petite cat feet

Move

2011-10-16T11:33:00.000-07:00

It's makeover time

I've found a new location

Here I'll move my rhymes

wings

2011-08-15T03:48:00.000-07:00

What is it,

Why is it,

How is it

You do -

That thing with

the butterfly wings?

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Butterfly, Barbara Butler McCoy, Etowah Indian Mounds, September 2009]]

Ninety-eight in the Shade

2011-07-12T14:23:00.000-07:00

Ninety-eight in the shade.

Frenzied for his lemonade

With great delight I take my place,

Savor his fruit, so sweet to my taste.

Forget this day some mermaid's coffee.

Let me rest at noon dreaming of Weeki Wachee.

Sunburnt I am, turning dark, but lovely.

Fair as the moon, clear as the sun, he loves me.

My sun-soaked 'hon' stands at the grill,

Flipping that others may get their fill,

Proclaims, "Behold, he stands behind our wall!

Shoo, you mite - you dare not stall!"

With barely a thought said mite steals weenies

Then races to see all the lovely bikinis.

Leaping he flies, a young stag, over grass parched -

A gazelle skipping on the lawn dry as starch.

"To love young, love seasoned," we raise rounded goblets.

He toasts to lips, lips "like a strand of scarlet,"

Says, "How beautiful are your feet in sandals.

Head to toe you eclipse the sun, earth's bright candle."

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Umbrellas at Pool, as seen from St. Simons

Lighthouse; Barbara Butler McCoy; August, 2009]]

Birthday Sonnet, the Third

2011-04-21T07:42:00.000-07:00

This sole soul, that lone soul, circuit this globe

Beyond time, measure by measure, their feet

Graceful and precise beneath mercy's robe.

Their rhymes, their reasons making life complete.

Sunlight, dawn, and roses - word made flesh, bone.

Mere painted players, yet more, filling stage

After stage, stars to guide the lonely home.

It matters not one's nation, creed, or age.

Draw back the curtain, leave behind the lies

That pit the lost against the lost - darkness

Desolation gripping so many eyes.

Sun and stars, these loving souls end starkness.

His words light way to walk as others do.

His timeless phrases provide our cue.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Sky over Currituck Sound, NC; Barbara

Butler McCoy, November, 2010]]

Sage

2011-01-12T12:41:00.000-08:00

No blackberries

trembling,

tempting twitterers

with juicy tidbits,

sustenance

No buds

'ere,

streaming by

o'er the shoulder,

distraction

No distance,

secluded

here, now,

silken slippers dusted,

serenity.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Stone statue in courtyard, January 12, 2011;

Barbara Butler McCoy]]

Venus

2010-12-08T12:30:00.000-08:00

Venus

'Veni, vidi, vici' -

rising from sea foam,

stepping from out her shell.

Draped only in her virtue

she bears not arms -

nay - but patiently

the night of our terror.

Venus.

Herald of the conquering dawn.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Venus over the Atlantic;

November 27, 2010; Barbara Butler

McCoy]]

Dia de Los Muertes

2010-10-31T09:21:00.000-07:00

Poets and peacemakers

along the way

before me, behind me -

me in between.

No better than any, nor worse -

simply walking, begging

Your pardon for the curses,

Your indulgence for the slips.

In Your continuum I tread -

the lines, etched into my palm -

stepping with the pulse

echoing since dawn.

We will carry it through

round and round again,

generation upon generation,

until the dreaming is done.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Barbara Butler McCoy;
Bee foraging for pollen; zoo,

Columbia, SC; September 2008]]

May 17, 1924 - South Bend, IN

2010-07-02T04:34:00.000-07:00

I see her standing there

From the window by my chair

All loveliness and grace

Her face with dignity is traced

Yet soft, delicate as lace

My wish - to shield her from what may come

Wizards and Kluxers pour from the train

Coming to gather on the plain

Coming to protest her kind

The sons and daughters of Erin

They came, refugees from famine

The came to us, the free and the brave

Who resented their back-breaking labor

Blind to the practices employers favor -

Now it comes to rioting

What of this woman and her baby?

She drops to her knees and prays

I follow her gaze, and see Our Lady

Barbara Butler McCoy

(written 11.19.04)

[Photo: "Our Lady of Guadalupe," paint on tile, grotto at

St. Jude the Apostle, Atlanta, GA, 2009]

Birthday Sonnet, the Second

2010-04-21T04:13:00.000-07:00

In the flower of days I turn my gaze

On those fabled glories of yesteryear

Lost to me in this vale of tears and haze.

