....original photography except where noted....

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

starlight and capes (revis'd)

a white-haired man
told me:

            any time of day,
starlight showers down
over us—
like invisible

because you know,
(he continued)
even though sunlight
outshines the stars by day—
still they twinkle on
in disguise
and behind….

oh what a precious non-secret
to carry around next to my heart!

some mornings
i swing despair on
like a cape,
or a robe….

sometimes it is the tablecloth i sit down to….

i resolve
to hang it back
in the closet
with the old clothes—

(the ones
i really need
to give away….)

and i take out hope,
shake the dust out of its folds,
and try it on—

so awkward, right now:
neither one fits!


i take them both off,
and they lie in small heaps
 on the floor….

i stare at them,

how do you live without one
or the other?

in the blazing heat,
a (wise) young man said:

true peace happens
when you give up
both hope
and despair….

i walk out into the quiet
warm air—

the fireworks
have blown themselves out….

the revelers
have gone indoors….

the words of the old man
and the young
ribbon through my memory….

and up on the hillside,
out from under the trees—
i hold my skirt with both hands
like a basin

for catching stars….


beth anne boardman

Thursday, April 02, 2015

midnight wind chimes

wandering around the house at midnight,
on a secret mission
(for tums
or advil
or something else i’ve forgotten) --

i am akin to silence:
we are partners in the night.... 

creeping through her,
(silence, yes, feels like a ‘she’....)
with her, around her,
we do our care-full duties....

then breezes
stir the windchimes on the deck,

drawing my gaze outward:

silverglow from the moon,
muffled under wooly cloud,

and underneath,
even birds hunker....

silence and i pause on our rounds
and take in the breeze,
the chimes,
the hunkering birds,
and we hug ourselves just a little bit –

grateful for shelter,
and children,
and each other....

beth anne boardman

Wednesday, February 04, 2015

the path at the edge of the sea

on the southwestern shore
at the edge of the sea,
a path appears sometimes....

it leads not over the tawny hills
burnished with golden crackling grass
and dotted with cockle burrs….

it doesn’t wander the sandy dunes
chasing the inconstant breeze….

or seek for shade under the eaves of
crumbled greying bluffs….

it shifts and moves—
rides the tides,
lifting and falling
through translucent night....

when the planet aligns,
so that moon and fog and earth and sea
are all in agreement,

a rolling fountain of diamonds appears….
to any who come to the shore
and brave their inner silence….

free enchantment….
secrets revealed….
to those who look….

we stand here
all alone,

we think….

encapsulated in our skin….
our thoughts….

yet filled with
whirling energy….
electrons and protons zinging
constantly through our charged bodies….

we glow with hidden life….
we teem with what we cannot see….

like the waters….

the grasslands….

the secret standing woods….

the merest rocky outcropping
propels a thousand lives along their days….

and every moment,
a million possibilities
swirl in our direction….

have you once looked on
that shifting silver path?

those bright sparks
leaping, grouping,
dancing on the cold black liquid below?

have you ever
for a moment
walking out upon it….
to some undreamt-of future?

standing in the between
of earth and sea and sky….

we are as alone
as this glimmering path,

and as full of dancing sparks….


©2015  Beth Anne Boardman