Share the Talking Stick

Wild Weeds Poetry Contest - New Skin

 

Where you find your wounds, you find your healer,
I tell her.  Beneath twined honeysuckle vine, clothesline,
Stop sign, lawn, median, and meadow, we pick palmfuls
Of sinewy, slick leaves, veins trailing like kite tails,
And chew them to a paste to plaster on her dog
Bitten face.

In the moonlight of her first owl-owned night,
Her small body glistened like maize, unbroken and bright.
Outside foxes leapt the woodpile, coyotes howled,
Paws pressed in pitch and rabbit-nipped plantain,
And coons found baby Bantams and tore them
Like peaches. 
 

When the sun broke the slate of that night, the apple
Blossoms burst towards the new skin of dawn.
She smiles and the dried plantain paste cracks and flakes
Like seaweed revealing crimson flesh.  We renew the poultice.
Finding plantain scattered like petals in the grass, we crush,
Plaster, affirm.    

By Elizabeth Thompson

Path of the Wise Woman

 

 

this path was laid so long ago,
by pilgrims, fools and thieves-
steps of those who came before me
crushing the dry leaves.

they walked to church and markets,
some walked to give birth-
a few wise women slowed to gather
gifts from mother earth.

brought by romans, vikings and celts,
to cure mind and body-
left for us to find today,
a gift for everybody.

wise women lovingly harvest,
the plants underfoot-
preparing to serve
natures medicine to suit.

valerian and wild thyme,
angelica too-
blue borage and burdock root,
glistening with dew.

rose hips, yarrow, elder flowers,
chamomile, chicory-
have all grown along this path
since ancient history.

wild hedgerow plants others pass,
mundane weeds to some-
but a wise woman's soul quickens
into a joyful hum,

when she finds those wonderous weeds,
and gathers them up-
giving thanks to mother earth,
while sipping from her cup-

teas, tonics and infusions,
sip this soothing drink-
to restore life's energy,
and make cheeks glow pink.

hidden gifts from mother earth,
only wise women can see-
on this ancient worn old path
grow plants for you and me.

BY Carla Cancio-bello

Wild Weeds Poetry Contest - PLANTAIN’S ODE TO THE GREAT MOTHER

 

Precious among all plants you made me. Major, you named me.
Longing to carry out the work of the Goddess… For Thee I thrive,
A true panacea, for common folk or inspired healers.
Never do I tire with you, source of my strength,
To atone for the wounds White Foot brought the old lands.
Answering the sacred herb calling, eagerly I spread.
Gaia’s bidding I embrace, to faithfully serve true health and herbal medicine –
Offering all my parts, from root to seed, a shrine to your name… For Thee I strive. 
 
Mother, your plant-child humbly I long to be,
Awaiting to heal blood, skin, and gut, to soothe lungs, breasts, and eyes
Joyfully widespread, easy of care, from wild food to life medicine I offer.
O Great Mother, weed sovereign you made me… To Thee I abide
Reverently from spring to fall, rosette I lie and high spike I hold...

                                                                                               To gratefully thank Thee

                                                                                                                              Plantain

 

By Joy Prem Codron

Wise Woman Poetry Contest - Dandelion

 

 o' dande - how the lion roars
 - with a blazen sunshiney main,
growing fiercely strong -
and iron rich
to pulse the beating heart.

 taproot to blossom -
green deep for life
 yur nutritious and healing.
The Lion's medicine remedies
a wish from sailing seeds.

a honey bees haven
and hard working herb
with a yellow dash of golden light.
yur a dande in my garden,
  and a tonic for my Heart.

 

by Vava 

Beautiful Artwork by April Daly.

