Rebirth
Blue Poppy
Click for meditationRegarding "Blue Poppy"
O’ how almighty science
And religion have grappled with the
Creation story of how we have
Come to be…but still the universe remains so
Unexplainable, so unimaginable, for
Our mere minds to grasp or comprehend
Or amongst ourselves agree…
I wonder about this, have daydreamed of it while lying in
A field of milkweed pod in Maine, or staring out
At some incoming tide on Plum Island
While blew a wild February spray,
And always my thoughts return to
What Is the real truth…? Some people say the
Universe is explained in the esoteric
Equations of mathematics, while others claim
The answer lies simply in the faith of
The world’s major religions, their ancient
Tenets long-entrenched in our minds by
Rote learning and fiat…But every
Once in a while I see something in
Nature which is as rational as any higher
Explanation…And thus spoke to me a
Pennsylvania blue poppy, caught in the act of
An explosion of Beauty, and whispering
With the authority of an ever-expanding bloom —
Hopefully mercifully on its way to my
Perception of somewhere…
Leo Carroll
May 9, 2020
In perfect Beauty,
As if giving birth from the womb in
The Creator’s amniotic choice of heavenly-blue,
An effusion of stardust is caught
Beginning its eternal journey
To the undefined reaches of
Somewhere, shot from the muzzle
Of a blue poppy and giving an
Alter-story to the Creation
Saga in Genesis, and also portraying the
Big Bang as more gentle than the
Sterile hardness of mathematics,
But more like the softness found in the
Underbelly of nature, as seen
In the silent authority of a flower
Speaking without fear.
Bottle Rock
Click for meditationRegarding "Bottle Rock"
In the frenetic world we live,
It is almost impossible to
Take a timeout to catch a breath…
To recalibrate…to reset, to
Just breathe and not worry about
What comes next…There is,
However, a wonderful place in the
Woods of Maine. It is bare-boned in
Appearance, but is a spot of
Stabilizing, spiritual reassurance.
It is located near a quicksand
Swamp and within a stone’s
Throw of centuries-old, colonial-era
Rock walls. And, all of this
Enclosed by thick woods…It is
An ancient, glacial boulder
Which one day an ice
Sheet got tired of pushing!
And there it still sits, and
On the day of this poem was
Covered in snow, but in other years
Was where I sat with a friend
To talk but mostly just to feel the
Silence…and on one day was
Rewarded when a snow owl
Alighted and watched us
Quench our thirst with a beer,
And then solemnly bury the two
Bottles ‘neath leaves where
We could revisit them every year.
As it says in the Creation story in the
Book of Genesis, “God saw
That it was good,” and so it still
Is in Morrill, Maine, where a simple
Boulder provides an enduring
Backdrop for remembrance and
Resurrection and friendship.
And it stands where for
Millennia it has stood,
Where a glacier got tired
And Yahweh said, “This is good.”
Leo Carroll
January 14, 2020
Blank stares the old rock,
Plain in its face but wizened and hoary
In its thought, secluded, not
Far from a quicksand swamp, but a
Safe haven, simple in looks, and
Faithful, too, dependably strong against
What the world would throw,
Always there, an anchor against
Cascading, overwhelming change,
A place where two sets of
Shoulders could sit and lean and
To the rock not have to explain, and
Where a snow owl in agreement
Was once seen to alight, and
Witness a toast being raised and
Then two bottles beneath leaves
Being laid, where year after year they
Could be revisited and
Resurrected…
Summer Daydreaming
Click for meditationRegarding "Summer Daydreaming"
I love that little Maine
Beach where I found myself sitting
Last week! Every year it
Becomes my safe harbor to
Daydream, wonder, and reflect. No more
Than a quarter mile in length,
It points seaward into
The Gulf of Maine.
Cold the water is! Brrrr!
Healing! Rejuvenating!
And it seems that
Every year as I sit upon
That beach, a fog bank will
Regularly roll in, and a sailboat
Will come into view tacking
In and out of my sight.
I have a relationship
With that sailboat which is
Complicated to define.
