Ygdrasil Journal of Poetic Arts. May 1999

... but, to describe her art, some of which has been displayed in a previous issue of the Ygdrasil, is not the easiest thing in the world to do. Like her world of art, her writing is special, and makes me think that it is all borne out of a special feeling that she has, and works with, instead of a particular art form that she has developed over time. Much of this poetry was written way before she started her pioneering work with meditation and angels.

Like her art, much of this writing is mired in total visualization, and has un uncanny ability top draw you in. Be it a poem about a teddy bear, or a light breeze, it always has a connection, that may not be considered poetic by academic standards, but is poetic to our ears, if we only allow ourselves to fly into what could be considered a sentimental part of ourselves.

These are not poems, laden with "meaning", as much as they are reflections of moments in time. Most of us, when we write these things, may have ideas that poetry is an exercise in describing our living mind's movie. In the middle of all that, is a bunch of stuff that may appeal to a writer only, many of them famous for baring their very souls. Well, welcome to the opposite of that feeling, where words do not have hidden meanings that are under our skin. There are no symbols in this work, nothing intellectual to work with. Just plain and simple living, with a slight splash here and there.

The funny thing, is that Vina's own art style is the same thing, even if it does not appear to be so. Many look at those works, or these words, and think that these are symbolic pictures of something that we are totally afraid to learn and find out about ... the spirit/energetic side of ourselves. Her work is a "photograph" of these sides of ourselves, and in many ways describe these sides of ourselves with the same simplicity that these poems here do. If we only knew and understood the simplicity behind all this and realized what it means to us all.

For this reason, I have never considered her work an "art". It is "art" only in the splashes of color and style, but they are not anything of the sort, since there is no subjective point of view to come from to try and explain to people that this is the way that things are and happen. Her work, just IS. Nothing more, nothing less. Either we accept it as a truth, or we dismiss it because it does not look like all the other poems, Angel or Deva pictures that we have ever seen her draw.

Throughout the time when Vina and I worked together and were a part of several "Psychic Fairs" in the Seattle area, many people thought that this is the work of a woman re-living her childhood. And this has always attracted many people to her that liked the apparent fantasy side of her work. The "fairies", the "gnomes", the "devas", are the entities that readily catch everyone's eyes. What constitutes a "vision" for anyone looking at the blue and yellow lines, could very well constitute a vision of cyan and lemon colored ribbons. I always believed that this is the kind of "seeing" that creates what we call "art".

But few people really see the immediate illustration of the inner spirit in its truest form ... the one that scares the living daylights out of our day ... because it is so real, so powerful and so full of vivacity, that makes it hard for us to look at ourselves in the mirror and accept that reality and its accompanying abilities.

All I did through the time I spent with her, was help put words to her work. It may have been that my imagination for the un-real that made a good match for her. The style, may have been a rather flowing visualization of the things she saw, in the best way that we can describe on paper. She would say, ... "it's a fog ...", and I would reply, ... "good, a fog. What does it look like?... any details about the fog, green, blue, red, fast, slow ... but she already knew how to do this with pens in the manner of poetry and writing. Terrible spelling, but awesome feeling. But when one looks at her art work, it's hard to find even one dot that doesn't fit anywhere, or seems superfluous.

Throughout the many meditations she taped, and the many moments we shared, one thing was clear. she draws and paints like no other. I write poetry, short stories, and many other things. I found a comment once that really defined what people like us do. "We may be alone, but never lonely!" I sincerely know that to be true to the umpteenth degree, and Vina is my immediate next example. Her poetry is the wording/writing version of what she does with brushes, pens and pencils. In foreign language film reviews, I always try to help describe to the reader, the feelings that I got while experiencing the work. When it hits me well, I really have no words with which to describe these things. I have always defined this as a lyrical side of myself and have never sat down to study it. I like it too much to dissect it.

How does one describe it? SIMPLE. DON'T. I have no idea. But needless to say, there is a lyrical quality to her work, which you can compare to the images that I have shared with many others, but these do not even come close to giving any one of us an indication of what she is about.

