Saturday, December 20, 2014

The Journey

Photo of Balanced Rock at Chiricahua National Monument courtesy of Donna Simonetti

I am going hiking
To a place I’ve never been,
To the snow covered Chiricahuas
To find my place of Balance
I can hear my footfalls,
I can feel the soft snowflakes falling on my face,
I feel the others with me,
Ancient spirits walking
This same trail
Seeking their soul’s moment,
Seeking and finding their balance
In this place so far from manmade things,
In this place so wild,
One is reborn
And made new.
I hear Raven calling,
Black wings against the white,
He is sharing his wisdom
And guiding my way.
With each footfall, I hear the chorus of garooing
Sandhill cranes emerge briefly in the shifting gray clouds above
Then fade away like phantoms in the mist,
While I watch each snowflake fall softly on the earth,
And coat the ground around me, erasing my steps
I follow the trail through lichen covered boulders
To the place of Balance
In these eternal heights
And I hold on.

I hold on to this thought
while the mask covers my face
and I slip into a dream
beneath the surgeon’s knife.

~Kathie Adams Brown (December 20, 2014)

Friday, November 21, 2014

Rain Sounds

The rain sounds
So soothing to my tear-drenched soul
A rhythm
Beats on roof and sod
A song of my sadness,
Of missing you,
“Friend-of-my heart.”

~Kathie Adams Brown (July 7, 2014)

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Dark Shadows in the Trees

Black shadows in the oak trees
Feathered lumps beneath russet leaves,
Do I really see you there
Or is my mind playing games?
Like dark thoughts in corners—will you stay,
Or fly away?

~kathie adams brown (November 3, 2014)

Monday, September 22, 2014

A Fragile Thing with Wings

So, where will we be when all the butterflies have gone?
When we have harvested, and sprayed and obliterated
Every meadow and unplowed field?
What if there is no fluttering in summer, no metamorphoses happening?
What if there is no renewal and transformation? Will all hope then die?
Will we, as a human race, forget serendipity and joy and the ephemeral pleasure
Of a fragile thing with wings?

~Kathie Adams Brown (September 19, 2014)

This poem is dedicated to my friend, Roy and his blogpost: A Butterfly Day

Thursday, September 18, 2014

The Chimney Swifts are Gone

The chimney swifts are gone,
and they took their cheerful voices,
I hear cicadas whine
With a sound that spells the end,
The sky is faded blue
By the blazing summer sun,
Maple leaves are tinged with red,
The first hint of the coming Fall,
The scent of new mown hay
Lies heavy in humid air,
It is the end of summer,
--the waning days of summer,
--I’ll say good-bye to summer,

Until it comes next year.

~Kathie Adams Brown (August 27, 2014)

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

The Moon is Calling Me

The full moon is calling me
I slip outside into the night,
I follow the path to the midnight bay,
with water flat,
moon puddles like sparkles on black.

I see my old friend, The Bear,
watching over me from the sky,
She points me to my True North
where her Little Bear resides.

I hear the ancient moon songs,
I feel the ancient moon tides,
I dance my own moon dance
In purple shadows and silvery light,
Rejoicing in this wildness:

I have been inside too long.

~Kathie Adams Brown (September 8, 2014)

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Questions on a Perfect Summer Day

Can I pause for just a moment
to enjoy this summer day?
With the breeze teasing the branches and
a chickadee brightly calling?

Can I stop and listen to the cicada’s sultry whine?
Can I smell the fragrant flowers on the sea salted air?

Will I pause long enough to watch gulls wheeling overhead?
Or stop my frantic rushing to watch a butterfly at rest?

Can my eyes follow the darting of a jewel like dragonfly?
Can my heart stop to fill with wonder on this perfect summer day?

Can my soul drink it all in and hold it as a promise
against the coming winter’s snow?

Can I taste such sweetness and live?

~Kathie Adams Brown ( September 4, 2014)

Friday, August 1, 2014

Branches and Twigs

All trees reach for the sky,
—each branch an arm,
—each arm a fork,
a split,
a fine-tuned divide,
becoming smaller, grayer, thinner.

Yet in each twig life-giving sap flows
to each twig tip, where leaves nestle,
and flowers and fruit lie curled as buds waiting
to grace the world with ripeness—an EXPLOSION
of form, shape and color,
the resulting scene a vibrant landscape
with ribbons of color and splashes of life.

