After the End: A Katuata w/Ragonelle Poem

With all of our highest dreams doused by flames of fire
We hide in our manmade caves
Where we live apocalyptic lives of satire
Into radiation graves

And God is weeping
In heaven’s vigil keeping…
Is Satan never sleeping?

Too long we looked away, blinded by arrogance
And destroyed Gaia, our home
To secure such a poisonous inheritance
Written in our wicked tome

And God is weeping
In heaven’s vigil keeping…
Is Satan never sleeping?

We refused to heed the warnings of wiser minds
Feeding desires instead
Bringing this destruction upon all humankind
Turning earth into deathbeds

And God is weeping
In heaven’s vigil keeping…
Is Satan never sleeping?

Note: Here I have combined the katuata with the ragonelle form of poetry instead of the renga.

The Katuata, (片歌, or “side poem” or “half poem”) dates back to 8th century Japan where it is found in the Manyõshú (the oldest collection of Japanese poetry.) It is an emotive verse, is intuitive rather than logical, and at some point asks a sudden question or makes an emotional statement, then responds to it. This can be a stand alone, 3 line poem; however, it is often written as a side poem to the renga. Finally, the katuata usually has a 5/7/7 syllable count. This can also be reduced to a 5-7-5 syllable count if desired.

The ragonelle was invented by Adaline Reilly, and has a rhyming scheme of a b a b with a syllable count of 12/7/12/7. There are no requirements for specific meter.


One Simple Ray of Sunshine



One simple ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds,
Proudly and soundly focusing its power upon the earth,
Making the mountains its hearth ‘n giving birth to hope;
Aye! The whole world is in the scope of this solitary ray
That pays one hundredfold the breath of its tiny breadth;
And what can compare to the might of its bright light?
None and so soon to drive out all blight and every fright;
Yea, night turns to day with but one strand of sunshine
So fine and ever so piercing the clouds of gloom ‘n doom


Earth revolves around Sol, greater light to rule the day
And stay the powers of stark darkness in its own ways
With rays of brightness – happy song sung long on sea
And land by bands of people and all creatures living –
And how shall we describe him or ascribe him majesty
With glory, yet Sol is but an icon, very pure and simple,
Of the first and everlasting Light that shines brighter
And dispels thick black without a lack of magnificence,
So that Sol is but a child, young ‘n wild, by comparison

Your Cozy Little Eggshell

Not that I’m angry but you never seem to see
What is as obvious to me as a great big tree!
Temperatures are rising causing tidal waves
As oceans misbehave while you calmly claim
That it’s all the same without a bit of shame;
And you don’t seem to hear the cries of fear
From around the earth in all your jolly mirth,
And I ask you why ‘n try to talk but you balk;
Meanwhile masses starve and ruffians carve
Their weapons of terror ‘n it’s a bloody error
To be so blind and to bind your whole mind
Against all the world around you,
But you’re bound and determined
To be whatever it is you will to be
And see only what you want to see!
No, I’m not angry, only bound to be astounded
How you can live in such a cozy, little eggshell!
And I know hell will crack that shell one day . . .
Hell will crack your shell

Come Now, O Breath of Peace

Peoples around the world are bound by the sound of fury,
Shackled by deprivation, starvation, escalation of violence;
People hurt people, avert justice, and desert Lady Wisdom,
Overtly perverting, exerting themselves, inverting decency

O Come now, O Breath of Peace, come from above,
And bind up the broken heart and calm our fears;
Come near and blow through our world with love

Do we really want to mar the earth, this place of our birth?
Do we really want to compromise the worth of all creation?
Here today, but like flowers of the field we yield in the end,
And our place knows us no more and with nothing to show

O Come now, O Breath of Peace, come from above,
And bind up the broken heart and calm our fears;
Come near and blow through our world with love

Peoples around the world struggle to survive, even thrive,
Persistently walking the halls ‘n consistently hitting walls
Of resistance without any assistance even for subsistence;
Is this really how some want to live, with so much to give?

O Come now, O Breath of Peace, come from above,
And bind up the broken heart and calm our fears;
Come near and blow through our world with love

Blow thru each of us with loving peace from above!
Blow thru each of us with loving peace from above!