I say that her poetry has the same "breezy" and "lyrical" edge that is hard to find in much work. It has a smoothness of rhythm that is even harder to describe, which I attribute to music. Her expression, is a flow of energy that comes off like music. Hers, I would describe as a cavalcade of flowing motions, that are not necessarily defined by a string section. One never gets the jarring feeling with her words, even in anger. Much of this, seems to be intuited and ready for what has been called the "new age" material. I consider this the work of a real poet, what I call a "poet of the heart", something that I always say that she wrote the book on.

Without further ado, here is a fine smattering of her poetry, written in an order that I refuse to define. I wondered which poem I should use first, but they all stood up and said ... no, no, no ... leave it as it is, as you saw it ... and I did. This is Vina's main truth in her work.

NOTE: Most of these poems will be found in the Ygdrasil's first AUDIO issue, along with three other people. her contribution to my life is something that I feel needs to be shared as others also deserve it, sometimes much more so than I.

Soft whispering winds swirlin' around your soul,
Lifting you up to where you'd like to go.
Clouds that meet and greet you with loving softness they will treat you
You'll find your soul they will ever so gently unfold,
You'll drift away in happiness that other's can't hold.
You can't have these dreams is what you are told,
But the soft whispering winds already have their hold.
You're drifting off.  You're on your way.
When you get there it won't matter how long you stay.

Summer rain fall gently upon my face.
Take me into your sweet embrace,
Hold me with all your love as it comes from Heaven above,
In your rainbows all sorrows melt away,
I'll take a summer shower any day.

Oh how I love you my sweet children of mystery,
So truly beguiling and wonderfully free
How is it you have come from the blue unknown?
How is it you have so suddenly grown?
Life is enfolded so tiny and warm.
How is it I have survived the storm?
Now you are from me, my heart is so torn,
Love is forever but never tarnished or worn,
How is it that you are always with me?
My love is forever, my sweet children of mystery.

Summer mornings sweetly fragrant and so serene,
I love summer mornings knowing what they mean,
Just for me and the birds alone,
A truly heavenly experience I have known,
The sweet purr of water sprinklers singing filling the days 
				with the happiness they bring,
sunlight playing with the shadows here and there,
Summer mornings calling me giving me all their joys to share.

Sweet hidden memories drifting far beyond.
Very reluctant to move so much further on.
Peeking at hidden memories softens the heart a bit.
Climb your mountain to find a soothing place to sit.
Leave in the foothills the moments of snow.
Lay down your cares knowing you can somehow.
Lay yourself quietly down beside hidden memories.
Let them hug you and look upon what your knowing heart sees.
Let yourself go where sweet hidden memories make their home.
Then you too will find you'll never again be alone.

To me love is diamonds dancing in the sun.
heart shaped rainbows on the run.
It leaves colors flying in the air.
Left behind are traces that it's been there.
Sometimes it's a shadowy nymph of one I knew.
Often times it's caught up in the early morning's dew.
sometimes it throws soft shadows from a heart it's found.
Then it goes stealing off without a sound.
Now and then it frolics like there's no tomorrow.
And it even looks for hearts that it can borrow.

When I was a little child I had a big cedar tree.
I loved it so much and it loved me.
I played among strong anchored roots.
I hid behind it's tender new shoots.
I lived under the shade enjoying the lacy green.
It's still the most precious tree I've ever seen.
Cedar fragrances drifting from it's heart were filling
			my head with dreams from the very start.
It gave me it's cones to play with all along and a soft
			forest pillow to lay upon.
Standing so straight and tall it always kept me safe from harm.
It's huge branches hugging me like loving arms.
Wouldn't it be Wonderfull if everyone could have a cedar tree?
I know now how wise it was when raising me.

A melodious voice so easily travels to within.
Drifting along paths where no other voice has been.
Leaving behind a pleasure heather to never before known.
What a joy is shared because of this and this alone.
It should be set free with wonder, launching it on its way.
So then it can be truly captured to enjoy another day.

Did you ever watch a falling rain drop kiss a windshield?
It stretches out to reach the others, seeing how many it can steal.
Heavy with its rainbows, it hangs on refusing to let go.
But, slowly loosing its grip, it slithers downward for God
				did make it so.

I wish I could sit down and write all kinds of poems.
I'd write about the songs of birds and the places I've known.
I'd write of my dreams and of the woods where I've been.
About how I long to be there dreaming once again.
Sometimes I dream of things out of the lingering past.
I also dream of the future, coming up so fast.
I'd write of the mysteries little soft hands can hold.
Little hands enfolding hearts in gentleness so great it can't hold.
I'd speak of the people I love, always extending their hearts to me.
I'd tell about all the things I love and the person I'd like to be.
But these are the kinds of things that can't be put into words.
So, I'll just go on wishing and spending my time with the birds.