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 10, 2014)

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Letting Go

So much of Life is about
Letting  Go.

You cannot hold on,
You cannot keep,
You cannot capture or retain
Another’s soul.

We do not own each other—we must let go!

We set our children free,
We set our friends free,
We set our lovers free, then
We set ourselves free.

We must let go
To Grow.

~Kathie Adams Brown (7-7-14)

Friday, June 13, 2014

I Would Fly Away With You

Have you ever seen a Purple Finch
dancing in the woods,
 a raspberry bird on a low branch,
sunlight streaming down,
chartreuse leaves a forming a bright frame
as he raises his crest to dance.
First he bobs and weaves,
raising one wing, then the other,
wings quivering with anticipation,
and where is she whom he is trying to woo?
Does her heart pitter patter like mine?
Does she know how marvelous it is to see him dance?
I stand here awestruck,
Wishing I were a bird.

I would fly away with you, fine fellow,
And we would make our nest!

~Kathie Adams Brown (May 12, 2014)

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Down the Green Road

Down the green road I drive,
water on both sides,
seagulls wheeling overhead,
and then I see her glide,
black wings spread wide,
white head, white tail, yellow beak and feet,
talons stretched she lands
on prey in the green field,
 a picture of wildness as I drive,
on this green road,
this coastal road,
in the Maine countryside.

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 30, 2014)

Today is the last day of National Poetry Month, and I just could not let it end without writing at least one new poem. This is inspired by my drive home from the town today when I saw a Bald Eagle land a nearby field. Click on the link below to see what other poets have done.

Monday, April 21, 2014

Why I Can't be a Minimalist

I want to be a minimalist but…

…I like the feel of my tea cup in my hands
warm, and round and pretty.

Today I like this one but,
tomorrow I may want to use another one,
a different one
for my coffee or my tea or my hot chocolate

a different cup for
a different kind of tea
or a different holiday,
or a different friend,
or a different memory,

because I have so many
(friends and memories that is)
as well as tea cups
(more than 40 I’d say)

So how can I have less than 100 things
as proposed by some people nowadays?

For me that would mean throwing away all tangible connections
to people, places and pleasures

the Simple Pleasure that I get
from drinking tea or coffee
from whichever tea cup I am in the mood for


~Kathie Adams Brown (October 27, 2010)

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Spring Song

The fields and forest call to me
I need to run and play
So many months and years have passed
Since I have been away.
The scent of new mown hay I need,
the color of ripening wheat,
the purple, green and blue of mountains
 rising strong and sweet,
the sight of newborn calves curled up,
in meadows in the spring,
the skylarks singing perched on fences—I know why they sing!
The trees that whisper in the breeze
beside a chattering brook,
an eagle soaring in the sky—I need to run and look!
Whether a full moon rising in a starry night,
or the fireball setting, shedding golden light,
God’s creation calls to me,
Oh! Let me run and see!

~Kathie Adams Brown (May 8, 1994)

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Colors in the Background

There are such colors in the background,
Hiding from our eyes,
while we focus on the thing we want
the colors pass us by
it is not until we stop and look
beyond what we can see
that other colors come to us
and set our spirits free.

~Kathie Adams Brown November 16, 2010

Friday, April 18, 2014

Highschool Haiku

The snow comes and makes
The gray winter beautiful
But how about me?

Am I to be like
A vanishing mist or will
You remember me

~Kathie (September 26, 1974)

Though it's National Poetry Month I have not had much time to write new poems. So, I thought I would celebrate the rest of this month by posting some poems from my past. A kind friend informed me that yesterday was National Haiku Poetry Day and amazingly I found these while searching for something else in a box in my basement. I wrote them when I was a teen but they still seem relevant today. I hope you enjoy them and get inspired to write some of your own!

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Timberdoodle Day

Twitter down, twitter down, tumble down flight,
Peenting, peenting in the gray light,
Spiral, spiral, catch a quick sight,
Rock-a-bird, rock-a-bird in the damp night.

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 10, 2014)

Friday, April 11, 2014

Green Spikes are Promises

The last cold grip of winter has weakened,
Daffodil spears poke through the damp, brown earth
Pointing to the sunny sky,
Green spikes are promises,

Soon there will be flowers,
Soon it will be Spring.

