Poetry

The Media of Two by Shannon Scott (C) 2015
(Listen To Shannon Recite This Poem)

The world waits on edge for vapid news shows and magazines.
Such fervor over the who’s who of being seen.
But my headlines are your texts on my cell phone screen.
Or your pretty voice on my answering machine.
In my world, this is the news that matters.
Not all of the ink paper and cyber chatter.
You’re my morning show, News@5 and Weather Report.
Broadcasting sexy information of every sort.
A face I can trust with words that are more than play.
My world gets swayed by your opinion and say.
Adding new insights into my world and day.
Who needs the boob tube when I’ve got you Jude?
Let the world stay lost with the web and newspaper clippings.
Exhausting fingers on keys and all of that channel flipping.
While they do that we’ll go margarita sipping!
For the news of us is much more all the fuss!
As the world makes wars, we’ll live like lovers!
Surely news of it will make all of the covers.
The Great Wave by Shannon Scott (C) 2015
(Listen To Shannon Recite This Poem)

Long ago, the earth cooled from toil.
And the seas quieted.
The energy of love manifested in the stillness of before
It began deep in the womb of the earth with a small quake.
Like a shivering newborn, a ripple was sent into the sea.
Delivering the energy upon the sands.

Each granule washed with it.
Every wind, rain, coating the land.
Every rock, reed, creature becoming inspirited.
Every thing becoming an elemental.
Love currenting further in.
Like some great wave.

So began the dreaming of the world.
And the pounding in one heart.
Then a second, feeling for the other.
A new ocean of sister and brother.
Love in waves.

The Great Wave

The Great Wave

Love By The Numbers by Shannon Scott (C) 2015
(Listen To Shannon Recite This Poem)

One lover is but one.
Two in a room, opens the womb.
3 perfects the “you and me.”
For love is the 3rd person.
Few are willing to see.
Love with only two, cannot be harmony.
Only egos, competing endlessly.
The 3rd must be observed, before the two can truly be true.
Number 3 must be honored, before there will be a “me & you.
“Two easily visible, but with persona in stirs,
3 goes neglected, true love suffers to be observed.
Ones are each vital, but three is the guide & will not be denied.
One and two, must turn to 3 to be free.
Bowing, smiling, asking for true epiphany.
Only then, can one and two be friends.
Love, the 3rd person, unites all ends.
Love is a triangle, with 3 sides to complete.
Love is the point, one & two must reach to meet.
Friendship foundation, arms joined high for trusting walls.
But without love as the crown, all 3 will fall.
LoverPyramid

 

Memory Maker
Copyright Shannon Scott (C) 2015
(Listen To Shannon Recite This Poem)


Oh Memory Maker…
Won’t you come take her?
Far, far from the memories we’ve made?
For then I might forget her
And we’d be all the better.
Once more resting in the shade.

For a half finished city was built towards a life of fun.
We stood together and named it “LUMUKU”* and life there had begun.
Scholars, artists and scribes ready to make art of it in the sun.

Then one day it all went away.
I woke up and found the city had been closed.
For repair or a lifetime of delay?
I do not know Memory Maker
For the sign she made did not say.
It just read, “Go Away Go Away!”
Leaving me wondering was it for real or had it all been a play?
I do not know Memory Maker for she has yet to say.

So I sit here idle, outside this shut down town of two hearts.
Oh worry not — Love is here with me, our old friend in these arts.
No truer two had been nor since found
Now awaiting the return of she their three.

Love spies me mumbling,
“We can all live together Memory Maker..”
“We were such good company..”
“You’ll see.. you’ll see.”

(Funny, all I wanted was to lay down beside her like some lazy spider and laugh for a lifetime flicking rubberbands at the trees.)
*LUMUKU = Love U Miss U Kiss U
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Wellsprung Waxation
by Shannon Scott (C) 2015

Click To Hear Shannon Read This Poetical Work

Ah, the delightful slope of heartwrench and accomplishments,

In which while sliding your feet reach the muck before the stable ground before your mind does.

Thus is life. Have minds like ours come to concur?

The fact that you’re just here is promising.

The prizefighter mentality has not seen too relinquish far enough to let that dark shadowy mixture that’s swishing in the back of your mind to claim grounds to your brain matter.

This is good.

Those abstractionary realists who tiptoe around society that suspects them to be stepped in cynicism?

Could in fact be holding the golden ticket to deeper levels of rest amongst outside clatter.

Perhaps rest came to you when you needed it…

My point is — that healing feels no rush for closure.

And while you’re being bumped or bruised as you continue sliding down or up said slopes of self acknowledgment and disparaging.

You’re not alone.

Consider yourself an experiment.

Reweave yourself with confidence that mistakes are a part of the purifying process.
alternative-healing-arts-modalities

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