Oh, silent wind, you've been sneaking about on your toes.
Where you've quietly been travelling,no one ever goes.
But, you have passed unnoticed among memories where they begin.
You cause the rustlings of a silent heart to live again.
What makes you so wise in the art of moving about.
The mysteries you carry you shall keep forever, no doubt.
Ah, but that I could be so wise and pass silently
				through life on my toes.
I do wish never to disturb secret places where 
				no one else ever goes.

The golden grains are waving to me as I am passing by.
We are all one. The golden grain, the soft breeze and I.
There are golden wheat fields as far as the eye can see.
They've all been put there somehow quietly waiting just for me.
The breezes are softly carrying me to where I've never been.
I really hope I can soon return to this golden place again.

Old teddy bears carry invisible spoons around with them all the time.
Some are small, some are large, some of just most any kind.
They quietly stir up the memories in the childhood of your minds.
Gently taking us back to the joys we've reluctantly left behind.
sometimes the stirrings may happen to cause a tiny tear.
That's because a beloved special old teddy is no longer here.
But the teddies all work diligently together for those
				already up on high.
Taking care of stirrings for teddies up in that forest in the sky.
They reach out to us to be picked up, loved and even for us to hold.
They remind us of those childhood memories of which we like to be told.
So, the very next time you see that special teddy, better
				watch out for his spoon.
'Cause he'll be stirrin' up those fading memories especially
				in a heart where there's a child's room.

You had an intoxicating fragrance about you that lifted
	my spirits so high as I passed through your welcoming doors.
Such a special building you are, made from brick and glass
	stirring memories of days that had passed long before.
I could see so clearly all your little children were kept
	very safe within your well planned walls.
that fragrance just kept drifting around me as I strolled
	up and down those beautifully decorated halls.
I'm glad you so willingly invited me to come into your world
	to share my teddy bears.
I could tell you how unique you were when meeting those 
	happy children and just how much you really do care.
You were a very handsome school and when I think about it, 
	just one of the best that I can recall.
You must feel very proud to be standing so prominently along
	with being tops among them all
Thank you whole heartedly for stirring long forgotten memories
	from where they silently stood.
I'm so happy we met and it's plain to see, you are the only
	kind of school that could.

I know God. God is a spirit that cannot be captured. His personality shows in all He does. His infinite spirit pervades all that is. He has caused living energies to be. They are around all things in and on the earth. That which is sleeping. He alone awakens. I trust Him. There is wisdom and beyond. If this were not true, there would be no need for us to be here. Loving nature as deeply as I do, Helps me perceive intelligence and to gain a timely wisdom. I do not want to know more than He wants me to. I find it interesting that my body is but another form of Mother Earth. Think about it. All the food you eat comes from Mother Earth. Food is but yet another form of Mother Earth also. Your start came from Mother Earth since your parents ate food too. Face it, God does have things all planned. Believe in Him. Why fight it? You'll never win your way. Live your life by falling softly into the rhythm of nature, which is His plan. You'll be much happier. Fill your life with as many natural things as you can. living things or otherwise. Take long walks in the country or in a garden and talk to animals. God will tell you lots of things He wants you to know. Actually, it will make Him very happy to walk with you in the woods. He loves nature too. That's why He created it. Therefore I know I belong. I belong fully to Nature. We all do. No one can separate themselves from Nature, though often, futilely they try. I choose God, whole heartedly rather than chance and chaos. There is a great spirit at the heart of all the universe. I know because He alone has told me this is so.

One small black hair on my bed is all I have left.
It's from my sweet little Mitzie, my loving pet.
I know she's up in Doggie Heaven sometimes looking down on me.
She loved me and took me for whatever kind of person I might be.
I'm thankful every day that she was truly mine.
I really miss her but I know our happy spirits still entwine.
We'll be together again, somewhere, sometime, away up high.
She's there waiting for me in that beautiful big garden in the sky.

