Passage Friends Meeting
Island & Kitsap County
Agate Passage Friends are includes some
wonderfully creative spirits
yearning to share their output with us.
This is the place to
share your own creations or to share with others
some of the things you
Coasting Through Puddles
Haiku of Childhood - a selection
|by Robert Major
||Shiny red rainboots ...
he goes out of his way
to stomp through puddles
some tulips and butterflies
turn the wrong way 'round
||Coming home from school
she steps over every crack
humming to herself
||Standing on tiptoe
she offers us her bouquet
|Caught up in her play
we drink the just-pretend tea
in a circle ...
children wait for a turtle
to thrust out its head
Regime Change, A Growing Longing
Friends Bulletin, September 2003
walked abroad this early dawn,
Fir tops whipping a slate gray sky,
Mulling issues of war and peace,
My longing for a seasoned leader,
One who can learn from history,
Who takes council from the wind,
Who loves passion all woods and seas,
Grows in me with each gust and turn.
My yearning quickens. Why cannot our nation
Call forth a chief with
Where is our wise
Who has moved through anger, fear, despair
To compassion? Where is a President with soul,
Who cares for all
our planet's peoples,
creatures, water, air and soils,
Who insists on every means to find the peaceful way?
A branch crashes almost at my feet.
Just then I
recall the words of Tolstoy:
"A nation empowers the leader it deserves!"
"Can this be true?" I ask the wind,
Sighing now in sadness.
Morning on Bainbridge
A stretch of
In their demeanor spreads
Across the dawn sky.
Behind that line is fire.
On the floor
below the tower room
where I write now, Jack's study nurtures
a praying, reading person once more,
offers a haven where calm pervades.
this house, is hallowed
for growth. The tone of blooming
forsythia, the flowering of a well-pruned
plum mock any being who here
and does not flourish like the coming light.
The sun rises, in spite of everything.
Lesson & other poems
He said, "There
is no sudden way
to mastery. Training the eye and hand
and heart takes time, and willingness
to risk mistakes that lead to
Then he smiled.
"There's nothing really wrong that
you can do except not working at it
day by day - - Looking deep into the lights
and shapes and shadows of the world,
laying out your colors, taking up
the brush, giving yourself to
the shameless white of the paper."
on the dock,
The Limits of String
Having escaped the clutch of hands,
grip of gravity
this cluster of balloons has
soared through wind and sleet to
the top of the leafless tree outside my window.
There, caught by the their tangled strings,
for a week, still plump and faintly glossy,
they twist and tug, bouncing and amazing
leaping in the freezing cold, red and purple,
blue against green. (Only one has shrunk,
shriveled, and follows limply the mad, shuddering dance.)
Today they seem to be frantic for release,
struggling to rise to their full potential, longing
to be flung upward by their terrible inner lightness
into a vast oblivion.
their constant motion be instead an
ecstatic dance in praise of the limits of string,
An expression, gratitude for
the strength of their tether that holds them
close together while they wait
for the green scent of budding trees,
for the songs of passing birds; now,
simply glad to be high enough to
catch the silver sheen of winter rain,
and the first cold light of the rising sun.
-- Millie Royce
(witnessed from a fourth floor apartment window in Manhattan, January 2000)
The Bhagavad Gita
"Be in Peace
in pleasure and pain,
in gain and in loss
in victory or in
the loss of battle.
In this Peace
there is no sin.
This is the wisdom
of Sankya -
the vision of
the wisdom of yoga,
Path of the Eternal
No step is lost
on this path,
and no dangers
a little progress
-- Millie Royce
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