A pebble skipped across a pond
incites a hectic scene
until the ripples spread beyond
the center of the screen.
An incident that floods a mind
with bitterness can dredge
impediments unless we find
discernment on the edge.
When stillness or resistance calls
between opposing views,
the shadow of perception falls
wherever people choose
2022 Mary Boren
View Discussion
“Not the ones speaking the same language, but the ones sharing the same feeling, understand each other.” -Rumi
The music doesn’t echo in a void.
It travels on a transcendental plane
that cannot be distorted or destroyed
and enters through a universal vein.
The magic doesn’t happen on the stage
when eyes alone are focusing on smoke
and mirrors, tricks impossible to gauge
when realism hides behind a cloak.
For only in the space between the realms
that camouflage the planets on their course
can kindred spirits forge a bond that whelms
our senses with connection to the source.
Communion recognized throughout the spheres
will ring when stillness penetrates our ears.
2022 Mary Boren
View Discussion
The flavor of a box of candy tries
to overwhelm the message it delivers.
Don’t bring me one unless you want my thighs
to wear it as a clue to thoughtless givers.
Acknowledging that tryptophan succeeds
in tactics to manipulate emotion,
I’d rather know an item meets my needs
than artificially compels devotion.
So pay attention when the signs are clear
on who I am compared to what you thought
and (any day but Valentine’s) appear
with pieces of yourself, not what you bought.
Forget the standard candy, flowers, jewels,
and give me something useful — power tools!
2022 Mary Boren
View Discussion
It seems I can’t advance a smidgen closer
to clarify precisely what was meant.
While other speakers tend to wax verboser
in lieu of true rapport, I’ll take the hint.
If cluelessness precludes communication,
I’ll make a faithful effort to review
or paraphrase, but layered obfuscation
can dominate a player’s hearing too.
Ignore me if you must — pretend I stuttered,
then lay the blame according to your need.
My words will not be offered drawn and buttered,
or spoon-fed, tossed with dressing, fricasseed.
For even if I sweeten and de-fat ’em,
I cannot understand ’em for you, madam.
2022 Mary Boren
View Discussion
While the churches keep turning a back
on compassion, condoning the pack
of unholy behavior
that summons no savior
for immigrants under attack…
and the health of the nation’s in peril
because of increasingly feral
resistance to glean
benefits of vaccine
to encompass the whole human barrel…
and the workers are saddled with debt
by the predator class who abet
exploitation of minions
by driving opinions
that fairness to all is a threat…
and with few on alert to the whiff
of the greedy tyrannical skiff
that’s engaging the motors
to overthrow voters,
democracy’s over a cliff.
Lest we lose any semblance of hope
while unrolling the last foot of rope,
tie a knot in the end
and let’s try to pretend
that we’re not on a slippery slope.
2021 Mary Boren
View Discussion
Image Source
We only have, on average, the span
of eighty-seven years to mount a quest
for wisdom steeped in life. The lesson plan
is stacked against the odds we’ll pass the test.
For some, the obstacles occur at birth
before the child has drawn a second gasp
and never cease, while others’ inner worth
is nurtured from the gate to final grasp.
But if distracted by the siren call
of fame and fortune, don’t expect to reach
the summit of serenity. The fall
of hubris supersedes us in the breach.
And any course curtailed before it’s done
will be extended for another run.
2021 Mary Boren
View Discussion
“I send my soul through time and space to greet you. You will understand.” -James Elroy Flecker (To a Poet a Thousand Years Hence)
Not driven by the world’s applause
your words were neither praised nor spurned.
You spoke or wrote them down because
the fire within you burned.
From chants to overcome the fears
encroaching on a native camp
to chronicles of current years
your words have held a lamp.
To each of you who heard the call
of feelings that demand release
through ink or etched into a wall,
the echoes never cease.
So whether gathered in renowned
Akashik Records or encased
in ancient caverns underground,
no words have gone to waste.
Millennia may come and go
before or since another surge
renews the link, but we who know
will let our spirits merge.
2021 Mary Boren
View Discussion
For the season,
instead of rewarding the greed
in the shadow
of corporate gluttons who feed
on consumers like candy,
help someone in need.
