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Selkie Girl by Jessica Shirley with kind permission
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Sunday, October 31, 2010

To My Own Self

230Taken in Sculpture Garden / Shidoni Foundry in Tesuque, N.M.


To My Own Self

My hands the Hook thunder hangs its hat on,
My breast the Arroyo storms fill with water,
My brow the Horizon sunrise fills,
My heart the Dawn weaving blue threads of day,
My soul the Song of all life...

Jimmy Santiago Baca

*Shidoni—A Navajo Greeting for a Friend

Saturday, October 30, 2010

The Rio Grande: A View of Pueblo Land

200 US highway 285 returning from Ojo Caliente to Santa Fe October 2010

I Am Offering this Poem


I am offering this poem to you,

since I have nothing else to give.

Keep it like a warm coat

when winter comes to cover you,

or like a pair of thick socks

the cold cannot bite through,

                         I love you,

I have nothing else to give you,

so it is a pot full of yellow corn

to warm your belly in winter,

it is a scarf for your head, to wear

over your hair, to tie up around your face,

                         I love you,

Keep it, treasure this as you would

if you were lost, needing direction,

in the wilderness life becomes when mature;

and in the corner of your drawer,

tucked away like a cabin or hogan

in dense trees, come knocking,

and I will answer, give you directions,

and let you warm yourself by this fire,

rest by this fire, and make you feel safe

                         I love you,

It’s all I have to give,

and all anyone needs to live,

and to go on living inside,

when the world outside

no longer cares if you live or die;


                         I love you.

Jimmy Santiago Baca, “I Am Offering this Poem” from Immigrants in Our Own Land and Selected Early Poems. Copyright © 1990 by Jimmy Santiago Baca. Reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corporation.
Source: Immigrants in Our Own Land and Selected Early Poems (New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1990)



Jimmy Santiago Baca (1952 - )

Jimmy Santiago Baca

Born in 1952 in Santa Fe of Chicano and Apache descent, Jimmy Santiago Baca was abandoned by his parents and at 13 ran away from the orphanage where his grandmother had placed him. He was convicted on drug charges in 1973 and spent five years in prison. There he learned to read and began writing poetry. His semiautobiographical novel in verse, Martin and Meditations on the South Valley (1987), received the 1988 Before Columbus Foundation’s American Book Award in 1989. In addition to over a dozen books of poetry, he has published memoirs, essays, stories, and a screenplay, Bound by Honor (1993), which was made into a feature-length film directed by Taylor Hackford.

Baca’s work is concerned with social justice and revolves around the marginalized and disenfranchised, treating themes of addiction, community, and the American Southwest barrios. In a Callaloo interview with John Keene, Baca claims, “I approach language as if it will contain who I am as a person”—a statement that reflects the poet’s interest in the transformative and generative power of language. Immigrants in Our Own Land (1979, 1991) was Baca’s first significant collection, one based on his imprisonment. In the Encyclopedia of American Literature, Catherine Hardy wrote that the poems in the volume “reveal an honest, passionate voice and powerful imagery full of the dark jewels of the American Southwest landscape (llanos, mesas, and chiles) and the chaotic urban landscape (nightclubs, rusty motors, and bricks) woven into a rich lyricism sprinkled with Spanish.”

Baca’s other poetry titles include Healing Earthquakes (2001), C-Train & 13 Mexicans (2002), Winter Poems Along the Rio Grande (2004), and Spring Poems Along the Rio Grande (2007).  In addition to the American Book Award, Baca has received a Pushcart Prize and the Hispanic Heritage Award for Literature. His memoir, A Place to Stand(2001), garnered the International Prize. In 2006, Baca was awarded the Cornelius P. Turner Award, which honors GED graduates who have made “outstanding contributions” in areas such as education, justice, and social welfare.

Baca has conducted writing workshops in prisons, libraries, and universities across the country for more than 30 years. In 2004 he launched Cedar Tree, a literary nonprofit designed to provide writing workshops, training, and outreach programs for at-risk youth, prisoners and ex-prisoners, and disadvantaged communities. Baca holds a BA in English and an honorary PhD in literature from the University of New Mexico.

* I dedicate this blogpost to all people who feel that they are alone—even when they are among others. Never forget your own weight and value in the world. You are and always will be worthy of love.

--Noelle Renee

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Haiku My Heart: Aspen Gold


Aspen Vista Santa Fe

I Sang A New Song

Vista in all its glory

With Leafy Notes Gold-Orange

139Aspen Angel Choirs


--Noelle Clearwater October 2010

Photos by Noelle Clearwater,

taken in Aspen Vista, Santa Fe, New Mexico

For More Haiku My Heart Please Enjoy Recuerda Mi Corazon

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Some Ducky Fun

picasion.com_31882d9ec4d8d2d30dd5e833ed5cda39Photo by Noelle Clearwater , Oct. 2010 in Albuquerque New Mexico at the U.N.M duckpond.