How could I hope to purchase one so dear?

And now you see me here all dressed in white

I have not hope in hell but thee, I see.

To you I lift up mine eyes full bright

And tell the world the truth that set me free.

Oh please dear one, make me thy star of one

And purge the night of all grim hopelessness.

'Tis all to me that when the battle's done

You know I stood, tireless, for blessedness.

Know I strike my standard plea toward thee:

Wilt thou this, my verse, accept it freely?

Barbara Butler McCoy

[Photo: "Dawn," Barbara Butler McCoy, 2009]

Thirsty

2010-02-05T05:43:00.000-08:00

Following, following 'cross the wasteland

A steward who steadies with wit and staff,

Pilgrims set lonely course, buried in sand,

Hoping their no-name horse will find true path.

Marking the course with blood so red, they ford

Streams running wild, oh running wild with greed.

Such hopeful souls the dreaming pulls forward

To loving words, a face serene indeed.

Thirsty they are and, silent, they behold

St. Nick in this desert guarding a stream;

Peace and victory pouring from source untold.

Truth visible only for those who dream.

Her voice soothes the bile riled by false faces;

Stream fouled by fairness still bears Her traces.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Image - composite of the author's photos; slogan found painted on

the wall of an outbuilding of the Spruill Gallery, Dunwoody, GA, 2009;

Our Lady of Guadalupe, paint on tile, shrine on grounds of St. Jude

the Apostle Catholic Church, Atlanta, GA, 2009; wall, 2008; thanks to

Sean for his Photoshop tutelage!]]

I, Georgia

2009-07-24T08:10:00.000-07:00

Here in the wild place
The rocky place
Here on this canvas
I am true to myself

The canvas speaks of charms
The brush laid on
With tints in sweeps
All flourishes

And the tempest
Inside my heart of cold
Black stone
Bursts forth in waves
Of petals and pedernals

None so wonderful as these
Have eased my heart 'ere now
To be as one
With the canvas and stone
The leaves and the trees
In this wild, dry land
Is all I need to be

Free of restraints and
Gentle complaints
I soar with the mind
Of a child

My brush brings me home
To wander
In the broom

There I may find it
The next
Piece

Barbara Butler McCoy

[Photo: "Equine Pelvis with Sky," after Georgia
O'Keeffe's "Pelvis with the Distance"; sculpture
of a horse out of driftwood outside the Hunter
Museum, Chattanooga, TN; July 2009]

Blues

2009-07-04T18:11:00.000-07:00

Flying with the blues
Anytime and where I choose
Where'd I leave my shoes?

Barbara Butler McCoy

[Photo: Hyacinth Macaws at the Tennessee Aquarium,
Chattanooga, TN; July 2009]

[This poem is a response to the four, challenge #12]

Dogwood

2009-06-20T06:51:00.000-07:00

I could tell you of
the dogwood trembling above
as it feels spring's love

Barbara Butler McCoy

[Photo: a dogwood blossom on the
tree in my courtyard; April, 2009]

Roundabout

2009-06-11T11:32:00.000-07:00

She believes
believes in love.
What else can she do?
She takes the roundabout.
For so long she has
endured the runaround.

Round and round,
again,
in and out and about,
again,
since she stepped from her shell
hoping to end her exile.
Celestial body riding
the tracks of her tears.

A pilgrim to these shores
where uncertainty leaves us
reeling.
She knows and we will learn
our broken hearts,
hearts with room for ladders
to Beauty's divine mystery.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[Photo: a scooter I spotted
near the Woodruff Arts
Center; Atlanta, GA; April 2009]

Sisters' Windows (a response to The Four, Challenge No. 11)

2009-06-10T14:25:00.001-07:00

Some sisters escape -
escape what blinds,
obscures the view,
escape the pain.

Sisters open their
shutters, see light,
focus their eyes
and expose life.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[This poem was also submitted as
a response to Challenge No. 11 from
The Four and suggested by Kirsten Crilly:
"Then swing your window open, the one
with fresh air and good eastern light
and watch for wings, edges, new
beginnings." Monique Duvall]

[Photo: Window above doorway,
Candler Building; Atlanta, GA;
March 2009]

The Maiden Springtime/La Jeune Fille Printemps/La Doncella Primavera

2009-05-07T08:07:00.000-07:00

The Maiden Springtime,
her eyes the leaves
of the vine,
like water
with her eyes
She drinks the sun
until they burst,
her rosy spheres,
the fruit of the vine.