With the message
of Thanksgiving lost on the grounds,
reconsider
the noise that unceasingly pounds
on the spirit of sharing
as profit abounds.
In the absence
of empathy, avarice thrives.
You are hoarding
enough for the legions of lives
who are trapped in the chasm
til justice arrives.
2021 Mary Boren
View Discussion
Though critical conditions reach a peak
on Saturday and multitudes are troubled,
with only seven midnights in a week
the hope of Sunday morning light is doubled.
The cosmic calendar is not concerned
with momentary intervals between
the folds of time and space. Where planets burned,
an emptiness now occupies the screen.
The rise and fall of empires in the span
of savage centuries is but a page
from one recorded Chronicle of Man,
unnoticed as the sweepers clear the stage.
For when the music strikes another chord,
the balance of Eternity’s restored.
2021 Mary Boren
View Discussion
You said, “Don’t come when winter’s on the ground
in slushy piles of gray beside the road
from SUVs and eighteen-wheelers bound
for stations where a guy can drop his load.
“Don’t come in April when the yellow haze
of cedar pollen permeates the air.
Don’t come in shoulder season — humid days
are not conducive to a love affair.
“But come instead when everything is right,
when waves of magic cast a perfect spell
to cure the atmosphere of human blight
and all the people wish each other well.”
That’s when I knew your summons was a stall.
It’s clear that you don’t want me there at all.
2021 Mary Boren
View Discussion
When agents of oppression rise
like buzzards under cloudy skies
to sabotage you in the steeplechase,
remember cheaters can’t compete
with fairness in the final heat
so leave it up to fate to set the pace.
In time, you’ll either forge ahead
…
or abandon the rules of the race
and relinquish your rider instead.
2021 Mary Boren
View Discussion
Photo Source: As racehorse death toll continues to rise, Congress moves to salvage the ‘sport of kings’
(in the style of “Fire and Ice”, with apologies to Frost)
While some are satisfied with rice,
however bland,
I much prefer to pay the price
for hearty fare that’s basted twice
to blend a tantalizing brand
of seasonings that suit my taste;
uniquely wrought, precisely planned
tomato paste
that’s fresh, not canned.
For when the pizza’s tossed by hand
and not in haste,
the cheese and pepperoni stand
like sentries poised to spark demand.
Ingredients don’t go to waste
and every sharply honed device
contributes to the flavor laced
through every slice
wherever placed.
2021 Mary Boren
View discussion.
There’s a corner in the basement
where nocturnal creatures spawn
mortal fear that renders optimism sparkless,
but the balance born of nature
in the crucible of dawn
is reserved for those who waited through the darkness.
Human history is littered
with unspeakable events
that would justify eternal condemnation
but a nucleus of dreamers
rising up to love’s defense
can emerge from any faithless generation.
As the curtain falls on freedom
through the apprehensive night,
may a unifying spirit find us banded
with rejuvenated purpose.
Let it lead us to the light
where impossibility is countermanded.
2021 Mary Boren
View Discussion
Hold your horses, stop the presses —
online selling’s fraught with stresses.
Analyzing, advertising,
merchandising, supersizing,
pressure rising, trends and traffic’s
sudden swerves and demographics.
Camera ready? Check the lighting.
Featuring the most inviting
angles, shooting beads and bangles,
lock ‘n’ load and get to writing!
(How ya think yer gonna sell it
if ya dunno how to spell it?)
Auctions closing; buyers dozing.
Gotta beat the competition!
Handle with integrity,
pack it snug, and ship it free,
Savvy shoppers know the rules.
eBay doesn’t suffer fools.
2021 Mary Boren
View Discussion
(with a nod to the timeless fable and
apologies to Leonard Cohen, Rascal Flatts, and Joan Baez)
Democracy, your waterbearers’ burden
is woefully unbalanced as the schemes
of lords and ladies on the hill have hoarded
the vessel that contains our common dreams.
It may appear America is leaking
the essence of the best it might have been,
but “there’s a crack in everything”. A trickle
can nurture hope, “that’s how the light gets in”.