Rainbows of crystal were hanging from everything for as far as the eye could see.
They were tucked away in my heart for always making them dazzling memories.
Silver frost was silently sleeping on every single bush and tiny twig.
Exquisite beyond belief, never before a paint job being so big.
The sky was sparkling clear with a sun busy kissing the frosted snow.
This was going on everywhere you'd look, even along the old fallen fence row.
If ever there were a picture of serenity, it was then there before me.
I'm wondering if ever again to be.

Summer breezes are drifting' softly down here and there on me,
Sweet and warm, tellin' of another place I ought to be.
Where there's gleamin' gold dancin' down through the trees,
And sweet music comin' from the honey bees.
Yes, summer breezes I'll always go with you.
How can I help it anyway it's what I want to do.
The fragrances you carry of the new mown hay,
Makes me remember the loves of past yesterdays.
Yet you come to me each summer anew,
Filling my life with magic because of the time I spent with you.

A hug is always waiting right here in open arms.
All you have to do is take it to keep you safe from harm.
Hugs are easily made, it hardly takes a thought.
I keep them very handy since they really can't be bought.

Sometimes a creative mind works like a spinning kaleidoscope.
Wondrous thoughts fall tumbling filled with precious hope,
Falling colors slip into ideas forming those unique shapes,
It's incredible with time the things that they can make.
Waste not a single moment trying to figure it all out.
For never can you know a spinning kaleidoscope is all about.

Oh misty morning you are settling softly down around my soul.
Thus causing me to travel beyond to a distant knoll.
Everyone needs a sanquine knoll of their own.
I have one I carry often as a little girl of a tender ten.
If at times I seem to be gone now you'll know where I have been.
It's a knoll where the sweet cherry tree gives up its love to me.
It's a lovely place for the mystery child that dwells in me to be.

I see the sunlight shinnin' down on me.
Sunlight, sunlight, what do you truly see?
Am I only part of what I should be?
Or am I really the best of me?

What was it that came with the wind? Life did. Gentle, sweet and fragrant. Oh, the tornadoes came too. But, happily, I spent most of my time with Summer's morning rustlings. Have you ever seen life in the wind? Seen those times when you just couldn't figure out what was going on or what was going to happen next? That's right, when life was being tumbled all about in the wind. Can I help you to gain some wisdom from it all? Stop trying to figure life out. I did. It really helped a lot. Sometimes I make tornadoes, but I'd rather make gentle breezes that talk to the leaves. Maybe I'm really the wind that ripples the water or even makes it smooth as glass. Is love hugging you? Maybe it's really me.

Thank goodness I can travel back to where I have once been.
All I have to do is to be a whimsy little child once again.
Memories go along with me, making me exactly as I was then.
This causes me to remember my sister, Carol, who is such a special kin.
It feels so good to be a whimsy little child with a dreaming heart.
It stills the shadowy heartaches even before they have a chance to start.
Everyone needs the gentle comforting that a young heart can bring from within.
We should remember the whimsy little child, to set it free and to let it live again.

As Fall tumbles among the leaves, there's a quiet mystery of color unfolding
as she weaves.
Some brilliant leaves are left behind to dance in day's sunlight.
Others are left lingering for the moonlight of a misty night.
She mixes exquisite colors far beyond one's belief.
Then she silently steals away, quietly like a thief.
It's true, if you take some time to watch the unfolding colorful show,
You'll learn some things God wants you to know.
He's carefully worked this all out to your joyous delight.
Keep him in mind even though He seems out of sight.

Love lights a shining glow.
Where it travels no one knows.
But keep your eyes open very wide.
Then you can see the glowing light inside.
to love is to shine brightly within all the time.
You give me your love and I'll give you mine.

When the night winds gently talk to my lilac trees, they send their messages
drifting on to me.
I can read them as clearly as though I were reading by sunlight at noon.
It's because of the soft yellow and silver rays shinning down from the night time moon.
They send me messages of comfort that drift down deep into my heart.
I'll remember them forever giving my dawns a perfect start.
The wind using brushes filled with silver, paint the sky with fluffy little clouds.
Some drift for a moment between me and the night time moon. Making a picture
of which wind can be proud.
The silver spills every where from winds magic brushes.
Then when all is finished the wind gently silently hushes, hushes, hushes ....