From troubles of the world I turn to ducks,
Beautiful comical things
Sleeping or curled
Their heads beneath white wings
By water cool,
Or finding curious things
To eat in various mucks
Beneath the pool,
Tails uppermost, or waddling
Sailor-like on the shores
Of ponds, or paddling
- Left!  Right! - with fanlike feet
Which are for steady oars
When they (white galleys) float
Each bird a boat
Rippling at will the sweet
Wide waterway…


Frank W. Harvey

My thanks to Rebecca  from recuerda mi corazon for showing me how to do this fun animation!

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Jingle Dancer

260Photo by Noelle Clearwater 2010.  “Jingle Dancer” by Joan Andrew   2005 /Bronze 26x16x 8 inches at Shidoni Foundry and Galleries in Tesuque, New Mexico.

Morning Prayers

I have missed the guardian spirit
of the Sangre de Cristos,
those mountains
against which I destroyed myself
every morning I was sick
with loving and fighting
in those small years.
In that season I looked up
to a blue conception of faith
a notion of the sacred in
the elegant border of cedar trees
becoming mountain and sky.

This is how we were born into the world:
Sky fell in love with earth, wore turquoise,
cantered in on a black horse.
Earth dressed herself fragrantly,
with regard for the aesthetics of holy romance.
Their love decorated the mountains with sunrise,
weaved valleys delicate with the edging of sunset.

This morning I look toward the east
and I am lonely for those mountains
though I've said good-bye to the girl
with her urgent prayers for redemption.
I used to believe in a vision
that would save the people
carry us all to the top of the mountain
during the flood
of human destruction.

I know nothing anymore
as I place my feet into the next world
except this:
the nothingness
is vast and stunning,
brims with details
of steaming, dark coffee
ashes of campfires
the bells on yaks or sheep
sirens careening through a deluge
of humans
or the dead carried through fire,
through the mist of baking sweet
bread and breathing.

This is how we will leave this world:
on horses of sunrise and sunset
from the shadow of the mountains
who witnessed every battle
every small struggle.

Joy Harjo


Native American Flute Music by Jay Red Eagle

Monday, October 25, 2010

Gaza Boats Filled With Childhood Hopes and Dreams

Palestinian childrens boats

Gaza children deliver dreams, hopes to outside world through mini-boats

by Emad Drimly, Saud Abu Ramadan

Around 30 mini cork boats floated on the water of Gaza Strip sea heading to the outside world with local children's messages of their dreams and suffering and calling for ending the Israeli blockade.
Dozens of Gaza children gathered on the beach, holding those mini-boats, each no longer than half meter, and put in the boats scraps of papers explaining their life and dreams under the Israeli blockade which was imposed on the enclave more than three years ago. The organizers of the event are members of "Ishtar", a Gaza-based local association that trains children on arts and acting plays on the stage. They said the Israeli naval gunships won't stop the cork boats in the territorial water.
On May 31, the Israeli naval commandos forces attacked the Gaza aid flotilla that carried aid to the Gaza Strip population and supporters. Nine Turkish activists were killed and dozens injured in the incident. Israel tried to stop any international aid ship to reach Gaza waters.
"This activity is a symbolic step and it is an attempt to convey the voices of Gaza Strip children to the outside world to call for their legitimate rights to live normally as the other children in the world," said Wa'el Afana, the coordinator of the activity and member of Ishtar.


He went on saying that the children of Palestine "had been subjected to a strong and furious Israeli war and they are still living under an unfair siege that deprived them from living a normal life. They send these scraps of papers on these symbolic boats to explain their daily suffering."
Israel has been imposing a blockade on the Gaza Strip, since Gaza militants kidnapped the Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit on June 25, 2006. However, Israel tightened the blockade after Hamas movement seized control of the enclave by force in June 2007.
Meanwhile, Ali Abu Yassin, the director of Ishtar said that this activity "is a pioneer action made by Gaza children in order to raise their voices higher to the world in order to help them ending the Israeli siege." Israel hasn't ended the blockade but eased it after the attack on Gaza flotilla on May 31.
"The number of the participating children in this activity is 33 male and female children," Abu Yassin told Xinhua, adding that they will convene on November 29 with activists that represent 50 countries at the United Nations. It will be the international day to show solidarity with the Palestinians.

