“Poetry arises from the natural action of the human spirit. Does not every human being strive and compose at every moment?”
— Novalis, Heinrich von Ofterdingen
Poetry Night / St. John’s Celebration
On June 25, 2022, the Section for the Literary Arts and Humanities of the School for Spiritual Science in North America met by Zoom for another Poetry Night. This was our last meeting of the Spring Semester. Our regular Section meetings will resume at Michaelmas. During the summer watch for irregular events such as New Moon Salons and impromptu gatherings. Follow the Flow at TheLiteraryArts.com.
When Number, Math and Figures
Are no longer keys to every creature,
When those who sing and kiss
Know more than learned scientists,
When the world takes joy to be alive
And in rejoicing, breathes and thrives,
When once more, shadow and light
Espouse the birth of true insight,
And in poetry and story, the human being
Grasps the world’s eternal meaning,
Then forth before a secret word shall fly
That thing of falsehood – error, lies.
— Novalis, from Heinrich von Ofterdingen (Trans. Bruce Donehower)
Original Poetry Read During the Meeting
All original poems are ©2022 by the signed poet.
Poem by Peter Rennick
At Jacob’s Well Valentine
The waters of the world
As its shining soul and all
It continents as limbs
Always at the mercy of the waves
If I picture Atlantis and spring
Floods baptizing whole deltas
At the place where rivers meet
And flow together separately
The imprint of the swirls betraying dancing
I start to feel how the world
Is slowly dissolving in its longing
Always to return to its source
And the depths always rising to the surface
In the rain that tries its best
But who will slake the water’s thirst
Poem by Dan Davis
solo for oboe
one would enchant the other
into or out of the(ir) forest
wind would stir the clouds
but they stray off in
strands that thin
wind would tune the chimes
but tones linger mingled
to silence absent
wind would not be the sun
or any night, not a chance,
no such solemn course,
chorus after chorus,
ever after chaos
but wind would be
lo, wind makes the leaves’ shudder
that causes their source stem some
true, that, too,
but too near.. the dark wood their reeds let extend the human lips
the human breath the fingers mingled press— air carries /lets human ears guide
the souls thereby be blessed: dark wood/ that took the shadows like the rain/
reeds, too/took in and forth.
Poem by Bruce Donehower
Poem to a Woman, Awakening
no one is alone.
The dark grassland
sways to remind us
that the future is revealed
in plainest things.
On a far country road
I met you walking –
woman of seven faces,
were more alive
that year, no one
had named them –
in the sound
of the birds
Sister between the shadows, silent
at every breath
I feel myself
Where are you now
on that road we never followed,
Where no one
Poem by Sandra Stoner
There once was a mountain man Gary
Who thought in his gardens to tarry
A man of good cheer
Who enjoyed his beer
And many a veggie his quarry.
There once was a grandpa named John
Of his men’s group he felt very fond.
Bring on a good meal
He’ll enjoy it with zeal!
And then drive his Tesla till dawn!
In Zac there is a fine son
Who many a prize he has won
He can talk a fine tune
With his clients to swoon
And shanties he sings are quite fun.
Poem by Philip Thatcher
A Pin Poem
of a bad
Just for now
to the mat
We owe you
I owe you
Poem by Nicholas Morrow
The Hat Walk
In a dream, I joined you on the hat walk,
others going before in ceremonial procession,
some with hats worn back exposing their radiant brow,
others with hair combed and brushed like antennae,
sensing the finer frequencies of air and ecstatic ether,
communing with supersensible entities, hovering,
enlightening the Earth and majestic mountains,
with subterranean chambers and sacred pools
for inspiration and reflection.
Honoring the past with its gift and consequence,
we speak holy words, prayers to evoke spirit’s intention,
giving form to substance, thought to imagination,
and authenticity to love, recognizing who we are
throughout the annuals of time.
Upon sacred ground we walk, touching the Earth
that is the source from which we spring,
sensing her awareness of our gratitude and adoration,
her prayer resounding as if our prayer is the same.
In a hush of recognition, thought and feeling cease.
All that remains is halleluiah, resounding still,
with the alchemical wedding only lovers know,
and in knowing birth beauty, ferocious and kind,
compassionate in its splendor.
As we walk we pray and spirit is nurtured,
fed from the love burning in our hearts.
Poem by Rosemary McMullen
What’s Going On?
Dedicated with fond thanks to Foundation Students and Faculty,
Sunbridge College, May 2003
When in pre-dawn hours I wake and barely think,
Odd remnants of my classmates come to view,
Recalling this one’s sandwich, that one’s drink,
A dozen knitters, ten toes of darkest hue.
Angels, demons, dead relatives and friends
Join us for Main Lesson every morn.
Archetypes, gods and goddesses parade without end
As feelings burst ablaze. That’s love. THERE’S scorn!
Above, around, within, sylphs, undines, gnomes,
Ten million salamanders in a drop of mayonnaise.
One soul speaks — etheric waves unroll
Geometric grids of thought in astral space.
Then birds twitter, begin their songs of praise.
I rise to meditate, full thankful for these days.
All original poems are ©2022 by the signed poet.