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Divine Poetry

Gail Steuart will share her poetry and photography with readers.

STICK A FORK IN IT

When I stuck a fork in it the steak my dad brought home oozed blood.
“Why do I have to eat this bloody mess?” I asked.
“Don’t ask, just eat it and remember to chew! He said.
Daddy was a butcher and revered a good steak.
I learned to bite down with my mouth shut!

7/12/19

How often in a lifetime can this happen
Bringing two complicated beings into
A place where awareness
Combines to bring a new
Opportunity to share –
To speak of love and move our bodies to the
Memory of creation we received at birth.
Reopening the floodgates
That have been closed.
Water, sparkling, tumbling, pouring down in streams to fill the well of desire.
Can you feel the impossibility of
Expanding openings which have no
Outlet big enough so that
New shared memories must
Flow over the lips which are consumed with joy.
Let it Be!
Gail E. Steuart
6/22/2019

churchI took this photo of a choir rehearsal by candlelight in the unfinished sanctuary of the church in Houston. My son-in-law designed a large part of this building, so it was a special occasion for me to get to be there.

DARKNESS

Darkness hides – leads one to rest and a warm retreat.
It s a mystery that the womb is dark, yet is the place of creative motion.
The familiar coolness of the night – where dreams are the incubation of meaning.
Things become clear here because of darkness, but are then revealed in the light.I must have forgotten that poetry comes from the first intimation of the soul.

It’s time to stop moaning about my pitiful widow’s life—

Time to reframe my sad picture of husband and wife.

Let sparkles of life and adventure come ahead,

And thank God I’m among the living –

Instead of the dead!

4/13/2019

aria next move

MY PLAYPEN

Why am I suffering here where I’m meant to be free?

It seems like a prison, and I want to flee.

The bars seem to hold me, as I’m peeking through.

My spirit is climbing, but what can I do?

The message is clear.

The time isn’t yet.

My body is only beginning

To let the growth that is there be shown as the Source

Like a river starts tiny and grows to it’s Force.

6/2/87

SPEAKING UP

I don’t understand their drivel.

When they speak, it sounds like trivel.

MY words will be more meaningful.

When I speak out, I wont be dull.

I’m waiting for my words to come.

When I talk, I won’t be dumb.

I’ll wiggle my mouth and move my face.

I’ll speak the truth with words of grace.

I’ll bet you just can’t wait to see

What wisdom will come forth from me.

6/2/87

granddaughter clara signing her book no baggage

MY POTTY CHAIR

What is this strange apparatus?

Can it be a clysmcatus?

May I ask, what is it’s purpose?

I have no sense of any worthus!

Mother seems to think it’s finne.

‘tis her purpose, what of mine?


I do not know or realize

What’s down BELOW or IN THE SKIES.

I’m just here awaiting wisdom.

Does it come from cataclysm?

Gail Steuart 6/2/87



MY THUMB

This strange apparition comes jerking at me.

It comes from this side – then the other.

Maybe it is part of mother.

Finally it’s in my mouth.

I suck, and nothing’s coming out.

So good, but nothing’s in it.

I suck and suck and such.

6/2/87

IN POETRY COUNTRY
Sung to the tune of My Country ‘Tis of Thee

My country ‘tis of thee,
My land of poetry.

Sharing with a group for fun –
I like it such a pun!

Well, lets write some more.
Isn’t that what life is for?
3/8/19

anna 2 years

HIGH STEPPING

These steps are as tall as my legs are long,

But I have discovered STEPS.

UP and DOWN, DOWN and Up.

I cannot stop to rest.

I don’t know that I will be taking these same steps over and over

again forever.

(6/2/87)

WALKING TALL

Walking this wall so high.

Step by step, S L O W, S L O W

I have no fear.  I’m so bold.

I do not know that grandma’s hand is close behind me

Always there to love and guide me.

(6/2/87)

FIRST CHILD

The lap long mine belongs to another.

This crying, noisome, ugly bother.

Mother’s closeness… over there.

This new one does not know to share.

How can I let her know my loss.

This other one is sure the boss.

I’ll wait a while until she’s free.

Then slip up quietly on her knee.

(1/15/89)

anna yarrow

20190414