[Poetry Search] [Contact Us] [FREE Site] [Home] [Poets] [Chat] [Login]

Behind Walls of Data

In the Last Green Hours

Crucible of Light

Dogs (A micropoem)

The Angels of Hawksbill Mountain

Beyond the Gates of Orion

Sanctuary Within

The Sacred Opulence of Abundant Joy

Sitting With Stars

Light of the Tempest


Follow the Birdsong

Celestial Rite

One More Moon Beside Me

Legacy of Ash

Born in a Field of Light

Resurrection in Albemarle County

Dialogue With Silence

Moving Past the Dream

Deadly and Merciful Blue

Sky Full of Legends

On the Border of Earth and Being

Who You Really Are

Council of Stars

Scattered As One

Unfinished Bridge To the Infinite

Scenes from Within

Moon of Secrets

Memories of the Kingdom

In the Church of Ordinary Miracles

Finding Religion in Sperryville

Theater of Shadow and Light

Sapphire Birth

Web of Infinity

Voices from a Choir of Stars

Traveler in the Unseen

Into the Silence

A Soft Ascent

Through a Sacred Forest

Innocent Questions

On the Bridge After a Storm

The Sound of Creation

Your Song in the Ivy

Universe Within

New Empire

Another Afterlife

Where the Wind Lives

Another Kind of Prayer

Indigo Fire

Last Inch of Flame

Blue Home

Sacred Crone

What the Deer Understands

Some Water Lilies I Used to Know

Gates of Orion

Requiem for Yesterday

In a Moment of Understanding

April Snow

Symphony in Sable

Justice Denied


Graduation Day

Fire from a Distant Life

Frozen Retreat

Welcome Jack

Remembering Spring

A River's Chant

Shadows of December

Please Live

Unholy Love

A Silent Knowing

Morning Candle

A Multitude of One

Love is Now

Follow the Birdsong 2


Night of the Broken Glass, Revisited

Someone Else's Paradise

Canvas of Gold (A Tribute to Poetry Sites)

On the Edge of a Dead World

A Very Late Apology

It Is You

When Two Hearts beat as One


His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us


Born in a Field of Light

When was the last time you looked up
and allowed the clarity to rain down
and become your body?

The sky is more felt
and heard
than seen:
an a cappella blue,
a thousand names for joy,
a siren's delicate peril—
or is it simply a call to rise?

And what am I going to do
with all this purity?

I left myself for a
truer place and invited
everything privileged
to know that it lives
into my unearned freedom.

Yes, I know there is anguish in
the world and I know there's a
war going on between who we are
and what we became, and
there are empty people
with lost stories and
words gouging out our hope of
any justice and
lies pasted to a planet
with so much potential, but
living a cynical split-life,
a parody of comfort,
a trapdoor actually, leading
to high-voltage fear always
hissing under our skin,
whether we know it or not,
because the hate out there is
too real and too fertile,
and is worn
with pride like vestments
in a fiery mass.

A crowd of weeping faces
follows me to a honeyed field where
thoughts come to live.

A robin shines through
with the color

and faith

of martyrdom,
spreads its soft wings
and glides upon light.

Patricia Joan Jones

©2000 - 2002 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors

[ Control Panel ]
Last 100 Poems

Search over
30,000 poems!