La Jeune Fille Printemps,
ses yeux les feuilles
de la vigne,
comme l'eau
avec ses yeux
bois le soleil
eclatent,
ses orbes rose,
le fruit de la vigne.

La Doncella Primavera,
sus ojos las hojas
de las vids,
como el agua
con sus ojos
bebe el sol
reventan,
sus esferas rojas,
la fruta de las vids.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[Photo: Berries after yesterday's rain.]

The Dancer

2009-04-21T11:46:00.000-07:00

(A sonnet in honor of William Shakespeare's birthday, April 23, 1564.)

Dancing in time to the song of your heart,
No small thing this singing ever of bliss,
From which you rose, your ev'ry loving part.
Beautiful you, you must remember this.

Everlasting impermanence, dancing
To your enchanting meter round the globe.
Restoring hope, so much more than glancing,
For those who do between your lines so probe.

Wherefore art thou so constant, love?
Perchance your eyes do note the beat you hear
While these my soles, tattooed so red as blood,
Dance upon the lines you wrote so clear.

Now may I say I am fix'd in my dance?
I am here willed, not here by happenstance.

Barbara Butler McCoy

["Ballet Olympia," Paul Manship, as conceived by John Portman,
outside SunTrust Building, Peachtree St., Atlanta]

Ornamental

2009-03-23T11:45:00.000-07:00

They know not this, the collectors of me,
The rough, rough nature of the beast I am
As the plastic stiff face is all they see.
Yet 'hind mine eyes I think therefore I am.

A stranger here, someone's beauty I think,
With all my tomorrows and hereafter
To thoughts of my yesterdays ever linked,
An everlasting soul in love, laughter.

Any who try to bring some me to heel
Or bribe me with a plastic pink Corvette
Will find somehow I found a tongue quite real,
Laced up with words, lightning they'll not forget.

Too, the sick pink mansion in Malibu
Without apology I do eschew.

Barbara Butler McCoy
(submitted, also, as a response to
Challenge #5, the four)

Response #4

2009-03-09T13:38:00.001-07:00

Love joined us that day
Love made the cradle to sway
Love is all I say

Barbara Butler McCoy

Response to #3

2009-02-25T12:31:00.000-08:00

My broken toucan
Fallen victim of rough hands
Waits to fly again

Barbara Butler McCoy

Ships

2009-02-13T12:03:00.000-08:00

Floating out to sea
Along the Chattahoochee
Just some geese and me

Barbara Butler McCoy

I, Pilgrim

2009-01-31T11:55:00.000-08:00

I, pilgrim
wandering soul
reaching forward
palm to palm
from a hero's pose
I kiss the holy bridge
where loving souls of saints
have trod before me
Palm to stone
this moment joins lives now,
lives then,
now again
My benediction
a font of loving praise
for those before,
after
Who wander the bridge

Barbara Butler McCoy

[This photo shows the underside of a bridge
crossing the Chattahoochee River in Fulton county.
It evokes a medieval cathedral to me, one likely reached
across a bridge.]

Tears

2009-01-15T14:27:00.000-08:00

In the sylvan Sunday silence
While preachers pass the plate
The palms catch lest they evaporate
Celestial tears whose birth was violence.

Lifelines bleeding on ruined palms,
Sweetly etched before birth,
By those misguided erased of worth.
Tears bear mute witness in savage calm.

Barbara Butler McCoy

Outpost

2009-01-06T14:44:00.000-08:00

I am come here
Forgotten outpost
Roof open to the sky
Open to celestial light

Notes for the ear
Whispers from a ghost
Music to make you cry
Music, river, dancing light

Roses, too, hear
Climbing round a post
Scent to falls will fly
Perfume river at cloud height

Then from your bower
Mandalas composed
Your sand tossed up to fly
Testament of your truth, might

Your light so clear
Here I am to toast
Here you run and meet sky
Here I find celestial sight

Barbara Butler McCoy

[I am enchanted by the work of Robert Hite. This structure, whatever it may be, I found along the canal in Augusta in October '08. All this time I have sought a poem for it and today I found the one.]