Fatima Abu Hashem, one of the participating children said that she sent several messages to the world through her floating little cork boat, adding "these messages included my dreams to live in peace and in freedom and practice a normal life like the world's children."
Abu Hashem, who is a member of an acting troupe on the stage of Ishtar, added that she dreams of becoming a  famous actress, " but my dream began to vanish because of the hard situation we are living in the Gaza Strip due to the Israeli siege."
On September 28, the Israeli naval forces intercepted an aid boat organized by Jewish organizations that was sailing to the shores of the Gaza Strip and prevented it from reaching the enclave.  (Url reference is  not from this source.)
Source: Xinhua  and url is below

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Night Heron and Setting Sun

night heronLast Light, a night heron takes advantage of the last light of the setting sun. photo by Markel Erasmus (on*

The Herons of Elmwood

Warm and still is the summer night,
  As here by the river's brink I wander;
White overhead are the stars, and white
  The glimmering lamps on the hillside yonder.
Silent are all the sounds of day;
  Nothing I hear but the chirp of crickets,
And the cry of the herons winging their way
  O'er the poet's house in the Elmwood thickets.
Call to him, herons, as slowly you pass
  To your roosts in the haunts of the exiled thrushes,
Sing him the song of the green morass;
  And the tides that water the reeds and rushes.
Sing him the mystical Song of the Hern,
  And the secret that baffles our utmost seeking;
For only a sound of lament we discern,
  And cannot interpret the words you are speaking.
Sing of the air, and the wild delight
  Of wings that uplift and winds that uphold you,
The joy of freedom, the rapture of flight
  Through the drift of the floating mists that infold you.
Of the landscape lying so far below,
  With its towns and rivers and desert places;
And the splendor of light above, and the glow
  Of the limitless, blue, ethereal spaces.
Ask him if songs of the Troubadours,
  Or of Minnesingers in old black-letter,
Sound in his ears more sweet than yours,
  And if yours are not sweeter and wilder and better.
Sing to him, say to him, here at his gate,
  Where the boughs of the stately elms are meeting,
Some one hath lingered to meditate,
  And send him unseen this friendly greeting;
That many another hath done the same,
  Though not by a sound was the silence broken;
The surest pledge of a deathless name
  Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken.

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

*Guest photo from Please click on title link at bottom of photo to go to original site.

Heron’s Flight: New Age Piano Music.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Haiku My Heart: Ancient Leaves

34-aged “Aged” by Ursula I Abresch posted with kind permission of the artist

Aged Leaves, Filigree
Of Lace and Leather Bound by
Light, Autumnal Rain.
For more Haiku My Heart See Recuerda mi Corazon

Leaves in the Wind by Isaac Shepard

About The Photographer:

Ursula is a photographer in the West Kootenays, in beautiful British Columbia, Canada. She was born in Argentina, raised in both Argentina and Chile. She moved to the USA to attend university, and eventually moved permanently to Canada.  Ursula is married. She and her husband have five children. She has a degree in Education with a concentration in Art and History. She now dedicates most of her time to photography. (information taken from her website directly).

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Fall Snow

Fall Snow by SantasgirlGuest Photo:  Fall Snow by Santasgirl (

Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Sunday, October 17, 2010

For Light by John O’Donohue

meravigliaepaurasenzaparole_by_petta82-d15jc1wMERAVIGLIAEPAURASENZAPAROLE by Petta 82

Light cannot see inside things.
That is what the dark is for:
Minding the interior,
Nurturing the draw of growth
Through places where death
In its own way turns into life.

In the glare of neon times,
Let our eyes not be worn

By surfaces that shine
With hunger made attractive.

That our thoughts may be true light,
Finding their way into words
Which have the weight of shadow
To hold the layers of truth.

That we never place our trust
In minds claimed by empty light,
Where one-sided certainties
Are driven by false desire.

When we look into the heart,
May our eyes have the kindness
And reverence of candlelight.

That the searching of our minds
Be equal to the oblique
Crevices and corners where
The mystery continues to dwell,
Glimmering in fugitive light.

When we are confined inside
The dark house of suffering
That moonlight might find a window.

When we become false and lost
That the severe noon-light
Would cast our shadow clear.

When we love, that dawn-light
Would lighten our feet
Upon the waters.

As we grow old, that twilight
Would illuminate treasure
In the fields of memory.

And when we come to search for God,
Let us first be robed in night,
Put on the mind of morning
To feel the rush of light
Spread slowly inside
The color and stillness
Of a found word.

