POETRY FOR THE SOUL by JORIE RYAN

Natural  bamboo fountainPoetry is a great way to relax and explore the deeper meanings of life.  Jolie Ryan has published several books of poetry and has shared two poems with us.

Meniscus Full

They all said I was losing my grip
suspicious of the surly mechanic,
the ironing not done.
I worried for a while
took care with my hair
washed the windows,Всплески воды
even paid the bills on time.

The precise place of finding
was in dreaming.
We all dream of the light
falling just on us,
of finding the lost child.

The sweet disorder of my mind
spins me into my own spaces.
I stretch my arms and run.
It seems as though this joy
will swallow all I did not want to be.

わき水で手を洗うI lift my breasts after a shower,
laugh at being a woman
and feel my belly firm
after forty six years of living
and sex on Saturdays.

I want my life to be meniscus full
and if a single drop spills
I will carry it away to a secret place
and bathe in the overflow.

Jorie Ryan (from ‘Fallen Angel’)

Painting

CourtyardIt is the preparation that is key;

sandpaper folded round the block

and bumps and scratches rubbed away

in a slow circularity, no beginning,

no end. And then the washing off,

other lives and squanderings

reduced to specks  gathered in a rag

and flicked into the garden.

A wall presents itself

patched and peeled,

Greek rural houses among cypresses and olive treesstill strong and holding firm,

persistent in its being wall,

waiting for restoration.

The tin is opened and pearlised paint

smooth as cream is stirred and stirred

small waves and ripples

threatening to overflow the edge,

no shape except itself, still free,

a state of expectation. The day

is freshly opened and passes down

an unknown track. There are even birds

calling as they fly into the labour

of their morning.

The brush fills with paint and stroke on stroke

the wall travels into a light clearing space,

stains revoked like unanswered crimes

no longer kept account.

On and on until the afternoon

and another valley found and filled,

paint settling into wholeness with the wall

till both are one

and something new is waiting.

Jorie Ryan