Saturday, January 31, 2009


Jabber, jabber, jabber talk. Incessant noise,
they drive me crazy, these little boys.

Hours to spend, twenty cents on their mind.
I tell myself. "Be patient. Be kind!"

Talk, talk, talk, jabber. Nonsense a-mile-a-minute,
"Uh, that box over there, what'd ya say was in it?"

Freckled noses wrinkle, rolling brown eyes,
then they blurt. "Are you in for a BIG surprise!"

They jabber, jabber, jabber in villianish squeals.
"We love to make deals! Yea, we love to make deals!"

From hip and shirt pockets, ratty NEW cards. "Give it a shake?"
I groan, "I looked at these yesterday, give me a break."

Then the high whining pitch is wound up for more,
and out comes the question. "Now, how much is the Score?"

I sigh, dab my eyes, and turn my face away.
"That's the hundredth time you've ask... Today!"

They look at each other, with fiendish intent
spread over their faces, they'll not relent.

I begin to lose my grip, I feel myself slip.
The strain is wearing, and I'm about to flip.

They open their mouths. Jabber, jabber, jabber, psych.
"Enough already, you guys take a hike!"

"Out of my store, I say out, get out right now!"

They go.

But indignant.

"Gees Lady, don't have a cow!"

Linda McGeary
(c) 1990

Thursday, January 29, 2009


From a glitter glass coffin
she watches green spring burgeon.

Sun glazed soft sky, blue-white.
Clouds prick the mind with sharp light.

People rushing to and fro,
all with a mystery place to go.

But trapped in death trance,
moon eyes alone join life dance.

All winter long content with just being,
watching, feeling, dreaming, seeing.

But spring comes shouting... DO!
Hot spice action lancing through

the misty, magic dark quiet sleep,
stirring blood from deaths keep.

Sun Fairies lift the lid and kiss a - twinkle
the sleeping Princess, Miss Van Winkle.

Linda McGeary
(c) 5.31.2000

Tuesday, January 27, 2009


Sometimes I long for change.

Real change...
Not just small stuff,
like rearranged schedule,
or a new movie in town.

Big Change...
like a move to a new city.
An adventure of getting to know
discover delightful quirks,
streets, works,
landscapes, people.

I hunger for new experience.
New out goings.
New in comings.

New roads.


But like Candide, is the change I
seek in my own back yard?
closer still?
Within me?
Is that the difference I long for?

From my back door
the sky is beautiful tonight,
with its rose faded colors,
night blue deepening to velvet.

I am the door to new roads.
Change is a star studded sky
within me.

Linda McGeary
(c) 8.27.99

Monday, January 26, 2009


When You built blue-green earth,
laying foundations of wide ocean floor,
framing highest mountain peak,
hiding smallest beauties for us to seek
deep in secret recesses of stone,
along with marvels in blood and bone.
Animal kind and human mind...and so much more.
Did you laugh with joy,
seeing every aspect fit with great worth?

When You stretched out the immensity of space,
counting stars, moons, and black holes,
burying mysteries millenniums deep,
inventing such things as dreams and sleep.
Forming the child within the womb,
weaving humanity on loves loom,
the artists beauty in human souls.
Did You shout for joy,
seeing all made clothed in Your grace?

When You whispered love to wind and sea,
embracing miracle moments of living,
imbuing Self in foam, coral and sand,
molding the fish tail and human hand.
Interconnecting circles, spinning, complete,
heartbeat rhythm of drumming feet.
All of All, the All Giving.
Did you dance with joy,
seeing life perfect and love free?

Linda McGeary

Friday, January 23, 2009


Mid-night treasure hunt, stony path to the quarry led.
Dancing lights rimed the wild sea, Spirit fed.

Senses heightened, salt scent, wind wet face
magical, mystical moment filled with wild grace.

The night was star dark, with moon silver shine.
Then a mystery of the deep arose, luminous, divine.

Just above the ocean froth, it hovered there,
water streaming, gleaming, glorious black Sea Bear.

Crowned with moving spikes of Northern light,
encircling, spinning rings, star sparked radiant might.

A still point moment of excitement and awe,
knowing to my core, this was primal law.

The Power that sent out and drew in,
Face to face, knowing Spirit kin.

Held entranced, I longed for, yet felt fright.
The great Sea Bear hung there, an instant, then flight,

straight toward me, with the speed of thought.
Who would have guessed, so wonderfully caught,
that I was the treasure
which Sea Bear sought.

Linda McGeary

Wednesday, January 21, 2009


My eyes were open but I couldn't see
what it meant to want what You want for me.

To know who I am and from where I have come,
to understand what I am, the total sum.

To believe in my brilliance, light living within.
To let go of smallness, and what I have been.

My eyes are open, and I begin to see
what it is to want what You want for me.

To live life more conscious of self and of You.
To acknowledge, though physical, I am spiritual too.

To accept new experience without looking back,
count the lessons, taste the joy, forget what I lack.

