Saturday, November 1, 2014

We Are the Code That Interacts (new poem)

We Are the Code That Interacts
by Tim Kavi

sweeping and cleaning
lines edited
in Nature's dark surprise

destiny is made
along twisted roads
that go nowhere
where the apparent
is only freshly revealed

as we travel them

or by a singing note
of existence
or by a rampant ascension
or early demise

there is a place for humanity

for endings reveal themselves
as beginnings
selected, punctuated
in the balancing act
of synthesis

only to emerge
like waves
photons twisting in morphing
place, running a race
where light dances
on the walls of caves

again and again
sweet refrains

of who we are
what was imagined
in the lines of code

written at will
in the shadows
of song

we stand; 
lines in the code
emergent and conscious
naked and born
into the scripted world.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

A Machine (new poem)

A Machine (New Poem)
by Tim Kavi

a machine
a machine!
is what I am
becoming in a world
of thieves

who conspire
lie low in dark rooms
to steal only
my identity
finding no cash
but who I am
stripped of meaning

so if you define me
telling me
who or what to be;
where are my stories?

for I am fashioned
by choices
that lead to driven
conscious identities

evolving over time
morphing into community
many forking paths
resolving into
the road less traveled by?

longing to be
and to remain free
you will never take
the real me.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Tree of Me (New Poem)

TREE OF ME (New Poem)
by Tim Kavi

I am rooted
drawn deep into the soil
my limbs longing for light

until the gentle ocean speaks
and the winds scatter
my leaves throughout the wild
wooded Earth!

There is only my existence
screaming in the void
fighting to stand tall
as long as I can.

About the photo:  Photographer is Beth Moon. The photo was featured in the Review Section of The Wall Street Journal; Saturday-Sunday Oct. 11-12, 2014; page C12.

Saturday, August 30, 2014

More About Goddesses: Demeter, Greek Goddess (New Essay)

More About Goddesses: Demeter, Greek Goddess (New Essay)
by Tim Kavi
Demeter is known as the Greek goddess of the harvest and fertility. She is known as a goddess of origin, divine order and giver of food. She is also frequently associated with ruling over unwritten law, the law of nature which defines agriculture and civilized society. This can be implied that she helps to control the cycle of life and death, though not all interpretations of the myth of Demeter include this interpretation. Much of the association with Demeter and life and death stems from the myth of her daughter, Persephone who is featured along with Demeter in the Eleusinian mysteries.
The religious writing around Demeter shows her as taking on a variety of different religious functions.  In ancient history, many worshiped her as the “mother earth” or the Great Goddess who oversees the function of agriculture. Many harvesters would worship her, hoping that Demeter would offer her blessing for the work that they completed. Some areas of Greece have found earlier descriptions of Demeter acting as a poppy goddess with the belief that she was responsible for bringing poppies to Eleusis in Crete.
Demeter’s daughter Persephone was said to have been kidnapped by Hades who was looking for a queen to rule beside him in the underworld. Upon realizing that her daughter had been taken, Demeter fell into a deep sense of grief, causing all life on earth to begin dying. To prevent extinction, Zeus sent Hermes to return Persephone to her mother. To prevent this, Hades tricked Persephone into eating a pomegranate which bound her to the underworld. It was agreed that Persephone would spend a third of the year with Hades in the underworld and the remaining time on earth with her mother. This corresponds to the changing of the seasons. As Persephone leaves to perform her duties in the underworld, Demeter falls sad and life dies away in the winter months.

There were several cults that honor Demeter throughout Greece, Sicily and Crete. The ancient cult of Amphictyony on the coast of Thessaly was one of the most well-known of these cults. There is also the festival of Demeter of Mysia. This festival lasts for seven days and passes the shrine to Demeter as the parade moves from Mycenae to Argos. Only a few ancient texts describing this festival have been found so it is unclear how the deity was honored during the festivities.
Another interetsing fact about Demeter as she is presented in mythology (Demeter, who was also known in other terms as 'Ceres') is that she  never wanted to make her abode with other goddesses on Olympus. Rather, she wanted to be down to Earth and abide with her followers and those close to her, in her own temples, as a goddess with them.--TK
The image above is artwork from the work of a contemporary and interesting artist; Howard David Johnson --who draws goddesses, beautiful women, and mythological figures. ~~TK

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Celestial Meadow (new poem)

Celestial Meadow
by Tim Kavi

gentle lands of rest
stretch across maps of peaceful
bliss of grassy green

my feet float on airy paths
of glorious silence
stretching to the horizon
sparse trees dot the place

that beckon to places
of pause and reflection
away from all the stress

away from racing thoughts
not just to survive
but to bravely exist

gentle bluebirds
of my Mother's voice
Gaia would you sing to me?
black crows wait to pick

but I know
that your beauty prevails
you will live longer
than humans have tread

oh pray
they will not kill you dead
for in your silence
they gravely mistake
you are not there

but there is only
too much noise
to hear you and be blest

but at moments like this
I only can gently walk
on the pillows
of your endowment

in the shadows of forest
and the paths of wooded trail
the stream flows nearby

into the ocean it flows
goes to the clouds
descends to the earth again
born again

to live again
and to see your glory
in forest, and stream
celestial meadows
where I see all my friends

playing again. 

