Tag: poems

Soul Sunday

I adore Sunday mornings. I’m starting to think that they are almost as good as Fridays, and I LOVE Fridays. Play around with poetry today. Read it, write it, live it. Poetry allows us to read and to write secret messages to ourselves. It helps us to unravel the mysteries of life, as noticed particularly and uniquely by us. Poetry is powerful. My poem for today is below one of the many definitions of poetry, found in the dictionary.

“Felt Ear”

Why have we given contented a bad name?

A soft felt ear of a dog, lying and folding so delicately

in my hand, as I peer out into the sunlit stillness,

noticing no sudden movements nor longing to be anything

or anywhere but here. When we forget to be content,

we miss all of the beauty which we are building on,

and sometimes carelessly tearing down.

Every virtue has its shadow. Desire expands, as passion pulls

us outward but contentedness gives us the centering

to pull back in to what matters most. A soft felt ear . . .

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

Good morning. Welcome to poetry day on the blog. On Wednesday, we have a Blue Moon. It’s not actually blue, it’s just the name for the rare occurence of two full moons in one month. The second full moon in any one month is called a blue moon. Make a wish, and put it into poem form today. Once in a blue moon, wishes do come true, in the most magical of ways. Here is my poem for today:

The Sunday stillness feeds my soul,

The quiet sunlit room hears only an occasional

sigh from a tired, warm, rug of a dog, bathing in the light.

The plants outside of the window slightly sway,

to the gentle rhythm of an imperceptible breeze,

it all creates the peaceful symphony of tranquility,

that I soak in: pure, satiating nourishment for my spirit.

I hear my soul chanting: All is well. All is well. All is well.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

Good morning, friends. I’ve experienced a lovely weekend. I hope that you have, too. Today, I decided to stop slacking, and I finally wrote my own poem for today. (Write a poem today. If I can do it, you can do it. Trust me. I consider poems to be messages in a bottle sent from the deepest recesses of your heart, up to your head to be translated, with understanding and resonation.) Baudelaire once wrote, “Always be a poet, even in prose.” Here is my poem for today:

Light breezes, finding the perfect seashell,

puppies, babies, foreign lands, spicy food,

the joys and angsts of raising children,

flowers, books, singing robustly when driving my car,

laughing, playing, loving with intimate vigor,

sunny, clear days, and calm, fire-lit starry nights,

As I ponder of what trinket of beauty to write a poem about,

I ask myself,

If I were to be thrown into a small, dark, dank prison with iron chains,

Or I found myself tied to a lonely hospital bed for the rest of my days,

would have I let myself experience enough life and unbridled emotion,

from my vital, gifted, assumed days of freedom and health,

to fill those lonely, lost days with poems of lush and vivid memories?

Am I living the poetry in my heart that is begging to flourish right now?

There is nothing sadder than a heart without poems.

Living life is what beats a heart.

Poetry flows from the beat.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

I’m delayed in writing because my husband and I got up early to do some touch up painting on our house before the blazing summer sun took over with a punishing stranglehold. It’s been one of those weekends of tackling those “instant gratification” chores – painting, weeding . . . It stinks when you are doing it, but the results are so uplifting. I keep telling my husband, as we are knocking these things off of our list, “Well, now we’re hurricane ready.” He keeps admonishing me to stop calling a hurricane in.

I’ve been lazy with my poem writing lately. I hope that you have done better with it than me. I miss it. Poetry really is the heart’s first language. Here is a good poem that I found for today:

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

This is how Joseph Fasano, poet who wrote the poem below, describes poetry:

Joseph Fasano gets to the heart of it here. The reason why so many of us avoid reading or writing poetry is because it is vulnerable. It is emotional. It is truthful. It lays things bare. When I come to the blog on Sundays (a day that I have devoted to poetry), I often think to myself, do I have it in me to write about what I am really feeling? Can my mind translate my heart today? Many times I just don’t want to “go there.” So I put an oven mitt over my heart, and I look for someone else’s poem to publish.