Three Sisters

2008-10-07T13:02:00.000-07:00

Blindness descends

Loose talk, fast talk, false talk
Climbs the stairs, fouls the chambers
Loose talk, fast talk, false talk
Lurks and hisses, twists sleeping minds
Loose talk, fast talk, false talk
Chases blind footsteps into the abyss

We hear our Mother's whisper
We keepers of the Light
We know a different fate

We hurry, we three sisters - the hour grows late
Silent, we ascend past decay
Past rooms where 'danger' was loved
We meet atop the tower
Above ducal counselors keeping the view
While we keep our faith

We hear our Mother's whisper
We keepers of the Light
We know a different fate

With the dawn our Mother we greet
For Her we rise
To Her we listen
We are deaf and blind
To the mistaken minds
Who say Her love is filth

We hear our Mother's whisper
We keepers of the Light
We know a different fate

We Her daughters
Her dissident daughters
We dance for Her
We raise our arms to Her light
We stretch and take in Her truth
We salute Her rising

We hear our Mother's whisper
We keepers of the Light
We know a different fate

We daughters wrap our minds -
Wherein All begins -
In Her glorious light
The light of soul-truth
The sweet light that sets
Its seal within us

We hear our Mother's whisper
We keepers of the Light
We know a different fate

"Let Me tell you, daughters,
Your love is generous, your love is kind
In you My garden dwells
And perfumes mankind -
To the antipodes and back again
To heaven and back again."

Light rises

Barbara Butler McCoy

Now

2008-10-02T04:57:00.000-07:00

One foot before the other
One breath at a time
River of life flows past

Bees sup for Queen Mother
Dewed rosebuds innocent of crime
Time stops and Love lasts

Barbara Butler McCoy

[If I hadn't been watching where
I was going, I would have missed
this rosebud.]

The Writing on the Box

2008-09-29T12:22:00.000-07:00

Puffs, crunchs, crisps
Flakes and squares
Giants sit down to breakfast
Yes, they sit to eat theirs

They sit and they stare
In the cool morning light
And the laughter does flare
As they read left to right

This one shows a father of four
Spent life living as his daddy did
Never asking if there's else or
If there is life beyond this box's lid

Here, this one, shows a gal
Razor tongue, all armored in black
In her box without a pal
Happy to be a party hack

Funny thing about these boxes
The giants read few younger faces
Which makes them wonder 'bout the foxes
Confining older minds in tiny spaces

Barbara Butler McCoy

I wrote this nearly four years ago, just after the '04 election and it is still, well, more than a little relevant. The idea came to me one day while wearing one of my 'Life is good' shirts. It has an image of a t.v. on the front with the admonition to "Think outside the box." I thought of people inside the t.v. - y'know, like little kids do - and then faces outside the box. Then the whole cereal box idea just bloomed forth. Maybe I was channeling Roald Dahl or something?

As I Find It

2008-09-26T10:49:00.001-07:00

As I find it
I am nothing
no thing mere
One form rising
from the great, vast sea -
Emptiness

A paradox
nothing teeming with possibility
Break all down
You will see
you must see
it comes to nothing
Emptiness

From nothing springs
the forest rooted and reaching
Pry open slice into that seed
You will see
you must see
the heart of sprouted seedling
Emptiness

Heart of water
three mere atoms
Separate them break them down
to level where all is void
Empty heart
the source of springs
Emptiness

I find my friend we do arise
not from the dust
but from the void
I and thou dear friend
spring from possibility
Nothing and
Everything

Barbara Butler McCoy

[I'd been reading Fritjof Capra's "The Tao
of Physics" and the Dhammapada and some
of the Upanishads]

A Little Light Reading

2008-09-26T10:26:00.000-07:00

A little light reading
Your face I love so well
Exposure to your sun
Reverses negativity
Shutters closed round my heart
Stay the beauty of the time
Beauty seeks beauty
Through apertures in the mind
Apertures for in-pouring light
Solution in the darkness.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[I wrote this to remember my dad's love
of photography. I will always remember
fondly his dedicated use of a light meter.]

Venus and David

2008-09-22T06:46:00.000-07:00

No one knows the meaning
of loneliness like
Venus and David
She tempura on canvas
He a gaze of marble
No one knows what they see
but me

Each of the other
does think, I saw you once
and I wanted
Never can I speak it
but you, my love,
are all I see.

I stand here naked
before the gaze of strangers
whose caress means nothing
The caress of your gaze
is ever my desire

How will we find release
from these prisons of
canvas and stone?

How will our hearts
find wings?