o goddess in You and Me (with Poet Comments)

o goddess in You and Me.
by Tim Kavi

o goddess
lingering there
between us
wings of silver
glistening hair

swimming
in eternal places
your forms
instruct all
spiritual places

then when
we behold
reality's
unfold
destiny's then

seen as your
eternal graces

golden shimmering
jewels dot
landscapes
fair heart
eyes leading
to romantic
escapes

we linger
in the light
looking
for certainty's
sure sight

in a plane with
mathematician's
delight
the waves
collapse
in quantum night

where, o where
is the goddess
still
transcendent
of my
human will?

subject
object
perceptual guises
earthy woes
all fade
in her disguises

breezes blowing
across
all time
statues showing
the goddess
divine

does she
emerge still?

why
beyond ourselves
is anything real?
independent
yet
capable of feel?

there is only
the transcendent other
you and I
I and Thou
all mind is free
in the now

in the love
of you and me.

Comments: This poem captures many of the themes of all of my writings. The dialogical relation of I and Thou; the impact of the goddess in the world (in men and women); the redeeming powers of romantic love; the qualities of transcendent mind or what I call mind in the world. This poem will b epublishe din my forthcoming collection: To the Emerging Goddess by Tim Kavi

Blog Special: Poems that End with a Bad Pun #1 of 679

poet's comment: Thank goddess this isn't published anywhere else...

"The End"
by Tim Kavi

Thinking
I was
born yesterday

she played
me like
a violin

while Rome
burned
and all
our dreams
of paradise

faded into
blackness
oblivion
and history

there
was nothing
left
except to
watch it burn

and roast
hot dogs

in the smoke
Nero said:
beware
the relationships
you relish.

My Grandma the Poet (A Memoir)

a true story from my hometown life:

I grew up in a small town and loved grandma and visited her house
I stayed there lots of weekends
even until my late teens

she made homemade candy
and treats, good homecooked meals
and the holidays everyone in the family came there

aunts and uncles and lot sof cousins
there weren't any boy cousins
although I had two brothers
(they were much older than I)
I made mudpies with my girl cousins
who giggled incessantly
and told me how to cook
fine pies in the mud

grandma tended to her kids
but when she got older she worked a little...

grandma was the town "cookie" cooking burgers that all the teens loved at the soda five and ten

you know the malt shops with soda jerks? in the 1950s...

post war bums with some slicked back hair and cars with big fins

susie was over in the corner
eatin' grandma's burgers

grandma was behind the counter and she grins

watchin the drama unfold
susie ignored the man's advances
and all the other cooks
cackled

susie was a real good looker

I had a burger there in the Soda Fountain place in the late 70S before they tore down the place
the same owner was there but he was Cookie now, and grandma was living in the twilight of her life. the place was empty, but the food was still good and you could get a lot for your money all the noise was down the street at some fast food place. There wasnt even a battle of the bands no more. The owner worked there with his son who never had another job and stayed with his daddy till the end even though he was all grown

I went to grandma's house for a visit soon
after seeing her old working place

grandma was rockin
in her rocking chair
writing poems and crocheting and watching Portland wrestling

when she gave advice you listened

I never forgot her
her love was the most patient teacher

any grandson could have
and I often told her I loved her so

from as far back as I remember..
I have memories like this:

grandma would say Timmie
and was happy to see some of my first poems
scrawled in crayon
or pencil
so grandma and me would write at the same time when I was little and she was so big in my little eyes


her gentle ways taught me more about the
goddess than just about anbody
I know

I think grandma was a goddess

she would write poems by the hours
on sheets of typing and notebook paper college ruled
and writing tablets

all handwritten in very large letters

I was high enough to peek over the arm of the chair to watch what she was doing

if I was good and asked real nice
grandma would read me some
out loud

she had a way with words

these were lyrics and fine ballads

born in 1900 on a homestead she was a country girl
grandpa was a sharecropper
they seemed poor
but rich in so many ways

but we were so happy

grandma liked reading romance magazines
in that rocking chair
songs of home, heart, romance

and her and grandpa were married for more than 50 years

you know grandma taught me
a lot

and every once in awhile
when I write a poem now
I think grandma sees it

I hold it up to her just like I used to and you know what?

she grins

and that still makes me pretty damned happy.

here's an excerpt from one of
grandma's poems:

Tomorrow's End

My wonderful kids
How I love you so
I must know if there is a place
For me, or a home to go.

I won't need many extras
Just a bed at nite
A place to love my grandchildren
And my poetry to write.

Could I have a chair by a window
With the sun shining in
That would make me so happy
As my eyes grow dim.