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

More About Goddesses: Green Tara (essay)

More About Goddesses: Green Tara
By Tim Kavi
Tara refers to the savior-goddess in Buddhist mythology, more commonly referred to as Sgrol-ma. She is considered to be one of the mantras heard in Tibet and acts in a light of universal compassion which is a stronger form of a mother’s love for her children. It is said that Tara is responsible for guiding her followers on the path to enlightenment, providing longevity and protecting her followers through earthly travel.
Before Tara was considered a part of Buddhism she was depicted as one of the manifestations of Parvati in Hinduism. According to later traditions, Tara was born from the compassionate tears of Avalokitesharva when he looked upon the suffering of humans. These tears formed a lake where lotus blossoms bloomed. A beam of blue light emanated from one of these flowers and brought forth Tara. Tara appears in many forms, each with its own symbolism and power.
Green Tara is represented by the half-open lotus which represents that night. With time she will transform into the white lotus as she reaches full bloom, representing grace and serenity. Green Tara focuses on compassion for those that must labor night and day to relieve the suffering of others. It was once believed that every pious woman was an incarnation of Tara, though some will take on more green or white aspects depending on their nature.
Green Tara is also associated with a sense of vigor and youth. She is often depicted as being very active and fierce, though the actions she takes are always filled with compassion for those she is interacting with. Some believe that Green Tara is a self-born form of the Buddha Amitabha, and this will often be depicted in her headdress. Other stories say she was incarnated as a wife of the Tibetan king Srong-brtsan-sgam-po because in this culture green is a symbol for accomplishment and this king was known as the lord of action.

When she is depicted, Green Tara is often shown in a posture that is relaxed though still ready to take action at any time. Her left leg is usually folded in the contemplated position, but her right will often be outstretched so she could quickly move into action if necessary. She will frequently be shown holding blue lotuses as a representation of her origin story and will wear rich jewelry. It is quite common for people to illustrate her this way as a way of calling upon her compassionate nature.

Saturday, June 28, 2014

My lonely face, My global face, Singing Their Song (new poem)

My lonely face, My global face, Singing Their Song

 by Tim Kavi

there is a oneness
captured in my lonely breath
where only the known
is revealed in a song
escaping my lips

dropping like tears from my eyes

across the widened
abyss of chastened justice
there is a universal wind
that, until singing it

only the powers will not know it

I arise
from the cobblestones
knowing my one face
has now gone global
in the rage
of technology's age

there is no hearing of it

until somewhere else
another voice is heard
a chorus of discontent
my heart reaches for it

in your lasting embrace, there is knowing

my arms circle around them
only to sing in glorious chorus
until all are free
again and again

for the sound of it is joined in music

where there is a turning
morphing of my single face
joined with a global race
where we all are one

can we care enough to hear the song?

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

lovely and beautiful (new poem)

lovely and beautiful

by Tim Kavi

lovely and beautiful
your smile lights the world
where on twisted pathways
the foot of this admirer has trod

until at last
lit by your pretty essence
home has been found
love has been found
forever reflected
in your lovely smiling grace.

poets' afterword:  the photo is of the Greek goddess, the smiling Athena. She is found at the Aphaia Temple at Aegina. She is the tallest representation over all the goddesses depicted in the excavations.  Has a goddess like this ever graced your life?  Hope you tell her so today.~~TK

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Tears of a Prophetic Clown (New Poem)

"Tears of a Prophetic Clown"

by Tim Kavi

so do you think?
do you think I am Funny?
Always when You
are crying
I'm cruel
in making You laugh
out loud so?

and when You
thought you were dying
seeing a plan in all,

and so
You woke up
again and again
laughing in the telling
of deep purpose

to Do Something
to ease suffering
in and to the world

So go on laughing
and living gloriously
until the real end.

knowing that endings
are beginnings of renewal
dialectics of dancing powers

SO there is no need
to stop laughing
or to never hope in living
for that is the way of
those who are sleeping. 

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Angels from Heaven (For Moms that Help at School) (New Poem)

Angels from Heaven
by Tim Kavi

To all the moms who help at school: 

never did the world see
in their beauty
and tireless missions
such pretty angels
as these mums

they must be from heaven
giving to the kids
in never ending
efforts, activities,
assuring students ascending

bringing their greatness
because these mums
make it all okay
make it all happen
in their grace each day

there is not one
student or teacher
untouched or unblessed
they really have done it all
Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall

that keeps the schoolyard
humming with many a happy kid
and the classrooms a place to learn
for kids to go home and tell all they did

these mums
are surely angels
messengers of hope and love
and we are grateful
they are sent from above

great mums always are
angels who arrive
from near and far

Angels from Heaven.