It has so many different
Meanings to me, and each one
Is synonymous with
Various themes at work
In my life. One of the
Most important of these
Themes is the loosing of
An almost continual, merciful,
Thought-stream of verse
And stanza, which will
Slip in and out of my
Consciousness like that
Which tacks in an out of a
Marvelous coastal
Maine fogbank, and
Where on my last day
Sitting — it will disappear
Until next year…
Leo Carroll
August 20, 2019
Found
Like a sailboat my voice
Wafts, tacking into the wind, and
Then blithely disappears into the fog’s womb,
Where it soon re-emerges again…
It seems as if my speech has
Been released by the muse on
Behalf of merciful God, and verse and
Stanza have been loosed by
Healing spittle upon a
Tongue’s tied knot.
Sailing
It is as if
On that sailboat I found
My voice, and in and out of the fog tacked
Verse and stanza which
Had waited to be released for
Eons without choice.
“Heave into sight,” shouted
The First Mate, and from the crow’s nest
Then hollered down, “Nary a fear
Is in view, just whitecaps
And blue sky in natural union
Abounding.”
Awakening
Click for meditationRegarding "Awakening"
My life has been
Anointed with far, far more
Gifts than it has with any trials and
Challenges which are otherwise
Names for the unremitting human condition.
Millions of little things, like
A songbird, an autumn leaf, a
Stranger’s smile, an unexpected
Encounter, a perfect
Snowflake, a dandelion, the
Love of a grandchild…
All these things and endless
More are constantly
Given freely when we may be
Thinking of ourselves as otherwise
Alone. I believe there is a
Power Greater Than We Are
Which knows of our
Existence. Each of us calls
This Power by a different name,
And even some who do
Not believe in a Higher Power
Acknowledge its possibility by virtue
Of disclaiming its very existence.
We are blessed so much in
Our day-to-day lives with Beauty…
Beauty which itself is a
Manifestation and face of
Our Higher Power.
For me, I hope my life’s
Path is a long one, in whatever
Form and realm my physical and
Spiritual travels may take…
I feel I am still in the early
Stages of having my rough edges
Smoothed, and every time I
Am bowed I am elevated by an
Unexpected gift which
Grabs me under the arm…
Like the Rhode Island lotus
Flower this poem describes, in
Its own right wondrous in its
Appearance, but, nevertheless, not
Limited by its physical beauty,
Because it, too, is always
Becoming through the work of
Creation mysteriously even
More beautiful, like all of us
Are, as the inside of us unfurls,
And our Higher Power finally
Says, “Behold My Child.”
Leo Carroll
December 28, 2019
As if at long last
Revealing its inner self,
All caution set aside,
What had been enough
Finally deemed to be enough,
What had heretofore
Been cloaked, but
Caught now in photo
As it floated upon
A Rhode Island pond,
A lotus flower in the
Faintest pinks and
Whites and greens and
Yellows, all blending
In the hues of a
Proffered heart
Given freely, and its
Beat the divine
Rhythm of the
Blood of Beauty,
The pulse soft and
Subdued, the petals
A cushion for
God’s footstool,
Whereupon the
Haversacks could be
Placed of weary,
Arriving souls.
Leo Carroll
August 3, 2019
Westford, Massachusetts
Daffodils
Click for meditationRegarding "Daffodils"
It came to me
That my own pilgrim’s path
Resembles the
Seasonal flow of my
Garden in a four-part act, with
The fresh growth of
Springtime’s hope and
Rebirth akin to my
Ever-evolving
Renewal, followed
By the endurance
Required in the summer
Heat of July…a
Metaphor for the
Endless twists and turns of
The human condition
As it sits the beach of
Low and high tides…
And then the final
Burst of color and beauty
In autumn, before
Plunging again
Into the deep sleep
Of winter, only to
Arise again in April,
Pointed and poised to
Resume my journey,
But always bowed by the
Growing pains of
Bloom in my
Season of change…
Leo Carroll
May 7, 2019
…One of the first
Fruits of spring — daffodils
Buttery-yellow and
Dangling from the
Ear lobes of morning —
And at their feet
In fealty, the remnants of a
Once-magnificent,
Autumn leaf, placed by
Winter’s wind and
Now a companion
And witness to
The fresh shoots
Of daylilies green,
And all of these
Stirrings staring into
The stoic eyes of
Garden stones, the
Singular thread
Stitching together
My rock garden
As my shifting
Seasons unfold…