I'd be all settled in comfort
Shielded from the cold
What a glorious feeling to know
Then I am growing old...


author's note: grandmothers can be terribly important. as you can tell, mine was extremely important to me. the poet "gene" certainly runs in my family...my grandma, my mother, and both my daughters write prose that inspires and moves me across all time.

two of my recent poems

the bridge
by tim kavi

from
my otherness
across
the
narrow ridge

brave journeys
beheld
the bridge

taking
easy
steps
accompanied
by sure
breaths

walking
across
the abyss

was more
precarious
than the
surety
of your kiss

that
brought
me across
the oceans
to your bliss

to your
sweet lips
eternally sought
from a goddess
was bought

by our
redemptive love

and in
the morning
cold
when my steps
are not so
sure

in the
birthing
forlorning
old

the stones
of your
love

will build
every day
the bridge.


"Ground of Promise"
a Poem of Spring
by Tim Kavi

freshly
plowed earth
greets
the warming
sun

steam
rises as
life digs
through
seeking birth
in the sandy
soil

even there
it has roots
dawning

the tiny
seedlings
of a new
life

placed
there
by nature's
midwife

not evident
yet
is the full
realization
of that
which is
brought forth

that which is
your loving
hands
placed it there.

"Hills of the Rich" (New Poem) with comments

"From the Hills of the Rich"
by Tim Kavi

tell me
pretty one
tell me
of all
you've done
where is the
song
coming from?

where is the
wrong
coming from?

everywhere
misjustice
flows

did you know?

ten thousand
souls
in the valley
below

are screaming
are scheming
to take your
mountain house
of which
they are dreaming

they are dreaming

your armies
will crush
them
send them back
below

where all
the "non people"
go

why are they
dreaming
dreams are
the only
rest
for the
oppressed

that weren't
blessed

to be born
from where
you're seeing

you're seeing

what will
you do next?

poet's comments: this is about oppressed peoples everywhere and everywhen.
Any resemblance to what is happening in Tibet recently is coincidental.--T.K.

update regarding: o the technology

well happily...

the failure of computerized technology recently was only a momentary blip...

I received my completely repaired system back from the manufacturer after only a week's delay. my old system worked sufficiently until the return...

so all appears to be well

numerous sacrifices to the computer gods continue

I have no excuse no tto keep writing! :-)

o the technology

what webs they devise to deceive us !

I have been hard at work on my novel "Mistaken Identities" .

I was working hard, writing some of my best stuff to date. (I am not easy to please at all, but I was happy for once). The subplots are moving along, the storylines beginning to converge and the characters are doing both expected and unexpected things as the story unfolds. (I know you know what I mean). But when the technology also does unexpected things, what then?

Three days ago I backed up the entire novel on a portable storage device. One of those small memory devices you can plug into any USB port on a computer. So at least I have that.

Then I write two days ago the whole day, a great scene. Pretty happy with it.

Yes you can tell where this is going huh?

Yesterday morning at 6:20 AM ( the next morning after the writing), I woke up to the sound of a huge hissing. (No it wasn't a giant lizard). I hear it coming form my brand new computer system. There is a large pop (as it has just arced), and I see a flash of white light (not that white light), and the end of story (literally) is that my system is completely not functioning after the electric event. (It happened even though the system had been powered down for the night. The power supply appears to be toast and maybe the motherboard).

It is under warranty (like I said this system is NEW)....but NOT THE WRITING!

So, the great scene I just wrote--a day's full labor is gone. The system must go in for warranty repair and I cannot tamper with the hard drive, or it will void the warranty. They tell me it will be reset to factory settings when I get it back, if I get it back.

I know this sounds like whining, and it is ONLY one FULL day's work, so I suppose I really am lucky. If it had been the entire novel, that would have been a disaster, but even I, am not fool enough to never have backed that up in several places ! Still, I was pleased with that day's work, and now it will have to be redone. wah!

I just love these forced rewrites! And the lesson is save every day and back it up somewhere else! Every time!

so rather than become discouraged...

I will write it again right away while it is fresh in my memory.

So I hook up my old computer yesterday.

This morning I sat down to rewrite the scene from two days ago...on THAT system.

Now, my old computer..

It has been Ms. Reliable for ten years. I upgraded it over the years. I wrote my previously published works on it. Still it was slow on the net, and I wanted to be able to watch DVDs and so on and listen to music and it just didnt have the processor, so I bought that new one...BUT AT LEAST I COULD WRITE ON THIS OLD SYSTEM...

This morning, I fire it up. Then IT TOO collapses... not for the same reason , but for now it seems unrepairable as well.

Then my glasses broke!

IS this entropy gone awry? What ruse is this?

So what technology daimon conspires against me?

And where is the good old typewriter, I know I used to have one..you know that thing that writers used to use to write with?

so will I beg borrow or steal another computer to get going? Or do I break out the pen and paper...

or will the pen run out of ink or break next!

thanks for reading this rant...

people do not know how frustrating this can be when the writing is flowing, nor the seemingly unsurmountable difficulties the author could have faced WHILE writing that book that they are holding in their hands.

still smiling and knowing I wont be deterred. Even if I have to take my little USB storage device to every rented or borrowed computer in town!

stay tuned for further details

tim kavi