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Tanya Ruth Larson

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Kamloops, BC, CA

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martan@shaw.ca (Tanya Ruth Larson)


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Nature's Unpredictable Nature

by

Tanya Ruth Larson

Ashen clouds tethered to suspended sky,
Pulpmill smokestacks' cumuli
Tumble up a burnt mountain,
As the forest fire climbs
On back of the fanning wind,
And all falls down
Into our valley-haze,
Tucked away
By the mother of all
Climate change,
Keeping us - her children -
Praying for white wonder.

Snowshed's arsenal,
In sudden haste,
Melts away
Into the deep
Wells of spring.
The river will take more
Than its fill from glacial taps,
As people back away
From the danger of being
People
In the fearsome face
Of unpredictable nature.


A New Dawn

by

Tanya Ruth Larson

I want to weep with willows by the seashore,
A curl in shade's dance of light,
Be fresh and run wild like salmons,
Be the reason for your racing pulse,
Reignite a blaze from the spark that waned
Until forever came again.
A run on the rocks, a veil of fog,
Your lovelight finds me when horizons fade.
A pile of logs for our becoming fire,
Where coffee brews, - laced with love's liqueur,-
As you pull a splinter from my finger.
Kiss it better. Our smiles bridge the years,
And you remember my smile from a time long ago,
An age that has passed away.
The gods have made me a love-made woman
Out of the simplicity we have created;
The perfection we have always sought,
We did not know could exist again,
For we are not psychic, but we are blessed
On this bleary, dreary Sunday morning!


Sun Snake

by

Tanya Ruth Larson

Slinks
under-
ground.
Outlook
fades to shade,
brushing
brinks
of light.
Colors splay,
painting heaven
ruby red
in blood.
Man
peeling,
sun hissing;
Rest now.
Sleep
old Sol,
dream.


Monet Sky

by

Tanya Ruth Larson

Beneath the Monet sky I lay,
a brushstroke of canvas splayed,

Recognizing the cloud-lathered infusion
into silhouetted faces amassing in union;

At peace in my horizon I practice being kind,
Blessings stretched to the limits of my mind;

Green acres roll into the pastel forecast;
I whisper to the clouds, 'you are unsurpassed',
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Try as I might, the memorized poem strays from my mind
as I recite my recipes for enlightenment;
More polishing needed accordingly;
Bestow upon me not, your hormonal simplicity,
For my league is in the race for the team
The race for beatific-godly,
Gaining kindness in speed.
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Back to the clouds gusting east and they sing,
Especially to the pouring of Foch,
And the poesy of Abba
Silhouetting my beat with a 'Heart of Glass'*
I cry at the joy of inspiration,
That's you;
And the clouds that keep pumping my dreams
Full with the winds of rectitude;
Ressurection to fire the chill,
Cast of visionary dissolution,
Disillusionment a predator of my mind;
Siphening my energy, you dance
to the music that only you can find,
I pretend not to notice, only the clouds...
Only the clouds exist,
You are but a pleasant dream;
A smiling face shading my sun,
I look away, back to the feather pillows
pouring up into the bluest sky;
Tip of the mountain an indiscernable ghost,
A patch-work quilt blankets
the uneven seams of logging roads;
And another tree falls down.
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Arbutus trees shedding their paper-thin skin,
perfectly coiled scrolls awaiting a caligraphy pen,
An inpenetrable green shield exposed.
Slippery limbs curl, upwards grotesque,
into sudden weather descending on fields,
splashing the streams, obscuring the sun's ego,
Intruding on my clandestine affair
With a renowned french artist,
His painted dreams lighting my eyes,
Forever alive in fields of poppies,
Ever the bridge over waterlilies;
We huddle together under my tattered
blankets, and wait for the storm to pass,
My only yen is to strip off my clothes
like an eagle of the sun, and fly off
the naked cliff into the mirrored sky.


Conciousness Divine

by

Tanya Ruth Larson

Angelic hymns are sung by grace of phantasmic souls
Never in quietude but with force of vital calm
Definite misting of lavender-fragrance follows glow-spun aura's wake
Realm beyond here and now to the Astral Plains
Ever heightening intoxicants envolope mindful blaze

Emitting only phosphorescent stars in bay's tranquil night
More for humankind nutrients than self-aggrandized might
Miracles follow in the wake of parting seas
Amplifying vocal prophecy and prayer profundity
Nebulae shining in dark breaches of space and time
Under inspirational silent night of starry umbrella skies
Enticing watcher to reach and teach, others, truths of life
Lessons listened by level heads and those who deter the strife

Born greatness soars with Lion spirits and Eagles strong and free
Endless source of etheric nature
Nestles in meandering thoughtful fluidity
Deliverance of higher thought is what it's all about
Aspirants of omnipresent God, place not their face in doubt
Vast awareness speakers transcend beyond the mute
Intensely conceived vibrations felt amid highest love's debut.

before the birth of Christ and long after he's been gone
eventide of surety belongs to those who's lives he's crossed
nova mysteries unfold in their own due time
-and we probably already know the truth--of conciousness divine
yet, the river of forgetfulness is the keeper of the gates
even in its beauty it harbours many hates
hope for humanity's enlightening merge into beatific-godly
underlies the angel's plan to sanctify the universal body.