Peoples around the world are bound by the sound of fury,
And shackled by chains
And shackled by chains

O Come now, O Breath of Peace, come from above,
Blow thru each of us with loving peace from above!
Blow thru each of us with loving peace from above!

Erase, Retrace, Erase

Lay down.
Lay down your weapon on this block from once a building.
Lay down your weary head upon this rock from the rubble.

Lie down.
Lie down in this hell-hole of what once was somebody’s town.
Lie down under church-bell ‘ere in your own blood you drown.

Aye, this is where civilization once bloomed and blossomed.
Aye, this is where revolution spirit groomed you for death.

Ashes all around and the vultures cry.
Ashes call quiet, and the vultures die.

Oh, lay you down, now lay you down, now lay you down. . .
Why cry or laugh or frown; make this dirt your night gown
And crown yourself king of this stinking, devastated town.

Sleep this night of looming gloom away.
Sleep this night of fright in your way.

Let go.
Let go of war-torn haunts ever taunting your mind.
Let go of war-born guilt  that  your  soul  does bind.

Oh, not your fault, your fault, not your fault!
You were sold and bought and so you fought;
How else could it have been? You were caught.

And now sleep, sleep, sleep . . . where civilization once lay.

Father Dyēus Weeps

Dyēus stood and broke the silence, looking at the brood and spoke,
“You cannot remember primordial days and the ways I formed mortals
Of sea and land, dirt and sand; cannot remember my hand digging
In watery earth to birth you into life, no cord to cut with knife;
You cannot remember how I led you across the coastline and fed you.
You had no sense of my presence, and made no pretense to be more
Than you were, slipping in and out of brackish water, moving about
Upon the earth so timidly, no home or hearth; but then you learned
And burned with passion, moved across the land, led by my own hand,
And made your bed in valleys and mountains and plains; it was then
You learned pain ~ your dawn of awareness ~ and the yawning grave;
You became more than knaves; you saw me then for the first time
As the bells of heaven chimed. We walked and talked with one another,
Yet I was everywhere; you sensed this, praising me with incense
Even when you could not see me in one form, you knew I could be
In another one, from grass and trees to sun and moon, in biting
Of frost and in the monsoon, in the sky overhead and in the bed
Of flowers fair, in the air and water and wind that bends trees
And scatters their leaves, as the ocean heaves. Everywhere could
You see me and feel me, so when I appeared you would kneel to me.
Now look what has happened; look in polluted brook, ravished hills,
In melting ice caps and thrice cracked earth to extract its worth;
Here now you are plundering and killing my magnificent creation,
Willing me, Dyēus, to die rather than try to save your very own home!
Ah! What an horrible tome to write, no longer knowing wrong from right;
My children, my progeny in the cosmic homogeny, who no longer know. . .


Giving Way to Old Man Winter

Caelus is now hauntingly dark,
Stark clouds roil with rain
As Sol boils with jealous pain;
Trees strain against the wind,
And bend and bow their heads;
Flower beds ready themselves
For the coming blow, the show
Of storm crow of Tempestas;
Birds nestle down and squirrels
Scurry and chipmunks hurry
To their holes, sole homes
Of hopeful safety; there is
Nothing dainty here happening
. . . It’s Old Man Winter!

Healthy Living, Beautiful Blog

Okay, confession time!  I am not Vegan, and thus could not believe that “Luxury Gluten Free Vegan Sponge Cupcakes” could possibly be anything delicious to eat; quite the opposite, in fact. However, another blogger friend shared the link to “Luxury Gluten Free Vegan Sponge Cupcakes,” and I took a look. And then I had my wonderful sister, Angela, look and read, too. Well, to make a long story short, we both agreed that this treat is not only exceptionally nutritional, but looks quite beautiful and sounds inviting… My sister copied the recipe and we’ve decided that, yes, we’ll have a go at it!