In my prayer I whisper, "Now I see it clear!"
And the echoes of Everlast in my quiet self I hear.

"Live to others, give yourself, like a river to the sea.
Love, Living Love, is what I made you to be!"

Linda McGeary
(c) 1.11.94

Tuesday, January 20, 2009


Stone word came down, from head to feet.
"We want ours - plus - yours - won't be so sweet.

Rock bottom line,' said CEO, "Lay chisel to stone.
Payrolls too high. Cut to the bone!"

Front line manager sucks in the gut - tightens the belt,
does what's unfair, no matter what's felt.

"It's me or you - My job's on the line.
It's gonna be yours. Sure as hell won't be mine!"

Deaf ears turned from pleas for more hours.
The powerless can't grant to those with no powers.

Now the over fed giant stands a head taller,
crushing the little people, grinding them smaller.

Steel corporate castle gates slam resoundingly shut,
fortifying the Haves with their four-hundred percent glut.

Win. Win. Show no mercy. Take the biggest part.
Smile, and pretend, Stone Giant has a heart.

Fancy cars, bigger mansions, more money to spend.
Fine art, expensive clothes, and at 28%, money to lend.

Ever more, ever bigger success is the goal.
The Almighty Oligarchy pretending to have soul.

Linda McGeary
(c) 3.1.00

Monday, January 19, 2009


A rich man on a moonless street
hoarding his soul's treasure
letting ever so little slip away
in small acts of compassion.
"The world is a hard place." he said,
"I need to save this for myself."

From his hidden wealth
he could afford to give...a little.
Pushing the larger part deeper
into a secret pocket.

He forgot what he once knew.
Some things can't be saved by hoarding.
Like a half eaten apple,
soul kept hidden only withers.

Like luminous diamond dust stored
in a sack with a hole it it.
Glistening in the dark
on the street behind him,
the essence of soul leaking away.

Diamond dust twinkle
reflecting in the eyes of a poor child.
Wonderment and joy lighting her face.

In some dim time the man will awaken,
feeling for his soul and wonder in hunger
where it has gone.

Linda McGeary
(c) 10.10.95

Friday, January 16, 2009



The night is cool and silver white.
Soft velvet purring.
A box of old rage in the broom closet,
the nursery bed.
A shaft of moonlight through the open door
pools in the box on the closet floor.
The glitter of experienced golden eyes
as the last of four comes
sliding down the chute of life.
The loving rasp of a mother's tongue
dries the little thing in tri-colored fur,
with her tail curled wetly tight,
shinning like some dark self protective centipede.
With the instincts of a mouth on feet,
she mounts her wobbly legs
and goes foraging for a teat
in a forest of fur.
Finding her prey she feeds in the moonlight,
nestled with brother and sisters she is warm,
but the night is cool and silver white.

Linda McGeary
(c) 3.12.01

Thursday, January 15, 2009


Night curtain, crimson laced,
drops down on western hills,
the last rosegold glow
kisses the horizon.

Dark folds of soft scented velvet
douse the lantern of sky pilgrim.

Linda McGeary
(c) 10.1. 99

Wednesday, January 14, 2009


I am myself.

I am also you.

I know this because


I feel you in my face,

my smile, my voice,

laugh, walk.

You have left your


on my skin, in my bone,

mind, soul.

Just as I am in you.

We touch...and rub off on each other,

the alchemy of permeability.

I am a complex of others.

I am myself.

Linda McGeary
(c) 4.23.99

Monday, January 12, 2009



Tears and bitter sweet
Memories of past friends
Other places other times


Free upholding free
Exchanging bonds with no strings
I love you love me.


Snow sun glittering spark
Fresh and new no steps yet
Like a page waiting to receive

Linda McGeay
(c) 1994

Saturday, January 10, 2009


A world a-jumble in time and space.
A journey, a search, for a solid place
to stand, and understand.

To see and see through.
Mirror image reflecting back,
looking within, looking within.

Mindscapes transformed by
rainbow treasures.
Assimilation, accommodation
of new ideas and thoughts,
the eyes of Mythic Spirit,
to save from literalized relationships,
rigidifed beliefs.

The thread of the path goes out
into open places
not at all solid,
but liquid with change.

Discovery! Paradox!
The solid thing is change.

The soul, an elastic crucible
of knowledge and experience.
Transduced impulses, image to symbol.
Internal plight converted to story.

Courage to creativity.
Follow the thread of the Hero-path,
to where there is room for things to be
and things to happen.

Linda McGeary

Friday, January 9, 2009


Upon her heart, the book lay open.
Not a living thing, but alive.
Not moving, but for the rise and
fall of her breathing...
The rise and fall of her thoughts.

Finished! Sad and satisfying.
Truth spoken within.
A shifting shadow, a shinning whisper
inserting itself into her day
with complaint of soul
or the flourish of festive dance.
Conflagrations of her spirit in ageless night.

