The poem, "Millennia In Rocks", has been accepted for publication in the volume The Silence Within,  published by The International Library of Poetry in Spring 2001.  The poem was written during a solitary walk while I was attending a conference with Northern Ohio Windstar Connection  in the beautiful Rocky Mountain National Park.  It is exciting to know that it will be widely distributed.  

All poems are copyrighted by Linda Frances.   All items in this website are the property of the artist. Printing is allowed for your information only. No duplication or alteration for personal gain is allowed.  All rights reserved by the artist.

Beneath the Earth’s Surface

From the womb of the earth
Water and salt and pressure and time
Make magical rooms, decorations, furniture.
Peopled with splendid goddesses and guards
Crystal chandeliers sparkle,
Majestic wingspread creatures hover.
Mirror still ponds inches, yet fathomless deep
Reflect volcano ridged mountains,
Steep rock walls, intricate crevices,
Labyrinth passages.
Man’s folly is but a few drops of water
Against this time measured beauty.


Sculpting Nature

Pressure plates grind and slide,
Ridges rise out of the depths,
Muscles exposed to sun and rain
Wear down deep grooves, caves
Openings; form arches, bridges.
Ancient sea beds laid bare,
A hidden legacy, then under water,
Now dry layers exposed.
Chart the course, feel the power
of  unseen sculptor’s hands,
Slow time moving by eons.
Feel the power and be awed before such beauty.


Land Forms

Pressure builds within the belly,
Liquid rock spews forth,
Explodes  with force,
Steam and smoke billow skyward.
Water cools the rock and land is formed,
Breaking the water’s expanse.
         *****
Land forms stand before the wearing
Of the rain and wind.
Erosion grooves form, shaping, softening,
Surface changes, water levels rise and carve
Between ridges and one land becomes two.


Millennia in Rocks

The fresh pine smell on the clean warm breath of day.
A large spreading pine welcomes me into its shade.
Traces of deer resting here, also.
         *****
The rocks hold the story of millennia.
Sharp edges broken in cataclysmic heaving of faults.
Colors tell of minerals rich and varied; iron, copper,
Manganese, quartz, mica sparkling like gold dust.
Soft green and rust lichen and sturdy plants reach 
Into cracks, fuse with the hard surface.
Water, wind and seasons work to soften edges.
What animals lent their bodies to these layers?
What peoples walked here before, rested on the crest,
Looked at this view and wondered, "Who am I?
So small, and yet a part of all of this!"              


Seasons: Winter

Quiet stillness settles in,
Nature’s activity slows,
Some life sleeps, dormant for a time.
Even those which bloom with a profuse abandon
Then die, live on in the seed energy.
My season, too, may call for slowing,
Quieting, loneliness, yet richness of reflection.
Memories of Summer & Fall sights & activities
Distill to a rich brew of depth and feeling. 
As a descent to inner quiet alone gives birth to
Beauty-Growth bursting forth in rich profusion.
         ******
         
         
Windows of the Soul         

From out of the depths of emotion—
Fear Surges, surfaces again.
Each reaching unbalances for an instant,
Rocking all the safety nets.
Until a new footing on solid ground is felt.
A new painting is before me.
Humbling it is to share in the mystery     
Of creation.  The paintings
Are a window on the painter’s soul. 
If it connects to you by heart strings,
Then it links us soul to soul.

In this next series of poems on Alaska, six of them were written at a workshop on creative writing on a short trip while I was on a cruise called The Inner Voyage to Alaska.  Only the long poem on glaciers was written later to complete the cycle of images from Alaska; the silence, the birds, the beach, mountains, the whale, the raven, and the wonder of being in that marvelous, raw and exquisitely beautiful land.  Let us protect it from greed and short term exploitation!

The sea birds cry, "Come here!" (hear)                              
Turn our way!  Listen!                                                       
The way of life is clear. Our way is simple.                                 
We sing, we fish, we eat, we die.                                   
That is enough for us. Come, we will teach you.

                       ~~#~~                                                                              

The empty shell lies upturned among the stones.              
It fills with sunshine today.                                                
Waiting patiently for the rain to fill it tomorrow.              

                       ~~#~~                                                                            

The sunlight outlines each ridge and crest of the distant mountains.
The shadows and the distance blur the face of them.
They seem a cut out backdrop painted by a giant stagehand for our play.

                       ~~#~~

In one great exhalation the spout is seen.
The inhalation of the breath is audible into those giant lungs.
Breathe, we are the same!

                       ~~#~~

The silence is broken by a soft rhythmic sound.
Footsteps? Wings beat softly on the still air.
Raven lands in the spruce to my left.

                       ~~#~~
 
Ribbons of brown stripe the vast expanse of ice.
White snow on top, but clear ice blue in its purity.
Deep crevices, water dripping, flowing under. 
A giant moving imperceptibly down the valley,
Dragging, scraping, shaping the land, ourselves.
What? It is far from you?  I say our wastefulness
Or our care affects temperature, melt, weather, oceans.
Like a boomerang, we are the cause. The effect to us will come.
We are connected to the glaciers and to all places on earth.

                       ~~#~~

I need not rush to capture all I see and do,                               
For I will come back again.                                                     
                                                                                                 
                       ~~#~~
This next series of Haiku were written on a trip to southern California for an art show.

Haiku is such fun!
I don't really like strict rules,
Just pearls of wisdom.

All poems are copyrighted by Linda Frances.  All rights reserved.

Printed copies of each set of poems are available for $5 each from the artist.  See Contact Information.