Kevin Shuey - Poetry Readings 2006-2007

              These Gifts

To see some truth in a stranger's eyes

I feel his mind, but I can't speak it.

The green light from April leaves

That soothes my thoughts, but cannot be translated

The easy, slinking, wariness of the feral cat.

The gypsy dance of the wind in the birch

The echo of the mourning dove

from the white-washed wall of the church on the hill.

These gifts are the hoarded treasure

in this dragon's cave.

When I fly at night, I am searching for the tale-teller

who will sing my trinkets to the world

But I fear his voice will be cold and weak.

And so I fear the cave will fill 'till it's choked...

But the sweet gifts just melt into my mountainous heart.

I gaze at the clouds and valleys,

At the cypress and the sea

And listen

In the hope that someday what I hear

Will not be me

But just an empty boat, adrift

On still water.

Kevin A. Shuey

       We Shall See

There is no place, perhaps

Where you and I

Can both see love the same

But then, the light and shadows

Play their differenct games

Across the garden

Yet share their father sun

And when the moon

Ducks now beneath a cloud....

Or is seen through the upstairs window

Rather than with branches laced

As in the quiet yard

It's safe to say

There is but one soft silvery orb.

Kevin A. Shuey

          We Dance

We dance in unbridled joy

     Then try to draw the steps

     Upon the floor

     Pointing with zeal

     At painted feet on stone

     We extol the virtue of such steps

But where is the joy?

From whence has it come?

While walking on a certain road

The light of perfect love

Dawns in our heart.

     We note the spot, the day, the time

     And of that place would make a shrine

Does His love shine on this road only?

When the light, the order, the clarity...

When the joy of Truth shines forth

     We cling to the shadows it casts.

Listen to Rumi.

His new rule is:

"Break the wine glass, and fall toward the glassblower's breath."

Kevin A. Shuey