Sage Rising

Sage Rising

By Michele Habel-Coffey


They will inherit the Homes

And The Farm

They will inherit jewels

And the wealth of generations,

Of Miners,

And Marauders,

Of Rosie’s rivets

And Cleopatra’s flight,

Of a Lion,

And a Lamb,

And the Artist’s left hand,

But dollars do not

Make a good cloth for washing

And love’s apple

Tastes better than apathy’s bible

Just so.

I am but a reflection of their light.

I am a smokey sage

carrying prayers to the Heavens

Bartering that for them,

Darkness be never more

than a canvas for the stars.


Prismatic: By Michele Habel-Coffey



By: Michele Habel-Coffey

Transparent glass with angles

Pointed, dense and clear

Traditional triangles

Sometimes used as mirrors

Reflecting what’s internal

No colors bursting through

Just an image of yourself

Starring back at you

This requires angles

Of the steepest kind

The narrowest of options

For the narrowest of minds

Who only want to see themselves

Reflected in the glass

Instead of all the colors

That at better angles pass

Through the surface of the prism

Refractions of the light

Dispersions of the varied waves

Rainbows, spectrums, sight

There’s beauty in the colors

Much more than just plain white

But one must meet the other

At an angle that’s just right

To produce the dancing rainbow

For all the world to see

Takes more than just a piece of glass

Or varied energies

Conversations of the past

Call to mind a prism

Geometric and triangular

Common colloquialism

But rainbows don’t just come

From the shapes of yesterdays

It all about the angles

Dispersing light, refracting waves

Even tears can make a rainbow

As they’re falling to the ground

Pain calling forth a beauty

Without a single sound

I prefer refractions

And dancing colored rays

To self-absorbed amusement

Reflections showing age

Remember ole’ Narcissis?

Poor fool, you know he drowned?

In a shallow pool reflecting

The image of a clown

So if you want to see a rainbow

Stop gazing in the mirrors

At the hardest, steepest angles

As rigid as your fears

Bend a little, my dear friend

I promise you won’t break

But instead might see a rainbow

Put down the mirror, for Heaven’s sake!

The Witch Doctor



And so he extracted his pound of flesh
Exacting his incisions
With the tender care
Of a learned man
Motions so expertly recited
I daresay I felt nothing
save for the pressure of his hand
Upon my wound
And the floating dream
Of the temporary drug
Expanding my lungs
Coursing through my veins
A barrier between reality and pain
Leaving me
With fluttering eyelids
Butterflies in a colored fog
And the disquietude of an invasion
The remnants of which are
A barely discernible scar
Upon the site of excavation
A necessary exchange
An empty chasm
Where once was disease
And a debt to the witch doctor
That can never be repaid

Linda Pastan: Eyes Only

Dear lost sharer
of silences,
I would send a letter
the way the tree sends messages
in leaves,
or the sky in exclamations
of pure cloud.


Therefore I write
in this blue
ink, color
of secret veins
and arteries.
It is morning here.
Already the postman walks


the innocent streets,
dangerous as Aeolus
with his bag of winds,
or Hermes, the messenger,
god of sleep and dreams
who traces my image
upon this stamp.


In public buildings
letters are weighed
and sorted like meat;
in railway stations
huge sacks of mail
are hidden like robbers’ booty
behind freight-car doors.


And in another city
the conjurer
will hold a fan of letters
before your outstretched hand—
“Pick any card. . . “
You must tear the envelope
as you would tear bread.


Only then dark rivers
of ink will thaw
and flow
under all the bridges
we have failed
to build
between us.

Powerful and Amazing Video: Ancient Tuvan Song “Boodey” (Sonnel) arranged in modern ambient style

Incredible, pulsating, alive. Indulge, imbibe, ingest the imagery.


Ancient Tuvan Song “Boodey” (Sonnel) arranged in modern ambient style. Performed by Radik Tyulyush, famous tuvan singer, soloist Huun-Huur-Tu Group. Composed and arranged by Mapa (Alexey Ivanov), russian ethno-ambient composer, known for his work in the “Ivan Kupala” group. Video edited by Mapa from movie “Home” – director Yann Arthus-Bertrand.

View original post

A Graceful Blue

The following poem is the result of my impressionistic thoughts of my experience with autism, my daughter Grace who has autism, and the tradition of “Lighting It Up Blue” around the world for Autism Awareness Month (April).  The images immediately below are from  “Light It Up Blue” events worldwide.  Soon Will Come the Light is a short book written by a gifted man, Thomas McKean, who happens to have autism.  I had the privilege of hearing him speak years ago and was left forever impressed by his words and his poignant articulation of his life as it is affected by autism, both positively and negatively.  Thank you for reading.Image


A Graceful Blue

By Michele Habel-Coffey


Black and Blue against the night

Blue haze

Pale moon

Soon Will Come the Light





In every place

I try

To hide away

Wide open spaces

Lost social graces

My Grace

Her little face


Black and Blue against the night

Blue lights

My Little Hero

How she fights

Black and Blue