I get up with the splendor and peace of early dawn.
We walk hand in hand as the day quietly moves on.
I carry within me all the fragrance of a soft morning rain.
Somehow no two days are the very same.
If we did not have the still velvety darkness of the night,
We could have the sparkling days that give us living light.
I never know which I love more because the days and nights are blended so well.
They fill me with a magic happiness by God's presence and gentle being,
I love all that is within and around me knowing what is there without really seeing.

A rainbow of colors comes dancing into life when autumn leaves began to play.
They swirl and twirl as they gayly go along their merry way.
How lucky they are with endless freedom in the wind to carry them all around.
They just love riding the magic wind sailing so high above the ground.
Hey, there, come on. Let's all of us go right along.
We can you know just by dreaming and hearing winds melodious song.
Just stop and listen for a moment then that special magic will carry us too.
Make sure a happy heart goes along to lead the way showing you what to do.
So, hey there, what do you really have to say?
Are you ready to go along to live to the fullest this very magic October day?

Long not for the past but wade slowly through the present into the future
                                                                        that's waiting there.
Just take it slow and easy letting life know that you really do care.
Relax, feeling the gentle waves softly moving about your very being.
Wondering and searching in the past will only take part of your being.
Leaving that part of you for now not seeing.
At this very moment gather the goodness, the joys and the wonder of life
                                                                        in close to you.
Enjoy to the very fullest all the abundance in all things knowing the
                                                                        pure magic they can do.
Settle down resting in today's contentments to bring the mellowing of
                                                                        the past into making a happier heart.
Take for today a knowing peace that has been given unto you playing it smart.
Pondering your dreams for the future will help life's waves carry you in
                                                                        the best direction.
Such wonders are waiting there beyond for only your very own detection.
So do it. Go drifting dreaming into the future not being afraid of the unknown.
Now life can be rich and full. All you have to do is make it your very own.

This is what the beautiful gray clouds told me. I thought the title, "The Waters of Life", was very fitting since there are so many rain drops in every cloud and every rain drop holds a mystery in and of itself. I find this to be very fascinating that different things in nature actually tell me things and I can then write them down and have them to share with you.

4:00 a.m. is all mine. 4:00 p.m. is all theirs.
At 4:00 a.m. I am given the sunrise with fragrant breezes touching softly down here and there on me. The birds are having a jam session. Then there's a haunting morning stillness too. You can "hear" the stillness, if it's early enough, which is just before dawn.
I gladly give our noisy neighbors 4:00 p.m. They get to enjoy all the traffic noise, kid noise, airplane thunder, saws, axes, platoons of barking dogs, sirens, whistles, cycles and slamming doors. No wonder they slam doors! Doors of all kinds. This is the first place I have ever lived and not known a single neighbor.

Sometimes love plays a perplexing game.
It never treats any two hearts the same.
Often times it's evasive and very hard to find.
Yet it can forever cause two hearts to become entwined.

Yes, I've been there down those country roads, quietly winding on their way
to find peace.
I travel ever so slowly watching each turn looking for those white meandering geese.
Yes, I've been there down those country roads wanting my heart to fill.
Moving on. Moving on. wondering what promise lies just beyond those next hills.
Shadows, shadows are following me as the sun falls quietly to sleep.
I'm collecting memories forever to keep.
What kind of country roads have you been travelling as the time slips by?
Have you saved any memories to savor the same as I?

Have you ever known the haunting fragrance of an old rose jar?
Potpourri with such an intoxicating aroma you no longer know just who you are.
Did you see the concoction of spices and rose petals still fading there.
Who's loving hands did mix it for you with such special care?
They added lots of love as it never fades away.
Just add some of your own sweet joy too and it will forever stay.