Your promise of equality and freedom
for all has languished in the hands of few
for centuries. We’re ready for our blessing,
“the broken road that leads (us) straight to you”.
As trampled seeds of progress line the shoulders
along the path, replenishment relies
on sharing distribution of the bounty
that longs to shower down from cloudless skies.
Let sunshine pierce the depths of every crevice
and justice flow like water to replace
the field of opposition in obstructing
“the president (who) sang Amazing Grace”.
2021 Mary Boren
View Discussion
When I witness your existence
as you navigate the distance
from the origin of purpose to the peak,
I am humbled by persistence
past the line of least resistance
in your resolute pursuit of what you seek.
While invincibly curtailing
paralytic fear of failing
you are crushing obstacles along the path.
Does the mountain you are scaling
lead to summit views unveiling
the reward for struggle in its aftermath?
Let us climb the hill together
as we both escape the tether
of conditioning that binds us to our birth,
for the thesis isn’t whether
we are made of wood or leather
but how feathered faith can soar above the earth.
2021 Mary Boren
View Discussion
I met your ante, eager to involve
myself in overtrumping you. I flinched.
Your level gaze unsettled my resolve,
and now I find my thin composure benched.
No upturn-cornered rosebud lips betray
your boldness, perched in Mother’s shopping cart.
How can you be so blasted calm? I’m prey
to eyes with no propensity to dart.
I’m stuck behind you at the checkout stand,
you liquid-lidded angel. Clear the aisle —
I may as well cash in my chips. (This hand
won’t help me make a brown-eyed baby smile.)
Your halo isn’t gold; it’s burnished red.
If stares were shards of metal, I’d be dead.
2002 Mary Boren
View Discussion
(with apologies to George Bernard Shaw and Robert Herrick)
You tell us youth is wasted on the young,
that we must gather rosebuds while we may
lest fragile opportunities be flung
like flotsam on the canvas of decay.
With body toned, thick hair and creamy skin
commanding adulation from the masses
the pattern of predominance will spin
its own cocoon around the rugged passes.
But I submit the opposite is true.
It’s adolescent angst that stands in need
of energy to busily pursue
agendas misdirected to succeed.
For only at an age when pride is purged
can artificial values be submerged.
2021 Mary Boren
View Discussion
In a split-level duplex on Denver’s west side
where the gold dust and booze overflowed
from the previous century, someone appeared
at a newlywed couple’s abode.
“Did you see what just happened?” The unison chant
broke the silence as, bolting awake
with adrenalin pumping, they sat up at once
and described an identical take
on the bold basement visitor’s last fading flash
that remains an indelible clip
in this vividly witnessed and oft-replayed film
even fifty years after the trip:
At the headboard, a rustle of taffeta stirs
in the mystical opening scene
as an elegant lady comes slowly in view
from the rear as she glides in between
man and wife unaware that we sleep on the grave
of society superimposed
on a future dimension with tenuous thread,
its connection as yet undisclosed.
Like Miss Kitty, complete with a bustle and hat,
she is dressed to the nines for the day
in a matching plaid number befitting her role
as a fashion plate walking away.
Then she ever-so-gracefully raises her skirt,
stepping down from the foot of the bed,
still not floating but moving with purpose and poise
through the wall of the closet ahead.
2021 Mary Boren
View Discussion
If you’ve ever rolled beside an eighteen-wheeler
while the traffic signal’s hovering on red
then you’ve noticed how the driver will maneuver
in anticipation of the road ahead.
From his lofty vantage point he can determine
how to coax the engine into keeping pace,
when to shift into a lower gear or idle
as the looming obstacle demands its space.
His experience has taught that slight adjustments
can result in smoother passage through the scene
and with any luck he’ll correlate his movement
with the crucial moment red returns to green.
The imperative to keep the big wheels turning
isn’t just for show. It’s practical and wise
to elude a full-on stop, conserving fuel.
Starting over takes more energy to rise.
If the call of forward motion guides your quest,
may you never break momentum in your rest.
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
Once long ago in a mythical tale
weary fishermen huddled to hoist
nets that were empty back into the boat
when they heard an encouraging voice.
