Taproot

This poem was born while reading one of May Sarton’s Journals where she refers to the taproot within herself.

Taproot, descending from the essence of my being,
Grow strong, grow straight, deep down
Into the Ground of my existence,
Into the Godhead, the Trinity;
Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Nourish my soul, my being, with love and strength.

© Judith Lawrence

Syllable of Soul-light

This poem was written on a line from a poem by Lalla—
a 14th century Indian Mystic

Syllable of soul-light
Enter me
Fill me
Overflow me.

One tiny morsel
Is enough;
One pin-point
Glow expands, reflects,
Overflows my banks.

I long for this
One-toned Syllable;
I’m filled with this
One-toned Syllable;

I become this
One-toned Syllable;
I’m filled with light;
I’m radiating light;

I’m surrounded by
The one-toned
Syllable of soul-light.

© Judith Lawrence

Haiku Offerings

1. God Delights in Morning

Hear flute’s melody
God delights in morning Lauds
Hidden hermit thrush.

2. No Thorns

Maltese cross flowers
Blood red petals ring glory
Christ crowned without thorns.

3. Light

Last night sliver moon
Lay on its back, its only
Light its own being.

© Judith Lawrence

Like Lotus Petals

As all creation unfolds
Energy explodes in prayer.

The butterfly emerging
From the chrysalis
Opens its wings and
Flies aloft in prayer.

Bulbs’ leaves push through
The lately snow-covered
Ground and petals
Open in flowers of
Crocus, daffodil,
Lily and hyacinth.

Baby birds emerge from
Eggs and fledge from
Nests in a matter of days.
Young wild animals
Mature in a matter of months.

They write creation
On the forest floor
Flora and fauna alike
Unfold in cosmic prayer.

Humans, evolving into
Spiritual beings, unfold
Slowly and steadily,
Their souls open to
God like lotus petals
In the morning sun.

Dandelion Clocks

Imagination soars on wings of dragonflies
To other countries, other times.
My mouth takes in deep breaths and
Tells the hours on dandelion clocks.

I harness myself to a seed parachute
And lazy seconds drift by on air currents.
I land beside yellow violets and
White flower-promises of wild strawberries.

I sate myself with innocent moments
Of childhood home and yesteryear memories.
Then mystical chariot of winged dragonflies
Transports my satisfied soul to the now.

(The photo is of Judith at a young age with her mother in her home town of Brecon, Wales.)

Trapped in Dawn’s Hour

Morning dawns with darkened sky,
Rain teems down.
Bound in dreams, at edge of night,
I cannot wake from sleep.

Visions unfold and I would follow
Along their paths.
I’m caught up in their web, nor would I
Escape from their enchanted spell.

Voices call for me to come and do my share
Of morning chores;
Echoed words confuse and trap the call
In misted dreams.

Second and minute hands intertwine
Weaving and circling in time.
Is it minutes or hours I’ve lingered here?
Am I trapped in this dream
Or a willing participant?

© Judith Lawrence June 2010

Daisies

This photo shows a mixture of white daisies, sweet william and lilies. Perhaps the young girl's beau was named William.





White-petaled blooms
Stand tall, stiff-stalked.
They hold the secrets
Of a young girl’s future.

They serve to make a daisy chain
For the cherished,
A crown for the maiden’s head,
And to answer the question:
Does he love me yet?

He loves me;
He loves me not, she chants,
And strews white petals in a circle
All around her on the ground.

And when the answer is not to her liking,
She plucks another flower,
And another,
Repeating her question
Until the answer is right.