The gathering of flammables comes to eternal fire -
or falls into ash - by her response.

She knew it was so!

Our natures match and join the burning...
or remain unmoved with eyes that see
only the residue left by the flames.

Linda McGeary
(c) 8.1.95

Wednesday, January 7, 2009


How big is a dream? How much does it weight?
What would it cost, and what might it say?

Could it be measured by inch or by mile?
Come, find out. Dream with me awhile.

Come dream with me a hundred years or so,
a life, a love, a precious thing, never to let go.

A dream adventure as small or as big as living.
Lived out together. Loving, receiving, giving.

A dream weighing less than a snowflake. More than gold.
Never to tarnish, fade or grow old.

A dream costing you, a dream costing me.
We are the price given, forever free.

The value of a dream is what it will say.
Forever love, a million years, and a day.

Linda McGeary
(c) 6.20.1983

Monday, January 5, 2009


I once knew a cat
named Panga Bat

Who sat all day by the window.

But when night came,
Panga Bat was not tame,

and went howling and prowling the borough.

At dawn he'd come in
wearing a grin

and sit by the window and ponder.

Then again night fall,
and the cats would call,

Panga Bat would go out to wander.

One moonlit night
he got into a fight,

his bat-like ears torn to a tatter.

He looked so forlorn,
the felines did mourn,

but assured him it did not matter.

"Your fine physique
is quite unique."

They did meow and purr to amuse.

But before long,
t'was a quarrelsome song,

with growls and spats of abuse.

Too much fun
for this one,

ruffled bat brown fur in a whirling.

At dawn he came in
wearing a grin,

tattered ears quite the evidence of quarreling.

Panga Bat didn't play.
He lay there all day.

He soaked up the sun by the window.

But once night came,
Panga Bat was not tame,

And went howling and prowling the borough.

Linda McGeary
(c) 10.18.93

(This Panga only lived in my imagination. A cholate brown, long and lanky, scrapy cat. Most opposit of his name sake, our own Duchess, who is a calico of much substance, and not at all scrapy.)

Sunday, January 4, 2009


The One, the Source, the Beginning.
Knowing alone.
Wild desire to create.
Life-force flowing out...diffusing Self into all forms.
And still there is In
And In is Am and In is Still.
Matter from thought.
It is Good.
Divine imagination into creation.

rising to the sweetness...
and terror,
of the many faces of the Wild God,
Began to catch, and fence, and tame,
their perceived facet of expression
of the One, the Source, the Beginning.

Beautiful Boxes...
Made to contain, to tame the Wild God.
To reassure the makers of boxes
that God is knowable,
that God is containable,
that God is controllable...
we only Do Life
in a certain Way.

My box exploded.
Splintering, shattering, shards of slow motion,
like fireworks of the soul.

Hands holding me...

And I fell.

A long, slow drop into the Wild Sea.
...Loose in the Wild Sea.
Bobbing on the swells, sometimes content just to be...
Sometimes fearful, thinking I would drown,
down, down, down in the Deep,
before realizing, remembering,
this Sea is Only God.
I could drown in God and still be all right.
Better than all right.

When I came to shore,
on Wild Earth,
and breathed in Wild Air,
I mourned the loss of my small god,
the comfort of my comfortable god,
the vanishment of my controllable god.

I was filled with terror...
and Excitement.
of this Untamable...
Wild God,
the One, the Source, the Beginning.

Linda McGeary
(c) 10.21.98

(If anyone out there can tell me how to make a poem center in its space in this blogisphere world, it would be greatly helpful to hear from you. Thanks)

Saturday, January 3, 2009


Gloaming time of day or night,
a gentle rising up, a quiet laying down.
A time of peace to be sweetly found
between the silent silhouette and shadow light,
of the tender embrace of Father Day and Mother Night.

Held, just so...within their dream,
I am renewed to life again,
bountiful goodness for me to twin.
Soul light, burn bright, spirit fires gleam
for I am a strand, and a part of the dream.

Come! Join the gloaming at the edge of day,
be wrapped in its soft velvet embrace,
which gives depth and strength to the race.
For now, breath deep, be still, let peace hold sway,
and bask in the arms of Mother Night and Father Day.

Linda McGeary
(c) 12.7.98

Thursday, January 1, 2009


When I was a child.

Mommy do you know...

How did the sea get salty?
How did the sky get blue?

How come I have blonde hair
and not black like you?

Where does glass come from?
Why is cotton candy pink?

Will I grow up to be as
tall as you, do you think?

Now that I am grown.

God can You tell me...

Why do people suffer?
Why can't You stop the pain?

Is it all left up to each of us
to make this world sane?

Where is the well of compassion
that we might go and drink?

Where are the words of wisdom?
What are we to do, be, think?

From my earliest days of memory
to my present form of thought,

I've been told God is the answer
to a world that is distraught.

Could it be that's only partly true?
The other me, and you.

Linda McGeary
(c) 9.10.97