Misty moonlight you are shinning down on me.
You make me feel a little like a changing mystery.
You make me feel once again sweet sixteen inside.
Memories of a sweetheart lingers beside me.
There's no need for us to hide. Misty moonlight shinning down softly on me.
What is this unknown mystery that lingers and you can see?
How is it that you can shine down on this heart of mine and make it seem as
thought there's been no passing of time?
I know there's mysteries in my heart I do not understand, but,
Misty moonlight because of you, sometimes to my surprise, I really can.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever amount to anything.
I'm all the things I've ever lived and perhaps a song I have yet to sing.
When I should be doing the dishes I'm off playing with tiny friends
                                                                whoever they may be.
Smiling violas, roses and all the wee folks I see.
Everything I should be doing I'm not. I wonder if I ever will?
But I love a secret fragrance within me and a feeling of being very still.
I do a lot of day dreaming. There's just no explanation for a dreaming
                                                                heart like mine.
I keep our house in order. Anyway, it's in order to me at times.
Those who come to visit is find hearts filled with many joys.
I just can't pass up a busy robin splashing in a morning bath.
Besides he's takin' it in my flower garden path.
Perhaps I don't spend my time as wisely as I should.
But I love watchin' chipmunks dancin' on the piled wood.
Then there's that special day when Happy Holli came to visit us.
Stop and taking time to spend with her was always an absolute must.
While rocking her she munched happily on her potato chips.
She looked up at me and said, "you have a lovely home."
Then licked her smiling lips.
There, you see, I must be doing something right every now and then.
How else would I know this peaceful contentment comin' from such a
                                                                darlin' little kin.

Did you ever notice how soft pillows and blankies snuggle up to gently hug what they hold?
Nestled there among them is love itself and this we needn't be told.
How can babies help but slowly give up their waking world as eyelids slowly fall?
What joy to gaze at this lofty sight as we love them dearly one and all.

Fifty years lies sleeping ever so softly within.
The they gently caress us to reawaken once again.
They always start the tender twigs to begin together to begin their unfolding anew.
This is what hearts that have been together so long very often do.
These many years we have slumbered together comforting one another since then.
Now our love lives forever from the many places it's been.
We shall dream on into the coming future as we have dreamed into the fading past.
No greater love can be given than the kind of love we have, one that lasts.

The last hollyhock of summer's work stock is still shining at the tip top of it's eight foot stem.
The green pockets still remain holding their precious contents from where the hollyhocks have been.
I've been sipping its deep purple in as though it were a deliciously flavored wine.
It was given to me by a far distant stranger I'm sure I would never be able to find.
I wish they could know my joy of watching the hollyhock's fluffy skirts slowly unfold.
It's telling of a special magic story, never before now having been told.
For it was but a tiny slender six inch root when first I layed it into my hand.
Then this spring I found myself wondering as I gently tucked it into the flower garden sand.
God bless this stranger who chose so wisely when deciding a gift for me.
What a joy it is to have such a friend that's just a stranger I shall never see.

Merry Christmas to all of you that we love.
Remember that all love comes drifting down from above.
All of loves joys are always and forever with you.
When you are feeling sadness remember this whatever you do.
Look to the stars in the eyes of those you love.
You shall find comfort and peace carried there by the Christmas Doves.

Have you ever seen the golden moonlight glowing through the trees?
Have you ever seen the gold dancing in the leaves?
If you have, take the time for a closer look.
What will you see in that mossy golden nook?
It's something you really shouldn't ever miss.
Everything's waiting there with its golden kiss.
Do you really want me to tell you what's waiting there for you to see?
Well, there's a darling bubbling stream making music like they always do for me.
And a gathering of happy tiny elves merry making morning dew.
They are getting it ready for the rainbows they put in the cobwebs woven along the fence.
I always wondered how they got there and now that I know, I haven't been the same since.

When love plays its sweet secret games, it's hard to follow rules.
A gentle touch, a soft kiss can make us forget and then we become love's fools.
Down and down deeper we go, but being children how are we to know?
Who can ever see the secrets our hearts always hold.
Sweet secret love touches all.
The very young and the very old.
So if we must play loves sweet secret games, we better be sure and follow the rules.
Because if we don't, we'll always become one of love's fools.
We should remember to let love bloom in the warm sunshine.
Then we'll never again let loves sweet secret games make any of us blind.

From this moment on and forever, I want you to know and remember there's a beautiful river that runs deep within our spirit. You and all your loves are only riding on the waves. Now it's time for you to take them drifting down deep into the currents. Let all the spirits go, melting them into one and gently let them flow into that place where love has really begun.

When evening light slowly softens down you can hear those magic heart sounds.
Listen with care, feeling them ever so slowly beating there, filling you with wonder and the haunting unknown.
Taking you away from the hurting of being alone. Let their rhythms carry you off into your dreams.
Comforting love enfolds you. Oh how warm and sweet it all seems.
Just let yourself go riding rhythms with the wings.
Now you too can know what all those magic heart sounds mean.