 
 

April Daly has been an artist for most of her life. For over twenty years, April was a professional ballerina, dancing as a soloist in Zurich, Bonn, and with Billy Forsythe for Frankfurt Ballet. April grew up watching her father paint, so most recently, art has been a natural extension of her career.  April's soulful art is an expression of her spiritual and holistic lifestyle and her healing practice now as a massage therapist and energetic mind/body worker. She has written and illustrated a children's word book which beautifully fosters positive communication between parent and child.  April currently lives with her daughter Riley Grace in New Jersey and is looking for a publisher. To contact April about her art, please e-mail her at [email protected] or visit her web site at http://www.aprildalymassage.com/

 

 

Wise Woman Poetry Contest - The Teacher

 

It's late summer. Burdock towers over me
in the overgrown lot, teacher-tall,
stout as a big hipped mother
amidst the thicket of her children.
She stands her ground, broad leaves akimbo,
admonishing with her brown and weathered stalks.
She looks ancient. I know I must
pay attention. Time to be still
and learn her lessons.
She'll tangle with me for taking her lightly
and so I go, obedient child,
to the root of her wisdom, listen close
for secrets pulled from the dark earth,
take in what grounds and deepens me.
Too soon though I am lost to flash
and glint of flighty treasure:
monarch and goldfinch rush skyward,
I forget my lessons, watch and reach
and fall. The teacher is ready.
Soon I am cutting from my head
fistfuls of hair hopelessly snarled
in the barbs of her seedpods.

 

By Karen Arnett

Wise Woman Poetry Contest - DANDELIONS

 

 

My husband doesn’t like you.

He’s on a mission, removing

Your tattered yellow heads and saw-toothed leaves from our lawn

With a specialist Japanese blade.

 

He frowns on my tolerance of you,

Supposedly born of sentimental childhood memories:

Of puffing your parachute seeds to tell the time,

Of curiously nibbling your bittersweet leaves,

And of that inexplicably brown stain left on my fingers

By your milky juice. 

 

I think I leave you be because I’m a bit like you:

Cheerfully ragged, tangy, persistent:

No matter how often we are pulled up,

We keep coming back.

 

By Margaret Hiley

Wise Woman Poetry Contest - Dandelions

 

 

 

Small bright suns bursting everywhere upon the deep grass
 

Then morphing silver globes more like the moon
 

And then with a burst of wind

Scatter into a million pieces

Each taking flight to a brand new place

Where golden sun and silver moon cycle begins anew

By Cathy Weaver Taylor

Wise Woman Poetry Contest - No Shrinking Violet

 

Stripped from the womb

by scrabbling feet

of a voracious butterfly,

in turn victim of a rapacious robin,

which transports the tiny seed,

lodged precariously in breastdown,

until it falls prey to metallic impatience.

Dustdevil plucked from flightless feathers.

Ejected, skittering across sterility,

the packet of potential lodges

in armor’s minute fracture.

No access to terra fecundity.

Alcoholic urine irrigation.

It’s dollop of nitrogen

seasons flotsam deposits,

decaying beetles, poisoned flies,

juices jetsam detritus,

tobacco ash, phlegm, dog vomit, cat feces.

The violet germinates.

Roots grope for nutrition, purchase.

Stem bursts from shelter,

strains for sky.

A prayer of petals

unfolds in gratitude

a rainbow of glory.

The violet alone

embraces it’s fate,

in these canyons of dreams and despair.

 

by Daniel Logan Nelson

 

 

Wise Woman Poetry Contest - ... the cardinal and the dandelion ...

 

blue sky and crystal moon above, transformative energy
sir cardinal perches nearby, alert, radiant
watching my every move, chirping with tender love and sorrow
miss dandelion rises forth with ease and strength, into the unseen
i kneel before her in silence, requesting her knowledge and healing
oh dandelion, always yielding and adapting, she gives us all that she has

 

taken away to distant times, i open myself completely today
vibrations of energy, of pleasure, pulsing through me from below
i chant my power, swaying gently, the wind caresses my skin
the plants call my name, their voices resonating rhythmically within

 

i dig my fingers into mother earth to reach her, queen dandelion
firmly grasping the soil, i reach for her deep roots, praising her beauty
compassion envelops my being and i am empty, ready to receive her energy
i am a vessel of light, beaming, shining...

 

the bird song intensifies, i feel my spirit guide look down upon me with grace
a return to center, to remembrance...
the plant emerges at once, into my open hands, into a new world
my soul is on fire, embracing the universal connection to all that surrounds me

 

grateful for the beautiful balance of give and take, of life and death
tears stream down my cheeks, reaching my smiling lips
thankful for the lesson of the dandelion, for the generosity of nature
truth, emanating from the open ground... truth, the eternal guide of the soul
a fluid dance of healing
my journey has just begun

 

by Kathryn Hamilton