Idyllic Productions

Selections from Poems of Peace and Renewal
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                         An Archetype

Somewhere in an old-growth forest,
a woman smoothly moves amidst
shadows of the pines and hardwoods.
Her mossy gown is verdant green,
her hair twinkles with mica, and
her soul, deep as a midnight sky,
with remote star clusters beaming.
She tends the ruins of an ancient inn
and a bed of ferns and roses.
Many a nomad, passing through,
is revived by her grace and goodness.
Though we can't lay hands on her,
she wanders free within our grasp,
For the ancient inn beguiles us still
in the labyrinths of our minds.

                        --Carol Mays

       A Woodland Walk

The pensiveness of the sky
is broken by the cry of a crow,
by trees distilling intimacy
and moist, vibrant expectancy.
Violets, ferns, and birches
share life-giving vapors.
The chalk-bleak horizon
and pungent, poignant odors
whisper sonorous secrets.
The visitor is enveloped
in this pithy, soulful world,
all cells saturated
with a suggestive sustenance.

                       --Carol Mays


We entered the cathedral through tall 
The sun shone through the leaves in a 
  stained glass pattern.
We walked down the aisle carpeted in green.

In the distance the river was the bass of a
  pipe organ.
A stream made its way to the river,
a melody to the hymn of nature.
Birds sat in the trees singing harmony.

We continued down the grassy aisle,
rejoicing in the beauty that nature revealed.
We walked in silence; our hands joined
Then, arm in arm, we followed the path,
as it made its way through the sacred woods.

The sound of the river grew louder, filling
  our hearts,
bringing comfort to our souls.
We came to the river's edge and knelt beside 
  the rushing stream.
As I gazed into the water, clear and soothing,
I felt peace settle into my heart and soul

I've been to many sacred places;
I've read sacred texts, heard sacred songs,
looking for answers that were not there.
But here, in this cathedral, not made by man,
I came face to face with God.

                         --Gary Blanchard

          Vapor and Blue

Domed with the azure of heaven,
Floored with a pavement of pearl,
Clothed all about with a brightness
Soft as the eyes of a girl,

Girt with a magical girdle,
Rimmed with a vapor of rest--
These are the inland waters,
These are the lakes of the west.

Voices of slumberous music,
Spirits of mist and of flame,
Moonlit memories left here
By gods who long ago came,

And vanished left but an echo
In silence of moon-dim caves,
Where haze-wrapt the August night slumbers,
Or the wild heart of October raves.

Here where the jewels of nature
Are set in the light of God's smile,
Far from the world's wild throbbing,
I will stay me and rest me awhile.

And store in my heart old music,
Melodies gathered and sung
By the genies of love and of beauty
When the heart of the world was young.

             --William Wilfred Campbell
               Canadian Poet, 1860-1918