Sittin' in the picture window watching the big show.
It's so enchanting to watch the diamonds dancing on the snow.
Big white feathers floating all around.
Each one looking to land softly on the ground.
They never know the scenes they create.
Some fall early. Some fall late.
All together making that spectacular lacey show.
There's something special to see, I know.
I'm drifting off captured in snow's white lace.
What sweet white magic there is in snow's enchanted place.

A New Age: The Centipede Network Of Artists, Poets, & Writers
An Informational Journey Into A Creative Echonet [9310]
(C) CopyRight "I Write, Therefore, I Develop" By Paul Lauda

Come one, come all! Welcome to Newsgroup alt.centipede. Established just for writers, poets, artists, and anyone who is creative. A place for anyone to participate in, to share their poems, and learn from all. A place to share *your* dreams, and philosophies. Even a chance to be published in a magazine.

The original Centipede Network was created on May 16, 1993. Created because there were no other networks dedicated to such an audience, and with the help of Klaus Gerken, Centipede soon started to grow, and become active on many world-wide Bulletin Board Systems.

We consider Centipede to be a Public Network; however, its a specialized network, dealing with any type of creative thinking. Therefore, that makes us something quite exotic, since most nets are very general and have various topics, not of interest to a writer--which is where Centipede steps in! No more fuss. A writer can now access, without phasing out any more conferences, since the whole net pertains to the writer's interests. This means
that Centipede has all the active topics that any creative user seeks. And if we don't, then one shall be created.

Feel free to drop by and take a look at newsgroups alt.centipede and alt.ygdrasil to keep up with us.

Ygdrasil is committed to making literature available, and uses the Internet as the main distribution channel. On the Net you can find all of Ygdrasil including the magazines and collections. You can find Ygdrasil on the Internet at:

    * WEB: http://www.synapse.net/~kgerken/

    * FTP: ftp://ftp.synapse.net/~kgerken/

    * USENET: releases announced in rec.arts.poems, alt.zines,
              alt.centipede and alt.ygdrasil newsgroups.

    * EMAIL: send email to kgerken@synapse.net and tell us what version
         and method you'd like. We have two versions, an uncompressed
         7-bit universal ASCII and an 8-bit MS-DOS lineart-enchanced
         version. These can be sent plaintext, uuencoded, or as a
         MIME-attachment.

. REMEMBERY: EPYLLION IN ANAMNESIS (1996), poems by Michael R. Collings

. DYNASTY (1968), Poems by Klaus J. Gerken
. THE WIZARD EXPLODED SONGBOOK (1969), songs by KJ Gerken
. STREETS (1971), Poems by Klaus J. Gerken
. BLOODLETTING (1972) poems by Klaus J. Gerken
. ACTS (1972) a novel by Klaus J. Gerken
. RITES (1974), a novel by Klaus J. Gerken
. FULL BLACK Q (1975), a poem by KJ Gerken
. ONE NEW FLASH OF LIGHT (1976), a play by KJ Gerken
. THE BLACKED-OUT MIRROR (1979), a poem by Klaus J. Gerken
. JOURNEY (1981), a poem by Klaus J. Gerken
. LADIES (1983), a poem by Klaus J. Gerken
. FRAGMENTS OF A BRIEF ENCOUNTER (1984), poems by KJ Gerken
. THE BREAKING OF DESIRE (1986), poems by KJ Gerken
. FURTHER SONGS (1986), songs by KJ Gerken
. POEMS OF DESTRUCTION (1988), poems by KJ Gerken
. THE AFFLICTED (1991), a poem by KJ Gerken
. DIAMOND DOGS (1992), poems by KJ Gerken
. KILLING FIELD (1992), a poem by KJ Gerken
. BARDO (1994-1995), a poem by Klaus J. Gerken
. FURTHER EVIDENCES (1995-1996) Poems by Klaus J. Gerken
. CALIBAN'S ESCAPE AND OTHER POEMS (1996), by Klaus J. Gerken
. CALIBAN'S DREAM (1996-1997), a poem by Klaus J. Gerken
. THE LAST OLD MAN (1997), a novel by Klaus J. Gerken
. WILL I EVER REMEMBER YOU? (1997), poems by Klaus J. Gerken
. SONGS FOR THE LEGION (1998), song-poems by Klaus J. Gerken
. REALITY OR DREAM? (1998), poems by Klaus J. Gerken
. APRIL VIOLATIONS (1998), poems by Klaus J. Gerken
. POEMS TO A GOD WITH SWOLLEN FEET (1998), Poems by Klaus J. Gerken

