skimmings
Off the sorghum slowly cooking
Freedom walked with Momma
Picking berries by the pond
And out along the fence
That kept the cow and Old Ned in

But the very best of freedom
Were times when I could ride
The length of that green pasture
Holding on to Old Ned’s mane
A free and casual spirit
Without saddle, without fear
The breath of God was there
As we slowly rode the wind

Momma and dear Papa
Have gone to their reward
And Old Ned to whatever
Is reserved for faithful horses
And when I go again
Up to the mountain’s heart
I see Momma, I see Papa
I see rabbits where they hide
I see Freedom and Old Ned
Riding a wind That now carries him
gently

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