Rules

Rules have rubberized

lost their erected stiffness

and are more like a wave,

pliable, still connected but

able to make adjustments.

Rules enflamed with strange

possibilities, leading the argument for

erratic purity.

Secret rules made individual,

measured by how they inspire, how they

sustain inspiration and that is all.

Rules like bamboo, alive, fed by the angels,

malleable as hope, mature

with equal strength and flexibility.

Rules to abide by,

honour the turning of the clock,

allowing for precision, grounding

and Dog Star following,

roaming bright, invigorated.

Copyright © 2022 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “New Mystics” July 2022

https://www.newmystics.com/lit/AllisonGrayhurst.html

New Mystics July 2022 AllisonGrayhurst-9Poems

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

Waterfall

Sweet and long

is the blooming tide

to take me over the dam,

pushing me down the waterfall,

graduating to reckless exhilaration.

I belong to the tender aftermath

the peace of the freed captive,

the relief that lies in wait

of every oblivious soul.

I belong to the late-spring fields

and the baptism of butterflies.

I will take no misdeeds with me

to this elevated service.

I will cut out the tongue

of any discovered demon,

let them know

they have no resources

or influence.

Copyright © 2022 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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.

First published in “New Mystics” July 2022

https://www.newmystics.com/lit/AllisonGrayhurst.html

New Mystics July 2022 AllisonGrayhurst-9Poems

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

Fountain

A fountain sits

in the centre of my backyard,

watering and shading the mourning doves

pecking at the dirt below.

Yet I am deep in a hazardous denial,

giving weight to an illusion that

bonds me to the desert and

sand dunes rolling as far

as my eyes can see.

So deep I cannot see the fountain

or the backyard or

the delicate joy of choice.

Today I will make a decision

step onto the platform

and take my chances.

In this place, this quiet morning,

I will feel myself changed, unchained.

Then, I will start to dig into the sands

until I find a wetness burning, keep digging

until I release a rising flow,

a personal permanent resurrection.

Copyright © 2022 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

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First published in “The Wise Owl – Ochre Edition” July 2022

https://www.thewiseowl.art/fountain

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below: