Hunters Blog

neanderthal now

             in the day
             bright flowers lay
             on the mound in prehistoric ground 
             ancient rite
             at the site
             mourners wait
             in the round for the dark,
             listening to song of lark
             tears in eyes, fighting flies            
             hoping their stone carved leaves
             would save the bodies from disease
             they worked so hard to put underneath
             knowing next sun they might be there too,
             no fear, just grieving, what more to do?

             their minds prepare to catch their food
             mens' arms round women nursing baby brood
             all different, all the same
             waiting for the night to reign.

                                                                 for two spiritual warriors

                                                                     Richard Hugo Reeve- my late father

                                                                     George Walter Mabe-step father

 

                                                despair doth hope

      my wild wolf is orange and black

     crying out to moon to bring him back

     my poodle waits for love will come

     she has her season by her thumb

     when all do go this two will stay

     adoring me in every day and hour

     forcing me to see the flower.

    

     My new life hurts like growing childs' legs

     Heart is wounded like a s h attered seg

     Meant for another, only I stood in their path

    Elated for them until their pain did hath

    Me crawling on the ground, a babe, an aged womyn

     Crossed with blood and dirty semen,

     I will force myself to heal so my sons stand strong as flowering steel

     Their progeny shall be their children and their winding wheel

      That makes their manhood golden, their spirits reel. 

 

 

                         The core is red as heart

                         The petals are gold, delicate--often blown

                          The tree beside it burned, the roots did moan

                           Huge ungreedy yellow flower fragments flew,

                           Around the trunk, dissolving the fire with evening dew.

                           Then rain poured down and did its part. 

 

                 

         

 

 

 

 

I love the gold gauge in my eyes
It takes me to precious children,
Startling sunsets.  It pierces through red arrows
Lands on ashes and then begins again

We lost your little brother though I'm finding him again
Shooting bow and arrows in the happy hunting ground,
Courage protector even for the darkest angels.
He smiles and says "Mom," don't be sorry.  I learned a lot,
And tell my brother, I can tower over all of you
With hugs and lasting care.  I finally learned that
Love is.  Listen to the birds passing over you
My heart rhythms still remain.

                       For Matthew Shawn Lawson
 
                       In memoriam Gregory Michael Walker

Tony and Christi running down the beach
Following their beautiful little big brown eyed dog
Enjoying their special family, looking out at blue green
Ocean, seeing endless adventures of emerging life, glowing growth,
Stopping to view golden sunset, Nikki frolicking on Tony's lap,
All secure in the orange impending moon and boundless silver stars.

He's playing the violin while Nikki  and Christi look in joyous wonder
Why can't we live precious moments more like this?
Collect sea shells, make any kind of music, and run through redwoods,
Combine new families in courage and enduring love?

                                                                 for Tony Cehetti

 

It was a lovely afternoon over two thousand years ago in the area now called Big

Sur, California. A beautiful grey haired woman led her two grandchildren in

weaving baskets by the clear flowing water. The girl laughed as her grandmother

joked with them; the younger brother waved to his father fishing across the river.

Her son, their father, walked over the river on a bridge made of logs; he laughed as

he accidently slipped into the water in shallow ater missing the last log. He still

carried his fish and pole as he waved them triumpantly. After he shook the water

off of him, they all watched the orange-yellow sunset. They felt happy and peaceful

as they home through the tall redwoods.It was a sunny day at the beach in

Monterey, California in 1850. A teen-aged boy chased his nine year old brother

down the shallow part of the water. Suddenly the younger boy stopped and ran into

the ocean until the waves went over his head. The teen-ager ran into the water after

him. "Tommy, stop! Come back!" John Pitkin Jr. screamed. John reached his

brother as the younger boy's head bobbed up and then back down into the water.

John grabbed his brother and forced his head above water and rushed him to

shore. He put Tommy on his stomach and applied pressure to his upper back.

Tommy coughed up water and regained consciousness. "Thank God! Why did you

do that, Tommy!" Tommy coughed again and John helped him sit up. Tommy

grasped on to John's hand. "Dad hurt me before you came home. I just wanted to

die!" "He'll never touch you again. I promise. I'll tell him that I'll take you away."

"Really," Tommy said in disbelief. "Come on. I'll take you home." John helped his

brother up and put his arm around him as they walked away.

Heart beat of waves crowned by luminous clouds.

Pink indicates the rise of dawn. You are there with others.

Your spirit looms on your momentous magical path, first softly,

Rainbow lights surround your initial journey--freed from time.

Your spirit rises above those who see you, you reach

Out to them and will guide them, yet ebb and flow is yours.

Magnificent; there is no height or depth too difficult for you have found

Shooting stars--bright glowing worlds of deepest joy.

                                   in memoriam of my dearest friend Ralyn Moore

This rage doth keep me holy

I should grow

Like rare rose glowing

In dark snow.

I will die yet I will surely know

Red love and passion

Flowing from my soul.