So, I’d like to introduce you to Pines Lifestyle, and especially its creator-author, Eliza Pines. Have a look-see and I’m sure you’ll be pleased. This is certainly a well-crafted, warm and peaceful, uplifting and inspirational blog … good, wholesome, happy. And who of us does not need more light and enlightening, motivational goodness in our lives? Yes, and Eliza does not confine her blog to recipes!  I happily recommend reading her article on “The Art of Yoga.”  Again, this is an investment of time very worth making; let me know if you agree (or disagree.)

Posizione del Loto e chakra coloratiBlessings to one and all!

Jon N

Post Script:  Just as a note of interest, since I mentioned Eliza’s article on Yoga; the practice of Yoga arose from within the larger, approximately 5,000 year-old medical practice/system of ancient India, known as “Ayurveda.”  Ayurveda is quite probably the most ancient, holistic practice and/or art of medical treatment, providing “an integrated approach to preventing and treating illness through lifestyle interventions and natural therapies.” (Webster’s New World Medical Dictionary: Third Edition, 38)  Thankfully, the holistic Ayurvedic approach to healthcare and medical treatment is being more and more integrated and interwoven into the normal, contemporary Western health and medical care.



The Rape of Gaia & Wrath of God

Anahita came to me to mourn the rape of Mother Gaia, torn
Apart by her children under seeing Eye of God, whose wrath
Is kindled to bath of blood in vengeance of her innocence,
In defense of purity sublime; so she spoke of horrid crime.

Anahita of seas and waterways now polluted, spoke of disease
And days of drought to come, and not on some but all upon
This terrestrial ball… ‘You shall fall,’ said she in tears
Unleashed in trembling fear for our fate too late to change.

‘You have had your chance,’ sweet voice went on, ‘to dance
With Gaia while nature sings and brings you gifs so freely
And dearly, but…’ loud wailing then escaped open mouth
Now distorted, ‘you craved ill-gained gold and pained us all
… both great and small.’

‘Look up! Look up! Do you see your canopy ripping, dripping
With poison? Look round! Look round! Do you see waters brown
With profusion of pollution? Look down! Look down! In oceans
Far below, creatures frown while crown of life is shattered
… vivacity scattered.’


‘Listen! Listen! Heed the call anew of the holy Bartholomew!
Did he not say tis challenge for humanity, yet only sanity
To join together in care and preservation, for this is plain:
Humanity has plundered earth and torn asunder heavenly gift.’


Anahita bowed her beautiful head and said, ‘Instead of caring
For creation, you have infested and molested your kindred
And now God shall wipe from divine sight the blight of children
To heal plight of nature with laver of renewal; celestial favor.’

‘And what of you, child, so weak and mild?’ Anahita smiled sadly
And asked as she basked in stream of sunlight radiant; but madly
Pathetic man I am, I feel to the floor both to adore and to plead,
‘Have mercy! Have mercy! Have we no chance to change and enhance
In better ways our days of toil, to care for sky and sea and soil?’

Anahita nodded, then shook her head, took my hand and lead me forth
From lazy bed to cities of nations, and corporations, to associations
Of men dressed in best, with holes in their chest, where heart’s
Were missing with greed hissing; money-makers pissing away our future,
With not so much as a suture for inflicted cuts and ripped out guts.


‘Do you have an opportunity?’ Anahita asked and answered, ‘Yes, you do,
So soon as you rid yourselves of those who bid Gaia on auction block
And lock her away like whore for sale; no more! No more to ignore
Or give free reign to the wealthy insane in craving unhealthy gain
… impair these miscreants; repair creation!’

‘Clean the water, clean the air; share in food, be fair! Soothe the seas
And the bumble bees, and freeze exploitation of the earth that gives birth
To all that sustains what remains of life now so rife with suffering
And shame to the blame of those whose god is money and silvery honey…
Reparation will be your only salvation.’

So says Anahita of oceans fair, as she laid bare her soul to me so free;
But I wonder will the plunder continue because no one listens as the last
Fading flower glistens beneath tired sun, weeping stars and mournful moon,
Our fate so soon to meet without peep of concern, even as in lust we burn
For self-ease, ne’er on our knees to please Creatrix who would still lift
To care for gift freely given, to bless us to sweep clean our morbid mess?

Do we hear? Do we care? And can we bear the truth to begin this repair?