Jesus, not dead like they thought but transformed
at the end of his corporal shift,
told them to lower the nets over there.
Soon the load was too heavy to lift.
When his disciples were sated with fish
in his wayshowing manner, he said
“Simon, come here. Do you love me enough
to assure that my sheep will be fed?”
Refugees struggle forever, it seems,
fellow humans in need of a hand.
These are his people. He left us with notes
not to judge, just obey his command.
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
“When you have only ever experienced privilege, equality feels like oppression.” ― Adam Rutherford
Here’s Karen, captured from a foreign realm,
stacked in a leaky vessel through a storm
where all the crew, from cargo hold to helm,
were black and bold, the undisputed norm.
She’s told to buckle down and never whine
about the weight of sorrow on her back
from stolen heritage. “What’s yours is mine,”
they say, “we’ve set you on an equal track.”
But drowning in an ocean fraught with tears
or stranded in a desert parched with thirst,
the vestige of oppression through the years
can never fade until the tide’s reversed.
Why should it threaten them if she demands
a sign that someone sees and understands?
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
When potentates arrived at Louie’s gate
they frequently
were treated decently
from carriage to the crux of the estate
through spacious links to be
connected to the presence on the throne
that blanketed the monarchy alone.
But only those whose social pedigree
was highest shelf
according to their wealth
were met with individual esprit
and ushered by the king himself
through each palatial post from in to out
at every station on the winding route.
A remnant of the ritual remains,
a quiddity
that, like a whispered plea,
still echoes from the rural Georgia plains
with matchless hospitality
in gracious deference to who you are:
“Allow me to escort you to your car.”
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
The secret of peacock politeness
is keeping appearances plumed.
No horse ever entered the Preakness
without being properly groomed.
One’s laundry is judged by its whiteness
plus points for a three-cornered fold.
When windows are sparkling and streakless,
the housekeeper’s virtue’s extolled.
Affluence? The public will rate this
as, morally speaking, germane
and celebrate human uniqueness
according to obvious gain.
But…
A manifestation of greatness
akin to a solar eclipse
is proof of a dieter’s weakness.
It’s written all over her hips.
1999 Mary Boren
View Discussion
“Darkness will be preferred to light, and death will be thought more profitable than life; no one will raise his eyes to heaven; the pious will be deemed insane, and the impious wise; the madman will be thought a brave man, and the wicked will be esteemed as good.” -The Prophecy of Thoth
There will come a time, the ancients said,
when Planet Earth is severed from the Spirit.
As mystics strive to reconnect the thread
with sacred speech, the people will not hear it.
Redemption must go deeper than the words
to overthrow the pattern of stagnation
in human consciousness that undergirds
our currents of decline in co-creation.
For only when the willingness of one
and all anothers unified by reason
to forge ahead together has begun
will heaven manifest its winning season.
And each alone can activate the glue
that binds us to the cosmic retinue.
2020 Mary Boren
View discussion on this poem.
“No I can’t stop that, but I can stop what I’m doing to contribute to it.”
Image Source Neil deGrasse Tyson is silhouetted against the birth of the cosmos – the Big Bang – at the inception of the Cosmic Calendar and its vast 13.8 billion years of cosmic evolution.
My friend’s a statistician. He relates
when I describe the aptitude we hold
to steer a train of thought that resonates
enough to stop a conversation cold.
I once revealed my fondness for the craft
of poetry, and instantly the room
went solid. No one whispered; no one laughed;
each heartbeat thundered with a silent boom.
Comparing notes, my friend and I, in turn,
recount the times we’ve staked our standing on
delivering a topic fit to spurn,
and in the process stoked a common yawn.
For poets’ prattle absolutely numbs
his brain, and I’m averse to ciphered sums.
2002 Mary Boren
View Discussion
“My daddy changed the world.” Gianna Floyd,
at only six, already understands
that something monumental has occurred.
She joins the ranks of children left to bear
the burden of a murderous design
infused into the bedrock of our nation.
Four hundred years of history reveal
the willful subjugation of a line
of people who, despite the barricades,
survive in force to raise a mighty roar
that shatters all illusion. We must stand
in truth to finalize emancipation.