My second Mother's Day poem for 2014 is a new poem that was commissioned by someone who appreciates the moms who help out at her school.  (Reprinted with permission by that patron).  Moms are surely angels and surely helpful to children everywhere--as this poem celebrates their unique contributions to school life. They are referred to in many places as 'room parents' but to some lucky kids they are always 'mom.' ~~TK

Saturday, May 10, 2014

There is Mom --Poem for Mother's Day With Photo (Poem)

There is Mom
by Tim Kavi

so what is this?
across the translucent orb
endless universe so vast
that God in his designs
would seek to make perfect
for sure to last?

but the need for what was created
man or woman
to never be alone?

but the sacredness
of family
of love
and of home?

and in that home
stands a sacred one
sure and true

the fortress of Mom

which every kid
growing up, knew
is true blue
in all she said
and did

until around
every troubled bend
twisted by life's
and uncertain wind?

there is the love
of God
and the love of Mom

gently guiding
assisting in fate
but always loving

there is Mom
there is Mom.

(This is a reprint of a poem that has been on this blog before on Mother's Day.  It is a very special poem as it was written for my own mother in 2010, and I read it at her Memorial Service in 2010.  Moms are very special and I am very lucky to have had a great mom who was always very special and as a child and adult--took care of me in so many ways!~~TK) 

Sunday, April 20, 2014

The Corpse of Hope (Poem)

The Corpse of Hope
by Tim Kavi

the old ones
took me up higher 
on the mountain
and they showed me 
a bag of remains

I said who is it?
they replied
the corpse of hope
I said: why do you show me this?

because it is long absent
from many hearts
in the world
missing from the ideas
and schemes of needy ones
trampled by the greedy ones

thrown away by the winds
of war and oppression
until it has about turned
to dust

bound up in an earthy bag
stirred up by a newcoming flag
and forgotten by many

in the highest places
they imagine they need not see it
and refuse to believe it
the new body of hope

those who cannot see 
those lower ones
I replied how can those 
lower see it
since it is up here?

easy, they replied me
hope has been hidden
by those in power
and repackaged as a lesser hope

one that is devoid of true power
some have called it
the promise of better times
or even the rights
to not be bothered

as long as you do not question
do not ask about
or wonder, 
where has the true hope gone?

then all will be all right
and the wise ones said
but it is for  greater
freedom, some have bled.

then the old ones
said to me, Can these bones live?
and I said only you know

bone to bone
flesh to flesh
the corpse of hope
lives again

becomes a great body
in the songs of protest
and the instruments of change

although those in power
do not freely give it
the body of hope
stirs in the masses that seem

below, hidden
to the asses that gleam
in the palaced abodes

until it shatters
the storied glass
windows and hallways
of oppression

while dancing in the streets
the newly empowered
people enjoy the hope
of a new tomorrow

while the others
long for the corpse of hope
and the familiar dusty bag
yet it is no longer found

in their possession.
for hope is a living breathed
out being
in the aftermath of which
there is no deceiving

for the corpse of hope
has been followed 
by the dialectical
birth of social justice.

Poet's Afterword:  On this day that many celebrate as
a day of resurrection, I long that hope too shall live. Another poem of protest.~~TK

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Gaia--Not to Touch the Earth (new poem)

GAIA--Not to Touch the Earth (Poem)
by Tim Kavi

speaking messages
not heard
there is quaking
terrible shaking

ridges of trembled history
continental drifts
of worries of collapsed kingdoms

underneath changing
of postpartum birthing
memories of the way things were

before flags were planted
before urban density
throwaways of modern and postmodern

filtered the purpose
of your message
but we still try
to touch you

to touch the Earth
to know your glory
to esteem and respect
to be moved by all

that you are.
we long to respect you

before it's too late.

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Remembered Space (New Poem)

Remembered Space
by Tim Kavi

lush overgrowth
showing empowering design
such wisdom
yet some say 
it's always overrated

but love grows
to meet us in every 
esteemed face
across every landscape
of doom and grace

it is everywhere
every space
and in every place

reflecting rays of light
in my remembered windows
of dreamy night
where I am struck
by the moonlit beauty
echoed in her embrace

Her many stories
are told, traversed
again and again 

a resounding crescendo
in the universal page
she is written
in the paths
of the wind

by every artist's
gardened, skillful
round shapes

My love is full of it;
I saw it in her 
gathered lace

And revealed ever
in the lit bed
of her remembered kiss

I am left wandering
the maze
of brilliant memories
across remembered space.