“Why speak of the use
of poetry? Poetry
is what uses us.” – Hayden Carruth

Is it possible that poetry is just the soul translated? Poetry is the noble attempt to put into words that which can never fully be explained. Poetry is our soul trying to speak to us about what really “speaks to us.” Write a poem today, using this prompt: “I am the translator. Soul, what are you trying to tell me?” Perhaps use your non-dominant hand to write your poem. I imagine that your inner poet has more to say to you, than you think.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

“Love is the poetry of the senses.” ~ Honoré de Balzac

Welcome to poetry day on the blog. I’m still playing around with poetry. It’s not my “first language” in writing, but I find it interesting. I find it to be a worthwhile pursuit, and good use of my time and of my mindspace. Every Sunday, I suggest that you, my readers, write a little poem or two of your own. If you think that you “can’t” write a poem, look what a teacher on Twitter (shared by Joseph Fasano) got from one of her young students when given a poetry prompt (what a beautiful poem!):

And here is my own poem for today:

“A Moment in July”

I wanted the slow down.

I wanted the unending exhale.

And the Universe answered,

With a pressing heat,

that makes moving through air,

feel like moving through sludge.

“Learn to sit still,” she whispered,

As my skin felt like it was melting away,

And I had no choice but to become one,

with the steaming, still atmosphere around me.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

Welcome to poetry day on the blog. I hope that you will try to write yourself a poem today. It’s fun. It’s relaxing in the way that things which take total concentration are relaxing. Writing poetry focuses your wild, distractible, meandering mind. I wrote today’s poem in honor of Ralphie, our Labrador retriever, who has come down with Limp Tail Syndrome (it’s a thing – look it up). He’ll be alright. It’s similar to when we roll our ankles. Still, it is sad for us, to see him sad.

Limp Tail Syndrome

They say it comes from swimming too much,

It came from doing your greatest love.

It stole your wag. It stole your grin.

Your body can’t smile in your wiggly way

with the big wet soppy toy in your mouth.

It will pass. All things do. But now

Your body just grimaces and growls,

And your tail hangs limp.

You wear your emotions on your whole body,

Not just a sleeve. You don’t hide anything.

You are the embodiment of life, breath and love,

And joy and pain and listless agitation.

You are so fully you, always and ever.

Soon your sprightly tail will wag again.

Easy, light, high and fast and free and happy.

Your tail never hangs limp for long.

It’s not in your nature to be kept down.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

Good, serene morning to you. I’ve read about this poem in three different sources lately, so I took it as a sign to share it this Sunday, on the poetry day of the blog. Poems say so much more than what is on the page. This poem speaks of long lasting mature love. Wendell Berry captures it beautifully and succinctly in the poem below. (Write your own poem today and capture a little bit of the essence of your own soul. I assure you that you will be astonished by your soul’s beauty and clarity.)

The Blue Robe
By Wendell Berry

How joyful to be together, alone
as when we first were joined
in our little house by the river
long ago, except that now we know

each other, as we did not then;
and now instead of two stories fumbling
to meet, we belong to one story
that the two, joining, made. And now

we touch each other with the tenderness
of mortals, who know themselves:
how joyful to feel the heart quake

at the sight of a grandmother,
old friend in the morning light,
beautiful in her blue robe!

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

Good morning. Happy Sunday. Happy Poetry on the Blog Day. We were up until the wee hours last night reminiscing with dear, old friends with whom we reunited with yesterday. Unfortunately my mind is too foggy for poetry making, and I have to get ready for brunch.

Life itself is a good epic poem, going along to the beats and the cadences of our own individual rhythms. Write some poetry today, or live some poetry today. The dictionary says that “poetic” means having a dramatic, sensitive, emotional way of expressing oneself. Live fully. Live poetically.

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

Good morning. Welcome to poetry day on the blog. I saw this poem posted on a Twitter account earlier this week and I took a picture of it because I knew that I wanted to share it here, on the blog this Sunday. I love the irony and the cleverness of the poem. I hope that the daylight saving time isn’t messing with you too much today. At some time, write a poem today. You won’t regret it. (You can start at noon and save a lot of time. 😉 )

Why Did It 

by William J. Harris

Why did it

take all

day

to get nothing

accomplished

Why, I could

have started

at noon

& saved a lot

of time

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.