Tricia Poetry

Bowing In Unison

Art by Elliott Aaron From

We are trees, grounded, lifted, nourished in some seasons, shedding in others. We all dance in the winds of our beginnings, hoping to be rooted deeply enough to stand tall, endure the chaotic winds that bully us, and harsh storms that attempt to break us. 
We sink into the clay of our ancestry while reaching towards the divine light of individuation. 
We reach out in the heat of summer, endure the harsh winters to flourish again and again, and yet again, steeping in the sun, our tough exteriors penetrated. We bend to the challenges, shedding limbs of no purpose, sometimes violently, while allowing branches of meaning to strengthen and bloom. None of us is like another, each displaying its own hues, textures, shape of leaves and fullness of integrity. Swaying in the winds of change, collective are our wishes to return one day to wherever-- maybe to a place of understanding of why we landed in the soil we did, why we blossomed with those colors at that time, why we stood tall when others had fallen. 
We are all trees breathing, stretching, bowing in unison to the mother that receives us, the father that calls us. As our lush leaves flutter, dancing in the Earthly winds we hold hope that one day we will know for certain-- why we have been. 


Tricia Schwaba onset of 2024

Peacefulness Bound

We need your voice quit hiding in the closet

Your creative streak mines a valuable deposit

In the coffers of the Earth and the great human spirit

Can you feel it? Smell it? Taste it? Can you hear it?

The days of self doubt and tamping down are through

You are needed to help the collective pull through

The sludge of this patriarchal nightmare breaks down

Revealing an equity— we’re peacefulness-bound

Bring out your voice, your words, your kindness

Your spontaneous true heart— let yourself find this

The energy that keeps us all afloat 

Must come from dispelling the fears by rote

Say what you feel, dive into that pool

Free to tell the tale, be daring, be cool

The only way to uncover this prosperous bliss

Is to speak out in tumultuous times like this.

Tricia Schwaba 2020

 
 

Calling All Prophets

Buddha, Shakti, Shiva, Jesus
Prana, Allah, & Blessed High Priestess
The garbage rises, too much to compost
The misled are leading, the masses milquetoast
Please answer the call if you hover above
Remind the haters it’s all about love
If a second coming can ever occur
Could you make it soon, don’t deter?
We need a shift, enlightenment please
If you think it will help I will fall to my knees
I’ll offer my prayer for peace to reign
Or at least reincarnation to a higher plane.

Tricia Schwaba, 2019


buddha of gold.jpg

The Edge of Too Late, (Poetry)

I sit here balancing on the edge of too late
My face is cracking at an alarming rate
My long held passions are beginning to crumble
And my physical body is threatening to stumble
When did the days start passing in a flurry
And when did the print begin looking so blurry?
With time’s eminent passing I am losing my mojo
And simply can’t view another Kardashian photo.
That slimy, ego-based quest for perfection
Is causing me to do some earnest reflection,
Is slicing and stretching my skin real tight
Going to break my angst, help me sleep through the night?
Society’s answer for staving of aging
Is to battle the war that gravity is waging
The ass that was once nice & high, even firm
Is despite all my yoga beginning to squirm.
In spite of my fear I know there’s still time
To ratchet up my passion, get my ducks in a line.
I’ll write that book, I’ll climb that mountain
I’ll drink in the love & dance in the fountain.
Or at least I will savor this day that is here
Conquer hesitations and face down my fear
And know that the point is to love and be loved
And when given the chance, thank the stars up above.

Tricia Schwaba, 2019