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Tree of Life
Butterflies flitter, flutter, fly
Dancing for flowers
Around the tree of life
To drink, from the heart of beauty
Brilliant sustenance
Each sip a kiss, a heartbeat
Each person we love
Our flowers, Our butterflies
Our sustenance
You, Jessica, are the bluebird of
happiness
Circling
Singing the love, sorrows and joys
Surrounding, nurturing
the tree of life
For Jessica’s 54th birthday, 9/11/2021 & the blessing she brings. Love, your dad, James
How far we fly away in dreams
So far
So here and now
Last night we hopped upon a bicycle seat
An in Venice took a spin
We seemed to dance upon the water
on rock back street or water top
No sail, nor fin, or rudder
Just laughter and adventure fluid
Dancing through our veins
Feet twirling past black gondolas
And singing gondoliers
We rode upon a bridge
Brazen signs barked Beware!
Off the bikes we jumped
pushing towards the barricade
ladders, traps blue & orange
paint cans, masonry tools
blocked the passage
but a gap
we slid through a gap between
the walls
followed song with eyes
a Baritone Romeo sang rapturously
from a balcony so so high
across the way his Juliet
in sweet soprano sighed a kiss
a musical confection so silent
we heard with heart not ear
on bikes we spider up the wall
defying gravity
and then
the couple fly away
We are in a raw red striped room
Floor a blue, yellow stripe highway
A roaring rusting red pickup
burst through the walls
a waterfall we now ride down
the truck swims under away
Upon the canal
a baker walks out balancing bread upon his head
bakery goods and confections taunt air and
eyes
an elegant woman in red spiked heels towers
by
her red silk dress luscious upon her milk
chocolate skin
a Hassid enters a lovely candy shop
windows filled with stars of David
strawberry Torahs scrolled like sailing arks
A dock appears and up we ride
into a Japanese street, with curtains hanging
halfway down
soba, ramen smells beckon us in
a sudden intrusion of McD, his arches taunting
bows
arrow us quickly back to water, the Grand
Canal to see
merrily into sunset ride, with friends and
family
Sunset really is the morning, as rays awake
my eyes
We Biked in Silly land refreshed
an invigorating, heavenly, dreamland ride . . .
For Libby Hillhouse, with memories/dreams from Robert
Manning & the light he showed upon this earth that continues on, growing
inside us in a garden built on love
For a lovely party of family & friends to celebrate Bob Manning, on 22 August 2021
love, James
©james m.
frase-white July 2021
he
walked into the dream
We
darkened the room to see like him
blueblack
on a black rainy night
to
awake the dead
the
dead as the goal of living
the
living lost in the unknown past
child
borne sorrow we talked with him
He whispered into his ears
telling of
the
missing ones
ancestors
gone blank
blind
closed-eye-blind to the existence
of
what they have wrought
a
zipper undone, clothing ripped, passions torn
lashed/splashed/dashed
birth
unloaded into life
haunting
the living unknown
they wept in tears
Oh, if only I knew how to hold them in comfort
j.m.frase-white, dreamscape 7.23.2021
A Poem for Amy
How
astonishing it was to wake this morn
trees
grow one step greener
forming
leaves, little goddess gifts
Birds burst
in joyous mating songs
Sudden
thoughts return to the loss of you
Taken
in the night to the cavern of death
To die
when Spring is dawning
It
seems so wrong that you are gone
The
breath of life exhaled
Your
loss refutes renewal of Earth
The
daffodils bow their heads
And
call for mother sun
We
wish you could do the same
As we
hold you in our blood, in heart
In
memories, in mind, in visions
Illusions
to the flesh of you
Your
kind and loving voice
A
laughter that we’ll hear inside
A life
you gave so freely of
Farewell,
kind heart, dear love
Amy, you kept us well, the world a better place
With all our love, from Jim & Chuck
(Amy M. Sullivan 1958 – 2021)
Bird Psalm
Hummingbirds jet
in butterfly flutters
red green ornaments
of summer exuberance
iridescent dancers
among
rainbows of blossoms
§
Bluebirds flit
above green fields
a dash of sky over
fertile grass
& Swifts in
purple
black & white
across lakes and
ponds
scooping up the
abundances
of hovering buzzing
flies
§
Robin redbreast
sings at dawn to call
the sun awake then
dance upon the
greening ground
a worming they
partake
§
Crows attune robin’s
morning song
squawk language loud and strong
to guide their
friends to treats
tempering the
feathered flocks
to feast the bounty of the land
§
Buzzards circling
round
swallow up the fate
of death
devouring, tearing
feasts of flesh
in tidy jagged bites
cleaning up the world
they rule with
funerary care
§
Flitting among the
bushes
you see them now you
don’t
the wren and sparrow
spin
their songs in melody
unmatched
we humans imitate
we warble not so well
songs resound
gargling bells
among secret bowers
swell
§
Screeching harshly
the blue jay reigns
a crown upon its head
Red Cardinal too
less raucously
proclaims
its noble heavenly
birth
dancing, hopping on
earth
and tree, up upon
thee
We bow no matter how
we dress or decorate
we cannot touch the
wealth
or elegance of flight
§
The hidden Bittern sound so deep
secreted among the reeds
blended in, even frogs
confuse the hollow dropping sound
On open pond
at dusk and dawn
the longing, lingering
lachrymose Loon
we listen with repose
attired in stunning black & white
Loon croons a soulful tune
§
Snowy Egret purifies
in
Virgin white, above
Blue Heron soaring
form
we view in worshiped
awe
the beauty haunting
time
what colors can dare
approach
Wood Ducks stylish trim?
We humans dazzle, yes
in sequins, stones,
shiny rocks
brag like Parrots
pirate talk
in movie stars or
bishops frocks
our ruby slippers
& golden crowns
substitute
Nature bestows pure honor
to our feathered
friends
who flute & mimic with noble songs
abraid with screech
and hoot
swift Owls at night
who gently coo
Seagulls laugh and
caw
we are a part of this
wild world
in mock civility
and evil strife
§
Enjoy the color in
flocks
and flight of fowls
We all are most blesséd
to be among the wingéd
Wonder of these
companions
our own angel dream
can only just imagine
no matter how we sing
these traits we
borrow, not own
so let us give a
gracious bow & thank
fowl friends on Earth
©j.marshall frase-white Spring 2019
Proud boy
10th
birthday bb gun
No more
toy TV Wild West
six-shooter
Wyatt,
Hoppalong,
heir of
Roy and Dale
Out stalking
game
no paper
targets, tin cans
practicing
for those hunting days
I’d find
manly honor at 14
old
enough for my own shotgun
Easter
Recess, in the large playground
circling my
two-room school
ducking
under the jungle gym bars
(I’d
knocked myself out there
fallen
Tarzan of the Apes)
Into the
grove of budding
shellbark
hickory trees
50 foot
up atop one
A Proud song
sparrow
trills for love, in
praise of Spring
perfect
target
raising,
aiming, squeezing
crack
b.b. pop right
on spot
a loud
silence
falling
falling
falling
that hush
still rings inside
