Talkeetna performance poet Ellen Thea
reads her poems Shawoman, Big Mama, and Blue Moon Turtle.
She is accompanied by Dennis Ransy on percussion.
In the fullness of the moon,
in the fullness of her moon,
power whisper
not a word
or hair may catch fire
and burn.
Balance dance
web edges.
Remember.
Unknown secrets long sleeping.
Comb dewstar hair,
glistening.
Illuminate darkness.
Become iridescent flames.
Shawoman, by Ellen Thea
————————————————–
Big Mama, by Ellen Thea
She do shake, rattle and roll.
She sing the blues, the browns, the greens, the reds,
the spectacular oranges and pinks.
She be so pretty.
When Big Mama laugh,
the nectar roll between her legs.
Her womb be gentle like the ocean.
Her passion be wild like the storm.
Her anger be purple like earthquake and volcano.
Her tears taste like rain.
I sit in her lap.
She be my Big Mama.
You sit in her lap.
She be your Big Mama.
She be whole world, Big Mama,
’cause her lap be big enough for us all.
———————————–
The Blue Moon Turtle Grandmother Speaks, by Ellen Thea
Once
in a blue moon,
out of the blue,
in truth, an unusual occurrence, yes.
Rarer, still more extraordinary
is the pink moon,
the blossoming lotus buddha moon
of the grandmother turtle,
summoned by the steady drum
of silvery waves, weaving,
laying her eggs,
journey seeds.
Once in a blue moon
the seven sisters’ radiance
sparkles and tones
a new heart temple,
fertility assured,
the quickening has begun.
