Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

Woman dressed in white

I tell you
how the water
turned blue
how the boat headed
toward the horizon
the motor beating like a heart
of the woman dressed in white
preparing herself for the moment
24 white roses
in her arms
she knew his longing
I tell you
she meant to remain strong
yet faltered

April 24, 2008
~ Gwen C. Murray


Monday, July 24, 2017

Traveling through the years

Ode to a 70 Year Old

In New Guinea, Lahore or Kathmandu
Sleeping in beds not made for two
Admiring the beautiful Taj Mahal
Awake in Africa for the lion’s call
In Borneo we were often seen
The choice for headhunter’s new cuisine
Around the world I’ve traveled with you
I will follow you into your seventies too.

~ Gwen C. Murray


Monday, April 10, 2017

Time on a hill side

The Cold Hill Side
As months and years accumulate,
I miss you more and more.
Forgetting where I put the key,
I sometimes find a door
and other times feel stunned and lost,
though living in my own
body and life, presumably,
bewildered and alone
as the knight, kidnapped and released
to a dim world, who said
And I awoke and found me here
on the cold hill side.
by Rachel Hadas July 23, 2007


Saturday, November 5, 2016

Imagination

I believe imagination is stronger than knowledge
That myth is more potent than history
That dreams are more powerful than facts
That hope triumphs over experience
That laughter is the only cure for grief
And I believe that love is stronger than death


~ Author Unknown



Monday, October 24, 2016

Talk to me of nothing

“You smiled and talked to me of nothing and I felt that for this I had been waiting long.” ― Rabindranath Tagore
All photos below taken by Gwen C. Murray on an overland trip with her husband Jerry from Beijing to Pakistan in September/October of 1994.




Monday, September 12, 2016

The Dowager

The Dowager Empress of China

Fattened like a Buddha
Filled her mouth with the state jewels
Kept her talon nails
Long, curved and blood red
Like ancient lacquered knives
Protecting her from her own subjects.
When she died her ivory teeth
Were the color of gravestones
Sealing the ancient vault of royal diamonds
Until the revolutionaries
Slit her throat
Yielding finely carved jewels
Dazzling in blood

~ Gwen C. Murray