No longer will the platitudes suffice
nor “thoughts and prayers” assuage an open wound.
The time for reckoning is NOW, the day
will soon give way to dusk, the moment lost
forever if denial perseveres.
The case demands authentic reparation.
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
Shades of Twenty-Twenty vision
lie beneath abandoned cities
packed with disregarded lessons
of the centuries before.
Finally the veil has lifted,
there’s a purpose in tomorrow
and the memories are fading
from the year that brought the war.
Looking forward to commencement,
parties, proms, and lazy summer
leading into jobs or college,
we were only seventeen.
Some of us were undecided,
some had mapped a certain future
in the pattern of their parents.
Others saw behind the screen.
Since we entered kindergarten
we’d been tested, used, and herded
for political agendas
on the nation’s shrinking stage
so it wasn’t unexpected
when democracy imploded
in a world already reeling
from the chaos of the age.
Virus after virus followed,
claiming half the population.
News from other countries filtered
slowly through the riot zone
’til the power grid was severed.
While democracy imploded
we were scrabbling for survival.
Now we live on wits alone.
Here I stand, the single remnant
from a family of seven,
flanked by unified companions
whose intention can increase
coexistence with the planet.
Taking only what is needed,
with the help of one another
we will make a lasting peace.
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
A canopy of cumulus projection
aligns itself enticingly and spills
its cotton candy succulent confection
across the canvas of the Texas hills.
A viewer, from the vantage of a hammock,
anticipates the daily matinee
with vapors in their drama-packed dynamic
of interactive whimsical display.
But, looking down upon the scene, King Cirrus
harumphs a haughty epithet, “The stage
is mine alone today!” And with the merest
regard he scatters all in jealous rage.
The lively cast of Comal County Clouds
will never fail to entertain the crowds.
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
Coronavirus slithered through the sea
to wake a nation unprepared to face
its own reflection. Stumbling in the dark,
the sleeping spirit stirs from shore to shore
as, shaking chains of partisan divide,
vibrations rise and rumble. Soon the chant
becomes a roar, “Let’s make a better choice!”
This unexpected intermission taps
the vast potential waiting in the wings.
From dormant ranks, new patriots emerge
with intellect, integrity, and love
for fellow citizens. They’ll show us how.
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
With the power to penetrate
the mystic guise and orchestrate
each mortal decision and consequence
I’d be a god you despise.
But with peace to liberate
all whose acts incarcerate
forgiveness and empathy deep within.
I’d show you how to relax.
And with joy to activate
the spirit’s lust to luminate
the dubious shadow on every face.
I’d be the knowledge you trust.
Boundless love to incarnate
with no intent to violate
respect for your license to co-create
rises on wings of consent.
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
I’ve pledged to stifle negativity
for forty days. In striving not to judge
another for the treatment given me,
I’ll dodge the bait to whine or hold a grudge.
It shouldn’t be a challenge to achieve
an altered state of transcendental bliss
if I can find the secret to deceive
emotion with a promise and a kiss.
But Ego has a credo of its own:
“Don’t give an inch in sowing discontent.”
Perception hangs as heavy as a stone
between the poles of stuck and free ascent.
With thirty days to go, I’m half inclined
to chuck it all and speak my monkey mind.
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
Once to every thinking person
comes a moment to decide
whether to improve or worsen
life for those who share the ride.
In a culture populated
equally by right and wrong,
half are glorified; half hated.
All must rise to get along.
Those who choose the path of kindness
have a duty to the horde
lacking empathy whose blindness
simply cannot be ignored.
Never will the sound of silence
in the wake of cruel deeds
be acceptable. Nonviolence
doesn’t mean “abandon needs”.
Standing up for truth and justice,
quell the panic, lest we fall
for a web of lies that thrust us
straight into the devil’s thrall.
Citizen of earth and nation
striving for the common good,
raise a thundering vibration
over every neighborhood.
Only in a coalition
born of passionate desire
can a movement gain volition
going forward through the fire.
