Silent Sentinels of Truth

The sweltering day is winding down
and the shadows are lengthening.
As the summer nears its solstice,
the activity in the trees
(even by the insects) has
succumbed to a lazy, dampened
sluggishness of seeking shade
from the intensity that still pierces
through the canopy of the grove.

Dappled now, the waning sunlight
glimmers like miniature beacons
amongst the undergrowth as a
passes through the leaves.

Their stillness belies their discipline
as Watchmen in this quiet glade.
This grouping of oaks has been
steadfast sentries for hundreds
of years. Some have been lost to
old age and storms but most have
weathered What Has Come with
grace and fortitude.

They are the Silent Sentinels of Truth.
They yield when necessary without
betrayal. They hold steady without
defiance. Their boldness is tempered
by their enduring humility.
They abide without beliefs or religion
but serve and embrace all who
seek their refuge, looking to each
with equanimity.

These magnificent nobilities are
regal treasures to be revered.
They breathe and take sustenance,
grow and expand in awareness.
They begin soft and supple
riding the waves of squalls,
pliant to the extreme of
temperatures that threaten
their tender stems
and roots, but somehow thrive
and become dignified beings
of uprightness, integrity
and reliability.

Vero Oaks at Sunset; Artwork by Johnson Hagood

(The origin and history of the word “Vero” is from the Latin word vērus (“true”). As a noun it means “Truth” and as an adverb (Latin) it means “Truly, really in truth.” This appears to be universally “true,” EXCEPT IN FINNISH AND RAPA NUI.)

Visit Poets United for some quality writing and community with other writers.

Lady With the Birds


“Lady With the Birds”; Painting by Sunita Khedekar

Her eyes were pavonated
like the feathers of the peacock
that was her constant companion,
and lightly encircled with deep topaz.
The effect was stunning.
Shiny, silky atrous hair
framed a delicate, porcelain countenance
that equaled her kindly demeanor.
But her outward beauty was
not why the avian world
was attracted to her presence.
It was her ease with and acceptance
of all feathered and winged creatures.
Since a small child, she doted on
and cared for fallen nestlings.
The injured or lost found their
way to her capable and
encompassing spirit.
She spoke to them in low,
gentle coos and trills and was
recognized as one of their own.
Her daily sadhana was
performed under the spreading
canopy of the village banyan tree.
As she relaxed in contemplation,
birds of all size and hue would
gather close…quiet, respectful,
in repose…understanding her
communion with the All Loving One.
They felt her peace; they knew her love.
Her gaze emitted a celestial, pale blue
light, the soul light of the Blue Pearl.
Stillness and harmony reigned, hearts
merged between woman and bird.
There was no separation.

Today at dVerse Poets, Grace introduces us to the spectacular artwork of Sunita Khedekar as inspiration. I chose her painting, “Lady With the Birds.” Thank you to Grace, and to Sunita for your generosity in sharing your work with us.

Lives Converge

Sea Turtle; Painting by Jan Odum, All Rights Reserved

As if held in mid air, undulating waves
support your massive-shelled form
our eyes lock, human and turtle merge.
For an instant, I see your life engraved
in my mind, struggles, survival…warm
currents drifting you on long-distance surges.
You mirror my own life, enslaved
through my making, a land storm
not the sea, just held on the verge
of contentment, joy, my soul saved,
and yet, like you, I continue to conform,
to deny myself freedom, afraid to emerge.
We follow paths that seemingly diverge,
yet here, where we meet, our lives converge.

The artwork above was painted by my most talented sister, Jan Odum.

Samuel Peralta invites us to try a Trireme Sonnet and other interesting ideas at dVerse Poets:


Satsuma lithophane tea cup
delicate, vintage, porcelain piece.
Geisha coyly gazes through bottom’s intaglio.
Textured, intricate moriage, painted gold, showcases
heavily embellished Japanese figures and
enhances their depth and dimension.
Carefully hand-painted to add affect–
with fragile features colorfully outlined,
wearing elaborate costumes,
depicting tales of historical lore
or ardent lovers’ interludes.
Landscape scenes and encircling dragons
add mythic charm to the surface,
an allure rich with detailed art and beauty.

Satsuma teacup and plate


Lithophane of Geisha

Photos:  Google Images

Satsuma is a Japanese style of pottery noted for its intricate designs using Japanese figures, landscape scenes and sometimes dragons.  The designs can also feature a form of decoration called moriage which is a term used to describe raised enamel often painted with gold.  I own a tea cup of this pottery (exactly like the one in the photo) which I received as a gift.  It is over 100 years old and has the beautiful texture of moriage for which it is so well known.  And to my delight has a lithophane as shown here of a Geisha in the bottom of the cup.

It’s Wonderful???Wednesday #2–Weird at Poets United:

After seeing the prompt, I couldn’t help but share this about my Satsuma teacup.  I only have the one cup and I don’t use it for tea drinking…it’s decorative only.  I too think it’s more wonderful than weird!


Big Room, 1948,  by Andrew Wyeth

Afternoon light filters the once upon a dreams
Abandoned farmhouse letting go of days gone by
Filled, once, with lives who moved downstream
Memories held fast in the bricks, mortar and beams
There, to recall, with a melancholy sigh
Afternoon light filters the once upon a dreams
Love happened here, as well as sorrowed screams
Lives at once ordinary but somehow gone awry
Filled, once, with lives who moved downstream
All has become sepia-toned, ashen, gone the gleam
Secrets, deceits, untruths, never revealed by-and-by
Afternoon light filters the once upon a dreams
Empty and hollow, a sour taste it would seem
How is it people falter, trip and choose to deny
Filled, once, with lives who moved downstream
This house could have been a home with a melodic theme
Yes, tidy, kept clean, orderly, just so, but lacked an ally
Afternoon light filters the once upon a dreams
Filled, once, with lives who moved downstream

The Mag # 132 :


glowing embers fired

within the open kiln

heating the pot inside

nearly two thousand degrees

blazing shape of clay

into a steel can is placed

with papers shredded fine

to etch upon its face

glazed pot explodes in color

designs of patterns form

distinct and uniquely their own

raku–ancient art of Japan

Raku pot

A photo of one of my Raku pieces.  It’s a favorite art form of mine.

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