Imagining we know the score,
we’re suiting up to argue for
a noble cause, but harmony
eludes the grasp of “me me me”
engaging in a psychic war.
The value placed on “more more more”
instead of peace defies the spore
evolving in humanity’s
Civility’s esprit de corps
is fading like the dinosaur
but listen, learn, and love, lest we
become the people we abhor
Mary Boren, 2017
Pompous politicians yammer,
pundits propagate the threat.
Trolls and bloggers join the clamor
spread across the Internet.
News reports reflect an image
of a nation on the brink,
polarized and poised to scrimmage.
People, stop. Be still and think.
Some are healthier than others,
some are wracked by pain or greed.
All are born of human mothers,
longing for the peace we need.
Can’t we learn to share the planet,
set aside the plots and ploys?
Stifle fearful hate — don’t fan it —
filter out the surface noise.
We the People, friends and neighbors,
sisters, brothers, husbands, wives,
quietly attend our labors
leading ordinary lives.
Bonded by conciliation,
we can raise a voice that’s strong,
blessed beyond imagination,
if we simply get along.
Mary Boren, 2012
Painting by Dario Campanile, 2010, to commemorate the 5-year traveling exhibit:
“Missing Peace Found: Artists Consider the Dalai Lama”
A field of energy surrounds
exhibit halls, artistic grounds
where wisdom flows. A soft wind blows
from Mexico to Greece.
In joining hands around the globe
to touch the Dalai Lama’s robe,
the threads connect; hearts intersect
at avenues to peace.
Emerging from the planet’s core,
the whisper soon becomes a roar —
a rising tide to cast aside
suspicion, hate and fear.
With absolute impunity,
the world embraces unity
when chaos ends. It all depends
on everybody here.
Compassion for our brother’s plight
must hold a candle through the night.
All cannot rest while one’s oppressed.
erode our fundamental soul.
Each person fills a vital role;
we’re called to be the change we see
in dreams. Let kindness reign!
Mary Boren, 2011
The form is called quaintrelle.
I had an energizing dream about a peaceful morning
when everyone alive awakes renewed.
The air is pure, the water clean, no hint of global warming,
and no one lacks for shelter, clothes, or food.
The planet is awash with gratitude.
What happened to the weary world and all its weight of sorrow?
What monumental, unforeseen event
could render feuds forgotten as an ominous tomorrow
became today? By mutual assent,
nobody even wonders where it went.
But as the dreamer, watching from a cloud at twelve-eleven,
I saw exactly how the shift occurred.
It’s not like everybody had to die to go to heaven.
The earth turned upside down, imbalance blurred,
and in that moment, inner vision stirred.
So now it’s spring in Perth and autumn in the Rocky Mountains.
Affluence is devalued, hope annealed.
As fear is toppled to the bottom, overflowing fountains
of love ascend to trump the sword and shield.
The veil has lifted; heaven is revealed.
Mary Boren, 2011