otherpoetry

Other Poetry By Jacqueline Howett

In My Native Land

In my native land
They tell stories
of the never ending road,
That they have travelled on,
They want me to know
about the why
that I am being here,
They look at me
and I see their hidden tears,
They have gathered, everyone of them,
feathers for my journey,
They talk of the heart
I will come to know,
That will break first,
in order to be strong,
To make a Warrior's soul.

Copyright (c) 2008 Jacqueline Howett

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Metamorphosis

Metamorphosis
Shafts of light
Discerning the light of truth
Man's higher self
Delicately evolving
Slips out of reach
Yet in man's hope and faith
There's a glimpse
of our wondrous treaure of light
smiling at its certainty
amidst the darkness, decay, destruction and struggle.

Copyright (c) 2008 Jacqueline Howett

Poems and Art are copyright. Please E-mail if intending to use, thank you.
jacquelinehowett@hotmail.com

I wrote this poem. 'Sands of time,' to my entry into America, when I seemingly fled Old England in 1988, at the beginning of the first Arab invasion, not long after the Arabs became educated. And while running away from all that was Europe in change, (It was also the beginning of the computer era.) I was looking back across the channel from my new home on the water in Falmouth, Maine relieved yet somewhat puzzled this was New England. Baxter Island was at my door step. A beautiful untouched landscape on rock where I frolicked with my two pekenese dogs I had brought with me. Baxter Island was a solitary place for the death, dumb and blind. And yet, I felt this is what I had done to Europe for a time.

Baxter Island,
Falmouth, Maine
in 1988.

SANDS OF TIME

Traces of life revealed,
Smoothed over by a gentle tide,
Across sands and landscapes wide,
Reaching out across time,
In silent echoes we hear.
From so far-- is felt so near.
How 'all life's' precious, my dear.
Dec (c) 1988-2008. Jacqueline Howett