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
The two opening lines are borrowed from a hymn written by James Russell Lowell in 1845.
With a weighty decision to make
I had better be fully awake
and aware of the options
lest mental concoctions
compel me to make a mistake.
So I’m giving the matter the bulk
of my serious thought. Choices hulk
like a gaggle of guesses.
No’s prudent, but yes is
less likely to lead to a sulk.
If I go the direction I like
it will cost me an hour on the bike,
but this cookie I’m holding
is well worth the scolding
I’ll get from a blood sugar spike!
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
I see you coming, melancholy mood,
descending like a demon eighteen-wheeler
from out of nowhere racing to occlude
my passage through perception’s truth-concealer.
I’m drifting in bewildering terrain,
white-knuckled now, my eyes are turning glassy.
As wretched shocks dislodge me from my lane,
I can’t escape the damage to my chassis.
With wanderlust careening off the road,
it takes a heap of strength to hold the center.
The labored engine threatens to explode
before my awe-struck psyche starts to splinter.
But wait—I have a built-in safety pillow—
I’ll stomp the brakes and let the airbags billow!
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
I stand without apology
in offering this greeting
from Planet Ignalarious
where train of thought is fleeting.
Our version of your Earth giraffe
has fifteen toes and flippers
with purple hide that’s puncture-proof,
immune to flea-born nippers.
Our cabbage-flavored water flows
from pumps on all five corners.
Our blocks are round, our heads are square
with built-in lie dehorners.
We brought our ethnic orchestra
to serenade your breakfast.
Our champion freehand yodeller
will cue you to expect us.
We’re all completely certified
as pure non compos menace
without an ounce of enmity
to sour the pudding in us.
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
A fading dream’s elusive silhouettes
dance softly on my window shade at dawn
to remnants of a half-remembered song
as if to nudge awake what time resets.
So down a labyrinthine corridor
I chase the animated shadow’s tail
with pure intentionality, yet fail
to reinvent the guise it wore before.
You say the pragmatist within me knows
its visage drips with jewel-studded strands
parading on the stage with sick demands,
but I reject the path that poser goes.
For January brings a reckoning
in rituals to renovate the soul.
With White Stone Meditation / Burning Bowl
the decade waits, its promise beckoning.
2020 Mary Boren
View Discussion
Though headlines clamor, voices blare
and bitter arguments abound
in every fearful sector where
the chaos of the world is found,
each hibernating embryo
refuses to restrain its flow
of love beneath the silent snow.
When social order seems to fall
into the clutch of grasping hands,
a waiting surge is poised to call
upon the truth that countermands
the venom of contagious lies
before its spread can fertilize
the hopelessness in mournful cries.
Within the calm collective dream
of all-inclusive peace on earth
the universe emits a beam
directing to our own rebirth.
May every seedling labor through
the obstacles that block our view
of fellow feeling born anew.
2019 Mary Boren
View Discussion on this Poem
“Don’t say fall to an old person.”
Falling leaves us vulnerable
in ways we might not choose,
but I am here to testify
that fall enhances views.
I fall in love with others
through honest stories shared
without regard for ego’s lie
that souls must not be bared.
We gather in October,
absorb the river’s peace
and let the healing laughter fly
as worldly noises cease.
Then Spirit’s own agenda
reveals itself in songs
& words & tears to teach us why
each Child of God belongs.
In unity with powers
that fall like autumn leaves
we fertilize the old sod’s cry
for gifts the spring retrieves.
The Universal Oneness
we recognize in all
replenishes its vast supply
of love in leaves that fall.
Before she’s drawn a second breath or viewed
her mother’s face, a newborn seeks the breast.
No special training’s needed, there’s no test
for measuring a baby’s aptitude
or mother’s love. The cycle is renewed
as fed becomes the feeder, doubly blessed
with strength. Instinctively, we all ingest
the substance packed in life-sustaining food.
So why should care and feeding of the soul
be shrouded in enigma? Through the worst
imponderable doubts, our Living Guide
extends a standing offer: “Here’s a bowl
of hearty stew for free.” And with a burst
of sight, the inner cynic’s pacified.
o0o
2000 Mary Boren