~ John O'Donohue ~

(To Bless the Space Between Us)

Lavender Twilight

Ardislamov Faniz 8-917-4159614Photo by Ardislamov Faniz


You can become blind by seeing each day as a similar one. Each day is a different one, each day brings a miracle of its own. It's just a matter of paying attention to this miracle.
Paulo Coelho

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Haiku My Heart: Waxing Moon and Landing Cranes

Moonscape, Waxing Moon and Landing Cranes by ChameleonMoonscape; waxing moon and landing cranes


Soft Moonlit Descent

Of Cranes Near the Water’s Edge;

Webbed Feet Skim the Stars.

--N. R. Clearwater  Oct. 14, 2010

To Enjoy more Haiku My Heart, visit Recuerda mi Corazon

The Lake of Cranes 4 min. long and lovely

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

The Calm After The Rain

The Calm After the RainThe Calm After the Rain

I learned the most important lesson of my life: that the extraordinary is not the birthright of a chosen and privileged few, but of all people, even the humblest. That is my one certainty: we are all the manifestation of the divinity of God.
--Paulo Coelho
Confessions of a Pilgrim, by Juan Arias.

Monday, October 11, 2010

The Journey Home

foggy morning Foggy Morning by Johnny Hemelsoen

The magic that gleams an instant between Argos and Odysseus is both the recognition of diversity and the need for affection across the illusions of form. It is nature's cry to homeless, far-wandering, insatiable man: "Do not forget your brethren, nor the green wood from which you sprang. To do so is to invite disaster."
Loren Eiseley (The Unexpected Universe)



 Please see the two links below for a brief explanation of Argos and Odysseus if you are not familiar with these names.


A link to a  brief bio on Loren Eiseley:

Saturday, October 9, 2010

The Changing Light

Sunset on the Bay by Thomas HawkSunset on the Bay by Thomas Hawk 

The Changing Light

The changing light
                 at San Francisco
       is none of your East Coast light
                none of your
                            pearly light of Paris
The light of San Francisco
                        is a sea light
                                       an island light
And the light of fog
                   blanketing the hills
          drifting in at night
                      through the Golden Gate
                                       to lie on the city at dawn
And then the halcyon late mornings
       after the fog burns off
            and the sun paints white houses
                                    with the sea light of Greece
                 with sharp clean shadows
                       making the town look like
                                it had just been painted
But the wind comes up at four o'clock
                                     sweeping the hills
And then the veil of light of early evening
And then another scrim
                  when the new night fog
                                        floats in
And in that vale of light
                      the city drifts
                                    anchorless upon the ocean
--Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Please Take the time to watch this time-lapse video in Full Screen and High Definition!. It is truly an experience! Just click on it to take it to a full-screen view.
*My Thanks to Jose Vega for sharing this on Google Buzz and making it known to me. It it a beautiful piece of HD time-lapse video work.
From Simon Christen, the Photographer: A collection of time lapses I took around the San Francisco Bay Area roughly shot over the period of one year.
Please watch in HD :-)
Find more of my work on my website
or on my flickr account:​seemoo
Music by Nick Cave - Mary's Song from the Soundtrack of "Assassination of Jesse James"


Puppy and Poppy Puppy and Poppy by Happy Jack

 When you want something, all the universe

conspires in helping you to achieve it.
Paulo Coelho

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Haiku My Heart: Ruby Mandala

Red Dahlia by Pat SampsonRed Dahlia by Pat Sampson


Ruby Mandala

Compassionately Unfolds

Healing, Golden Light.

--N.R.Clearwater October 2010


May it be by enya, sung by Celtic Woman

For more wonderful haiku fun visit Recuerda mi Corazon


“To these sentient beings I shall reveal
This sutra called Sublime Golden Light,
Which rids one of every harmful misdeed
And expounds upon the profound.”

Note: I have revised my haiku to use the phrase “golden light” after researching the sutra called Sublime Golden Light. Yellow, although beautiful, is not a healing color.


Wednesday, October 6, 2010

And Sing My Soul

Sunset Boat Sunset Boat Zafar1

At Earth’s Quiet Edge—

Embraced by the World’s Great Heart,

I set my Bow toward the Open Sea

And Sing My Soul into Belonging.

--Noelle Renee Clearwater October 2010


Enya--"On Your Shore"

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Peace XVIII an excerpt from Kahlil Gibran

 Storm Over Stubble Field, Saskatchewan, CanadaStorm Over Stubble Field, Sasketchewan, Canada. 

