The Seed of the Burning Tree

The Seed of the Burning Tree


i stand knee deep in burning coals
waist high in bombs bursting light
eyes filled with poisonous gas
ears to the crackling wind

i kneel deep in daisy filled garden
soft breeze caressing my face
tear drops coursing the river
bird song in my ear

i lie on the ground hugging
holding least i fall further
than i can remember being
down in the deep deep well

i turn to face my Maker
i cry, “o Maker face me!”
give me just one reason,
or take this cup.”

the crackling wind is silent
the air is sweet & pure
i see a tree in the garden
it burns but does not die

“My child, & you are my child
My love, and you are my love
You are the seed of the burning
Tree, and you and I are one.”

Originally published at on Feb 1, 2005 @ 17:02

In the Shallows Poem by Summer Breeze

Summer solace painting

Summer solace painting

In the shallows
by Summer Breeze

In the shallows of our past
remembered shadows
heart broken clean
of entanglements and fairy tales
Camelot was not
akin to our dreams of real
in our frenzied recreation
needed now it is a good time
to rampart the battlements
of fear and greed
the poet dreams
dips a pen in the deep well
informs the other
“You are loved”

First Published at on Nov 30, 2004 @ 15:05 CST

When next i am to sleep again poem by Edy Benjamin

when    next i am to sleep again
will    you be there with sheepish grin
i    will not brush nor turn away
see    you not in yesterday
again    we make the figure 8

bells    go tingling in the night
books    unwritten taking flight
candles    dim but light is longer

midnight    come and we will go now

the nightmare came strongly to a him repulsive kiss
before he half collapsed
his arm over her shoulder her arm around his waist
she would find him a hospital bed medical help
white nurse offensive
fat lady without compassion (expected)
phones had secret codes
who were patients non discernibile
over an hour she supported him
walking thru a maze of hallways
once she woke and remembered
all her nightmares took place in hospitals
falling back asleep she was there
still seeking hospital bed and help
“ok” her self said, “wake up”

coffeed and tobaccoed

the hopes and fears thru all the years
rest in autumn peace
the struggle with no resolution
put to rest
in it’s own halls of circularity
as piano man ‘splained
“too much mercy is wasteful,
too lightening bolt heavy is non justice.”

and Jesus said to Moses,
“What the crap happened
to Abraham’s children?”

justice lives not only in the now
sometimes it’s waiting in some halfway house
between the blood-letting and the peace
only with justice

what will reflect the blood on distant hands
that fashioned the knife
that foresaw the bomb
that Jack and Jill built?
that support the men
who light the fires
that scream the women
that scars the child.
does he hang down his head
Tom Dooley
or does he just look away
and dulled his senses
to no sense.

Is their hope Hooey?
Ah, Louie,
paint them a picture
from May to December
of eleven year old children or so
then when they remember if they remember they’ll
(you know)
their heart.

Early Artvilla

I have decide to talk more, to run my mouth as if I haven’t already. I have decided that most of you are at work and have no Facebook or Youtube and you are just bored enough to read me. Thanks to all employers for giving Artvilla a boost.

I find myself missing the html pages. To many of you those are just letters. So you’ll know the difference here is The Rower by Seymour Shubin, a great poem.  As you can see, the old html format was downright beeeeuuutiful.
Why change?

The new format is WordPress and PHP… automatic way to make standardized web pages with sidebars on every page. Quite honestly it took a lot of time to do it the old way and there are no sidebars and more button clicking for the user. All the new features of the new way are wonderful but technology always leaves something behind. All day today I will add suggestions for our thousands of pages from 1998 through 2011.

Here is our most visited page from 1998 until today. It is a place all it’s own and does not need referral. It gets it’s traffic from search engines. It was published in 1998. It is a phrase people ask for every day, a see you poem, an every time I see you poem, a combination of words that clicked in many arrangement of some of those word, our Every time I see you poem

Early poems include early poets who I wish would return like Marilyn McIntyre, poets who dont’t know how good they are like Joan Pond and wonderfully productive and creative writers like Janet Kuypers. Great poets I can’t seem to squeeze poems out of,  like Andy Derryberry.

Artvilla’s associations with her sister site has brought associations with poets like Ken Peters, Daisy Sidewinder, and Dandelion De La Rue and Summer Breeze and many others.

The earliest poems were without much decoration, like The Squirrel…………Wayne Jackson…Thousand and thousands of children have asked for a squirrel poem over the years. I’ve always said that I keep this site up for my brother’s squirrel poem and it’s true.  The same story is true of my cloud poem. The squirel and cloud poems have waxed and waned in Google for many years but have been staples for children since 1998. Other people became rich on this net and I gave the kids a squirrel poem and a cloud poem. At least they are good ones.