Shamanistic Poetry

Featuring the work of  David Sparenberg

(We thank Mr Sparenberg for graciously allowing us to include his work on our pages)

The Earth Folk
What if we
are lives like shadows
What if our emotions
are thin reflections
And behind our
pretentious humanity
the elemental spirits live

Passionate
Stronger, uncannily
more resolute
A primal honesty
at work in their
luminous intercourse

And they are bells
And we are ringing
moving on
more distant hills
forgetting
songs that their lips keep pliant

What if we are but
pale before their brighter
faces
And lacking in love
before the way they kiss
everything
and embrace all changes

Passionate
Sensitive, so
beautiful

And they are
immortal watchers
watching us
And we, the homo sapiens
are breaking
we are lonely
Copyright 2001 David Sparenberg

Dragon Seed
we raise up
we raise up over the world
the great cry
the wolf cry

the geese fly
into the sun
swans fly
out of the moon

we raise up
we raise up over the world
the great roar
lion's roar

the wings are beating
like a breathing storm
the dragon of our
dreams awakens

we raise up
we raise up over the world
the old longing
the beast of mystery

our forests
fill the skies
the earth grows wide
with rooting stars

and like red rain
or star-flakes falling
the dragon seed showers
our beating hearts
Copyright 2001

Down
I am hunting for the configuration
of first history
I am climbing
a ladder down
into another world

discover me
in the purple-gray
enshadowed
in my mystery deep

I am seeking
for the alloy, the elixir...
hunting over
the contours of pain, chasing
the primal herd
before a sweating wall
a haunted crevice, the
uterus of time

wide eyed, my animal
shivers in the cold and dark, huddles
beneath a holy tree, the cathedral
of gothic branches, stirring
the stars and rain:
teardrops there
of wounded fire

Is this
the leafy love of God?

in life's
stillness, at that threshold
a woman's shape
exudes the flesh of the earth
the forever
smells of seeds and soil

I have descended
to the realm
of the Mother, the Ave
Maria of trembling
origin
and plead, hungering, pleading
for her breast
like a long
lost child

recovering
in the purple-haze...
Copyright 2001 David Sparenberg

Twilights
The world is heavy
heavy
like a desert sunset
at the end
of a blistering day
when the sun
has fallen on the earth
with shameless lust
and heat
feasts on the flesh
of all living.

The world is light
light
like a jungle sunrise:
countless, awakening vapors
setting free
tropical birds, fragile
lotus perfume--
the delicate, delectable kisses
of lotus blossoms.

I am
as the world is:
two yet one.

When my dark
face turns away
from my light
face
when my light
face
turns away
from my dark
I am dangerous
death's companion.

When my two
faces interface
the higher self
and lower self
meet nakedly, fearlessly, and embrace
I am harmony.

I am peace.

Like two
reciprocal bowls
catching and pouring reality:
beginning... endlessly.

But where
in motion and vast illusion
is truth?  Wait!
I will tell you.

Between this
and that
is all I am.

I am like the world.

We are tattooed
with one another's
twilights.
Copyright 2001 David Sparenberg

Chant Over Turtle Island
Song
for the paths of freedom.
Song
for the keepers of earth.

The song
of the orca is rising.
The leap
of the salmon returns.
The song
of the orca is rising.
The leap
of the salmon returns.

On the land
big patterns of thunder"
a million
buffalo herd.
On the land
big patterns of thunder:
a million
buffalo herd.

The drums
of our hearts go flying
In the south
the dance of blue corn.
The drums
of our hearts go flying.
In the south
the dance of blue corn.

Song
for the paths of freedom.
Song
for the keepers of earth.
Copyright 2001 David Sparenberg

Native Senses
The expression
of the beautiful genius
opens like a wordless
rose
and clothes us
in the fumes
of paradise.
Somehow
when we are
listening to the wings
of crows and the
tender melodies
of elfin butterflies
we feel embraced
by the breath
of angels.
Beating
so softly, so
delicate-sweet that
velvet on a virgin's
skin
might touch us
with an offering.
Though
we are there, out
in that other place
the familiar cup
of a summer's rose
rises
from this ground
to kiss us
with the miracle
of its pouring passions.
And
we are downed
supine
into the common
haunting symbolism
of earth's
dense mystery.
Though
not a single
word has swollen
to the lips
like a cherry
freshly swollen
but the heavy
buzzing
of a working bee
lost
in the ecstasies
of pollen.
And
we are spellbound
and complete.
Like fruit.
Like garden.
Copyright 2001 David Sparenberg

Gypsy Music and some lines from Rilke
green music
like green gypsies
like angels'
budding touches
sweet violins
swirl around me
high pitched
circling laughter

warm
like earthwoman's
brown eyes
the brown earth
of bountiful, nurturing smiles
come
sunlight, daylight
make me happy
let art
be a bell of freedom
let passionate kisses
defeat
our unanswered questions
with smiling
flesh
of ripe desires
cast off
old shadows, sorrows
violins, violins
do not labor

left me rather
onto the strings of joy
into the wet spring
the moondance
summer, pied
flowerbeds of life
let
poetry be a bell
before we fade
into the blue
moods of autumn
and the gray
nuances of twilight

ah, music, cascade-moments
eyelids
of inviting glances
like green...  Nur
im Raum der Ruhmung darf die Klage
gehn, die Nymphe des geweinten Quells
Only
in the Realm of Praising
does Lament
venture...  nicht
trubt... untroubled
Copyright 2001 David Sparenberg

Southwest

For the sake of the bear
because of the bear
because of the might bear

for the sake of the wolf
because of the wolf
because of the traveling wolf pack

for the sake of the deer
because of the deer
because of the heart of the deer

for the sake of the jaguar
because of the jaguar
because of the jaguar's dance

for the sake of the bee
because of the bee
because of the helpful bee

for the sake of the moth
because of the moth
because of the light-dazzled moth

for the sake of the hawk
because of the hawk
because of the song of the hawk

I call upon the Spirit
I call upon the Wind
I call upon the knives
of flint
that ride within the Wind

flay this human skin
cut away
and let me merge once more
with the mothering forms

Woman
of the painted desert!
Now I see you
in your gown of
rainbow-perfume; your body one
with the body of the land.
If I embraced you,
would I embrace
the pulsations of the Earth's
anxious sorrows?
If  I hold you, lip
and thigh to mine,
will I taste the laughter
of Earth's sacred cycles,
feel the mystery
of your secret joy?

For the sake of the hummingbird
because of the hummingbird
because of the hummingbird heart

for the sake of coyote
because of coyote
because of the sun-hungry dog

for the sake of the serpent
because of the serpent
because of the serpent's skin

I call upon Spirit
I call upon Wind
I call to the fire-eyes
that watch in the Wind
burn away
this human face of trouble
that I might wear
the masks of ancient gods
and enter the round
Kachina dance

Woman
of the painted desert!
If I wet my throat
in the river of your rainbow
ho! will I know my place?
Copyright 2001 David Sparenberg