     The tempest calmed after bending the branches of the trees and leaning heavily upon the grain in the field. The stars appeared as broken remnants of lightning, but now silence prevailed over all, as if Nature's war had never been fought.

woman praying silhoutte
At that hour a young woman entered her chamber and knelt by her bed sobbing bitterly. Her heart flamed with agony but she could finally open her lips and say, "Oh Lord, bring him home safely to me. I have exhausted my tears and can offer no more, oh Lord, full of love and mercy. My patience is drained and calamity is seeking possession of my heart. Save him, oh Lord, from the iron paws of War; deliver him from such unmerciful Death, for he is weak, governed by the strong. Oh Lord, save my beloved, who is Thine own son, from the foe, who is Thy foe. Keep him from the forced pathway to Death's door; let him see me, or come and take me to him."

Hemingway as a soldier Ernest Hemingway as a young soldier WWI
Quietly a young man entered. His head was wrapped in a bandage soaked with escaping life.
     He approached her with a greeting of tears and laughter, then took her hand and placed against it his flaming lips. And with a voice which bespoke past sorrow, and joy of union, and uncertainty of her reaction, he said, "Fear me not, for I am the object of your plea. Be glad, for Peace has carried me back safely to you, and humanity has restored what greed essayed to take from us. Be not sad, but smile, my beloved. Do not express bewilderment, for Love has power that dispels Death; charm that conquers the enemy. I am your one. Think me not a specter emerging from the House of Death to visit your Home of Beauty.
      "Do not be frightened, for I am now Truth, spared from swords and fire to reveal to the people the triumph of Love over War. I am Word uttering introduction to the play of happiness and peace."
     Then the young man became speechless and his tears spoke the language of the heart; and the angels of Joy hovered about that dwelling, and the two hearts restored the singleness which had been taken from them.
     At dawn the two stood in the middle of the field contemplating the beauty of Nature injured by the tempest. After a deep and comforting silence, the soldier said to his sweetheart, "Look at the Darkness, giving birth to the Sun."

grainfields Grainfields by Danis

(Taken from Chapter 18 of "Tears and Laughter" by Kahlil Gibran, written in 1914)

This excerpt can be found at the link listed here. This site seems to be devoted to Gibran’s poems. I am very appreciative.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Daily by Naomi Shihab Nye

Landscape at Le Pouldu--The Isolated House by Paul Gauguin


These shriveled seeds we plant,
corn kernel, dried bean,
poke into loosened soil,
cover over with measured fingertips
These T-shirts we fold into
perfect white squares
These tortillas we slice and fry to crisp strips
This rich egg scrambled in a gray clay bowl
This bed whose covers I straighten
smoothing edges till blue quilt fits brown blanket
and nothing hangs out
This envelope I address
so the name balances like a cloud
in the center of sky
This page I type and retype
This table I dust till the scarred wood shines
This bundle of clothes I wash and hang and wash again
like flags we share, a country so close
no one needs to name it
The days are nouns:  touch them
The hands are churches that worship the world

 ~ Naomi Shihab Nye ~

(The Words Under the Words)

Saturday, October 2, 2010

“The Bright Home in Which I Live”

Bahamian Cloud Break by Chris the fuzzy Bahamian Cloud Break by Chris the Fuzzy 


I awoke
this morning
in the gold light
turning this way
and that

thinking for
a moment
it was one
like any other.

the veil had gone
from my
darkened heart
I thought

it must have been the quiet
that filled my room,

it must have been
the first
easy rhythm
with which I breathed
myself to sleep,

it must have been
the prayer I said
speaking to the otherness
of the night.

I thought
this is the good day
you could
meet your love,

this is the black day
someone close
to you could die.

This is the day
you realize
how easily the thread
is broken
between this world
and the next

and I found myself
sitting up
in the quiet pathway
of light,

the tawny
close grained cedar
burning round
me like fire
and all the angels of this housely
heaven ascending
through the first
roof of light
the sun has made.

This is the bright home
in which I live,
this is where
I ask
my friends
to come,
this is where I want
to love all the things
it has taken me so long
to learn to love.

This is the temple
of my adult aloneness
and I belong
to that aloneness
as I belong to my life.

There is no house
like the house of belonging

--David Whyte

From The House of Belonging 1992

David Whyte on Belonging and Coming Home 2 minutes long

Forgive me if this is a Redux of one of my favorite David Whyte Video,  but as Pat Conroy once said, “David Whyte makes the reading of poetry a matter of life and death. His writings have moved me and changed me.” –Pat Conroy, author of The Prince of Tides.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Haiku My Heart: Red Peonies

Red Peonies By Red Peonies by
Wine Red Peonies
And the Crisp Scent of Apple,
I Breathe in—Color
--Noelle  Renee Clearwater

Eva Cassidy True Colors
For More Fabulous Haiku Extravaganza, Please go to Recuerda Mi Corazon (Remember My Heart) and there you will find delicious and nutritious poetry and images for your consumption.