. SHACKLED TO THE STONE, by Albrecht Haushofer - translated by JR Wesdorp

. MZ-DMZ (1988), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
. DARK SIDE (1991), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
. STEEL REIGNS & STILL RAINS (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
. BLATANT VANITY (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
. ALIENATION OF AFFECTION (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
. LIVING LIFE AT FACE VALUE (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
. HATRED BLURRED (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
. CHOKING ON THE ASHES OF A RUNAWAY (1993), ramblings by I. Koshevoy
. BORROWED FEELINGS BUYING TIME (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
. HARD ACT TO SWALLOW (1994), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
. HALL OF MIRRORS (1994), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
. ARTIFICIAL BUOYANCY (1994), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy

. THE POETRY OF PEDRO SENA, poems by Pedro Sena
. THE FILM REVIEWS, by Pedro Sena
. THE SHORT STORIES, by Pedro Sena
. INCANTATIONS, by Pedro Sena

. POEMS (1970), poems by Franz Zorn

All books are on disk and cost $10.00 each. Checks should be made out to the respective authors and orders will be forwarded by Ygdrasil Press.

YGDRASIL MAGAZINE may also be ordered from the same address: $5.00 an issue to cover disk and mailing costs, also specify computer type (IBM or Mac), as well as disk size and density. Allow 2 weeks for delivery.

Note that YGDRASIL MAGAZINE is free when downloaded from Ygdrasil's World-Wide Web site at http://www.synapse.net/~kgerken.

All poems copyrighted by their respective authors. Any reproduction of these poems, without the express written permission of the authors, is prohibited.

YGDRASIL: A Journal of the Poetic Arts - Copyright (c) 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 1997 & 1998 by Klaus J. Gerken.

The official version of this magazine is available on Ygdrasil's World-Wide Web site http://www.synapse.net/~kgerken. No other version shall be deemed "authorized" unless downloaded from there. Distribution is allowed and encouraged as long as the issue is unchanged.

All checks should be made out to: YGDRASIL PRESS

COMMENTS

    * Klaus Gerken, Chief Editor - for general messages and ASCII text
    submissions. Use Klaus' address for commentary on Ygdrasil and its
    contents: kgerken@synapse.net

    * Pedro Sena, Production Editor - for submissions of anything
    that's not plain ASCII text (ie. archives, GIFs, wordprocessored
    files, etc) in any standard DOS, Mac or Unix format, commentary on
    Ygdrasil's format, distribution, usability and access:
    art@accces.com

    We'd love to hear from you!

    Or mailed with a self addressed stamped envelope, to:

May 1999

Special Edition Editor: Pedro Sena
Editor: Klaus J. Gerken
Production Editor: Pedro Sena
European Editor: Moshe Benarroch
Contributing Editors: Martin Zurla & Rita Stilli, Milan Georges Djordjevitch

ISSN 1480-6401

A New Age: The Centipede Network Of Artists, Poets, & Writers
An Informational Journey Into A Creative Echonet [9310]
(C) CopyRight "I Write, Therefore, I Develop" By Paul Lauda

May 1999

Special Edition Editor: Pedro Sena Editor: Klaus J. Gerken Production Editor: Pedro Sena European Editor: Moshe Benarroch Contributing Editors: Martin Zurla & Rita Stilli, Milan Georges Djordjevitch

ISSN 1480-6401

A New Age: The Centipede Network Of Artists, Poets, & Writers An Informational Journey Into A Creative Echonet [9310] (C) CopyRight "I Write, Therefore, I Develop" By Paul Lauda

Special Edition Editor: Pedro Sena
Editor: Klaus J. Gerken
Production Editor: Pedro Sena
European Editor: Moshe Benarroch
Contributing Editors: Martin Zurla & Rita Stilli, Milan Georges Djordjevitch

A New Age: The Centipede Network Of Artists, Poets, & Writers
An Informational Journey Into A Creative Echonet [9310]
(C) CopyRight "I Write, Therefore, I Develop" By Paul Lauda