Spiral Staircase

by

Tanya Ruth Larson



On the pin-point of why we're here,
The universe's treasured secret,
The visionaries of divinity prepare
A paradise beyond the lighted tunnel,
Full of stars, homesick angels climb
The spiral staircase to the truth;

A cauldron brewing on a planet
With no place else to go;
Cities that look like giant
Mushrooms,
Atomic spores will spill
into the abyss of prophecy;
Or the sun will abort the galaxy,
A gust in August's inferno,
And our daily bread is toast;

Drastic weather-patterns plague,
Swelling much of the sea;
Currents beneath sucking in
The Breath of the Gods'
Masterpieces Of Mortality,
as hungry waves swallow
wasted lives and flush away down
bottomless wells, past the last chance
...lost to hell

For now smog lays claim to the day
unable to fresh its ring of haze
that has become Earth's aura,
keeping environmentalists pleading,
in sorrow and vain, overwhelmed
by the unrecognizable
face of tomorrow.


Instrument

by

Tanya Ruth Larson

While poets illuminate darkest night,
Each day another twist to world war,
On terror, I implore the leaders of strife
For peace and I walk a God-concious line.

Each day another twist to world war,
Enlisting the poets to write to form
Of peace; and I live a God-concious life
So my children of the future can dream.

Enlisting the poets to write to form,
God fills minds with indelible words
So my children of the future can dream
In color, the hope that lived in my time.

God fills minds with indelible words,
An instrument of kindness I write
In color, the hope that lived in my time
Where poets illuminate darkest nights.

Poetry Competition

Cloudy-headed Me

by

Tanya Ruth Larson

A nimiety of ego-ache slams my solar-plexus,
Green sprig of jealousy fracturing sorrow.
My kindred has ceased to be
In my pursual of enlightened grace.
I convene upon my God
To bring about my beloved other-half.
Quiet penetrates the resident air,
The tin-din threatens to puncture
My body-mind-spirit brain.
Less than the person I was yesterday
And less the one I had,
I aggrandize my own heartache;
Every morsel of memory I endeavor to find,
Open-albums scattered, heartbroke songs aplay
Upon the bed I lie...
A thousand tissues crying into my eyes
And my own alligator tears shedding years;
Staunch and steadfast was I
In my pursuit of the universe's treasure,
God's own waterfall cascaded my sensical-whimsy
And I thought I was free,
- May for a fleeting moment I was,-
But I guess it wasn't meant to be, as now I see
No white light, no sparkles in my sphere
For the clutch kicked out, likened to a similar
But less cloudy-headed me.
Ensconced in stony isolation,
In these dreams I grasp
For the face of my love
I can no longer see.

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Pink and White Light

by

Tanya Ruth Larson

Different colored auras abound around here,
surrounded by love-conditional
a facade of smoke and mirrors;
A shroud of electricity, asunder vows,
pink is of love, white light transcends
Karma's penitent gloves.
A dimension of wakeful dreams
a world of forgotten innocence,
white light intercedes
to protect falling souls from the serpent's
needs.
Call it a conciousness to be able to see;
surely as joyous as man-slaves freed.
The bridge from life to death, a journey of light,
sparkling pink and transluscent white.
Colors of green red and black
require drastic life changes
to a pink and white track.
Looking at others' lost souls,
encircling them, sincerely, in white light glow,
creating harmonious ties, braided together
our cells, our souls intertwine, as one becomes whole
with conciousness divine
where pink and white light exist and shine.
I hereby encircle you - the reader of this poem -
in pink and white light; let it be known.
Open the conciousness of those you hold dear
with positive thought for all to hear.
Forget not of yourself, divine ray of light,
your honor, your just dessert
wrapped in pink and white light.
Higher conciousness served.
Fearless and kind, we stand in awe
of the control of the Universal Mind.
For all you shapeshifters without a cause
the unenlightened contract comes with a clause--
To escape the wrath of the evil night
(whether in this life or the next)
we must grasp the concept of pink and white light.
We must return to our innocence
for ever-lasting life,
love and deliverance.

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Old Soul

by

Tanya Ruth Larson

Old Soul
You're back as an old soul,
Sailing through a personality
Your previous lives foretold;
When I told you that your eyes glazed,
Like it's a dream you want to remember.
And when you told me
I have the eyes of desire, I knew
I'd loved you before.
Generations have surpassed you,
You had to live it all again;
The sight of the beautiful, (I have the pictures)
The breach fawn lived;
The addiction of aquired taste,
A city too wild for Yukon boys;
The feel of my arms wrapped around your ribs
In the abyss of passion nights;
The sounds of the symphony AC/DC
Who did make who? you ask.
I don't really know, but you made me
Thunderstruck!
You figure time is running out on the world
So you race through lives,
Learning as much as you can
So you can come back as a rock star;
Hoping, next time, to see you're prospering
And that your salt and pepper shakers never get wet
Nor run dry. Remember California
Rolls by the ocean.
And that the cliches you never get right
Just might be the truth of life.
And to see the Earth's shattering finale live,
That's what I wish for you; But...
Your mother says Pluto will be the survivor!
The galaxy's number one.
So why did Christ have to walk the infernal-test
Through the desert of our salvation?
He was pretty good about it, don't y' think?
When you're bored you shine your sword,
In the know, short notice may be given,
For the blood of Armageddon will be
Shed on cowards' doorsteps.
Feeling guilty is for fools, you say.
Being able to comb your hair in the morning,
That's what's important, right?
You were just watering your roses,
Thanking God that mountain is there
Shielding us from the blistering sun.
Peeling, hissing, sun kissing
Less fortunate skin than ours,
And I had to write you down.

Dedicated to Martin Spahmann, the love of my lives.
Also dedicated to all husbands and wives.


Poetry Competition