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 10, 2014)

Thursday, April 10, 2014

The Wild Blue Sea

View from Land's End on Bailey Island, ME  3-16-14

I wait on the wild blue shore to see,
I wait to watch the wild blue sea,
What are the creatures, what of the birds?
When will the wind blow?
What will I hear?
What are the colors,
All shades of blue,
Some shades of gray,
Some green too.
Here in the bay by the wild blue sea,
here I am waiting for whatever will be,
Why am I drawn to this wild blue sea?

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 10, 2014)

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Christina's World

Christina's World by Andrew Wyeth

Is the world all bleak and gray, Christina,
Is there not a spot of joy?
Does all elude your legs?
Yet in your fingertips do you not feel the damp earth
In a way unknown to most?
Can you not smell the years of decay that bring forth life?
I see you looking up the hill,
Is there longing in the twist of your body…
Or acceptance of your lot in life?
What do you know, dear Christina, that most of us do not?
What can I learn from you and your world, Christina?
Can your weak legs open my eyes?

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 1, 2014)

*an ekphrastic poem-a poem inspired by or about a work of art

Friday, March 21, 2014

Finding the Connection

The thought drifts slowly through my mind,
softly on silver wings,
Moving like a ghost through mist
on a cold, gray day,
Its gossamer tendrils entangle me,
wrap me in knowing
that I am connected,
that I am bound to this earth,
This Place of my being,
and all that happens to her,
happens to me,
and with the horror of this knowing—I  gasp!
And with the joy of this knowing—
I fly.

~Kathie Adams Brown (March 21, 2014)

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Morning on the Bay

Mere Point Bay, Brunswick, ME March 2014
The silver bay is flecked with gray, then blushes a soft pink,
The shining sun has just begun to rise above the drink,
And so the morning softly comes upon the silver bay,
And all the birds burst into song to welcome the new day.

~kathie adams brown (March 18, 2014)

Saturday, February 1, 2014

Before the White-winged Dove Returns

White-winged Dove in my Tucson yard 4-13-2013

I will be gone before the White-winged Dove returns
Before the monsoon rains scent the desert air again;
I will not be here to see the lesser nighthawks slice through the twilight
Or hear the twittering chatter of purple martins in flight.
I will not see the cactus bloom this year,

painting the desert in a riot of color in spring
as Palo Verdes burst with yellow blossoms along tree lined streets.
There is no way to convey this desert landscape.
You must be here to smell the fragrance of creosote after the rains;
You have to stand on your patio on a moonlit night and feel the desert wind caress your legs
While the coyote chorus sings down the canyon and calls up the moon.
You must be here to hear the Cactus Wrens cackle on a hot summer’s day,
Or hear the Rock Wrens trill from the mountain slopes.
I will not be here when the white-winged dove returns to perch on saguaro blossoms,
But, I will know they are here.
I have seen them before and I will know they are here again—desert birds in a desert landscape
Rich with life and memories of things seen and done and still to be done
When the white-winged dove returns.

~kathie adams brown (January 28, 2014)

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

A Bright Beginning

In the morning light the feathered gem
hovers in the sparkles of the irrigation rain
bejeweled and bedazzled by sunlight and water
green feathers gathering light and reflecting it
back in a spray of color
and morning magic,
while I walk the dog in the neighborhood park—
a bright beginning to my day.

~kathie adams brown (January 28, 2014)

Thursday, January 16, 2014

An Ode to Sycamore Canyon

Sycamore Canyon 7-22-2010

I came to say “good-bye” to you,
I thought you’d make me cry,
but you have changed so much
and now I wonder why?
Your wild slopes have been torn up,
machinery rumbles on,
belching out its black exhaust
‘till all the birds have gone.
The bird song has diminished
and traffic noise increased.
though beauty still surrounds you,
You’ve lost your sense of peace!
I found a few fine sparrows,
the cactus wrens still call,
I walked right by an owl,
it made me feel quite small.
I think I’ll just remember you
the way you used to be,
there’s no stopping all this progress
but this Progress ain’t for me!

~Kathie Adams Brown (January 16, 2014)

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

A Winter's Dream

Swiftly on this winter's night
Orion takes his stealthy flight
across the dark and spangled sky
as the cold night slowly passes by,
and we mere mortals stop and stare
into the dome quite unaware
of heavenly battles being fought;
of dreams released and being caught
in sleepy heads on pillows laid--
it's in the stars that dreams are made!

~kathie adams brown (January 6, 2014)

Imaginary Garden with Real Toads