poems Archives - Page 8 of 11 - Adulting: Second- Half

Soul Sunday

Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. I thought of this poem yesterday, as I was pondering during a car ride, about just how few current and historical figures any of us know anything about. Currently, there are over 7.5 billion people in this world. How many of these people who you know, do you know by sight? And even if you know a sprinkling of public and “famous” people by sight, do your children know them? Do your parents? Will your great grandchildren recognize these “famous” people? Do people on the other side of our world know these “famous” people? Ego tricks us into believing that our individual selves are so incredibly important, and in a sense, we are extremely important to the people who love us, and who share experiences with us. Still, in the end, all that is left of any of us, that makes any kind of mark on our world’s history, are our shared and collective actions and inactions. We are just one tiny dot of energy that helps to create this One evolving experience called Life. Here is my poem:

The heart of the story is this,

The actions have all of the significance,

The actions are what creates the story of the world.

The people who do the actions are rather insignificant.

The actions have all of the significance.

The characters are interesting, but they are just the tools,

For making the actions to happen and to occur.

Actions create our history.

Love is an action.

We all create Love.

We are Love.

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

Soul Sunday

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

The other day, a few members of my family and I were crowded around my phone, looking for a particular photo from a particular trip. As we were scrolling through my pictures, it became evident to all of us that almost half of my photo roll contained screenshots of words, and quotes, and excerpts from books and short poems. We all laughed. It was one of those moments that you get a true screenshot of your own self, and what truly moves you and captures your attention. Today, use this day to discover yourself. Scroll through your picture roll. Be a sleuth. Look at the clues. Open the doors. Look at the patterns. Feel what feels right. Feel what feels wrong, and change it. Fall in love with yourself. Make a point to see what those who know the real you, and who love the real you, love about you, and then, decide to heartily agree with them.

Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Here is my poem for the day:

“I wonder”

I wonder what this day would look like,

if half of it wasn’t crying in lament about the past,

All of the old stories and questions rehashed and rehashed.

I wonder what this day would look like,

if half of it wasn’t spent in worry about the times ahead,

filled with concern, and a queasy stomach consumed with dread.

I wonder what this day would look like,

If I just take it as it comes,

Deeply feeling every moment’s hums,

Moment by moment. Here. Gone. Here. Gone.

I wonder.

Soul Sunday

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

Short Addiction & Recovery Poems - Digital Poet

Good morning. It feels like a particularly soulful, hopeful Sunday. My friend sent a video of the most adorable little bird creating a nest in her tree this morning. Nature is hope. Nature continues no matter what. Nature keeps doing its natural thing, oblivious to wars and politics and disasters. Nature is truly the physical manifestation of hope.

Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. I hope that you write a poem today. As Hemingway states, writing is clearing. Here is my poem for today:

I worked so hard on the raft.

I found directions to make it,

And guidelines on how to make the journey,

To get away. I made room for all of us.

And I begged you to come aboard.

But you obstinately refused.

You wanted to stay on the Isle of Anger and Pain.

And I wanted to leave,

You are outraged that I floated away,

And I am disappointed that you stayed.

And the distance between us now,

is full of turbulent waves,

and scary, dark unknown things,

swimming and circling below the surface.

I won’t go back, and you won’t start a raft.

And so, here we are, so far away.

Soul Sunday

Good morning. I hope that this morning finds you well. Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Poetry is freeing your heart and your soul through the getaway vehicle of words. Use your words. Write a poem today. Your heart and soul will thank you for the fresh air and the light of day.

Earlier this week, a friend shared this beautiful poem by the young and talented Australian poet, Erin Hanson. (Interesting fun fact, Erin is the person who penned: “What if I fall? Oh but my darling, What if you fly?“) Here is the poem my friend shared this week:

You're Not Defined By What You're Not - Mental Health @ Home

And I thought that this was another excellent poem by Erin Hanson, too:

Marko Vuletič on Twitter: "Welcome to society, We hope you enjoy your stay, And please feel free to be yourself, As long as it's in the right way... A poem by Erin

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

Soul Sunday

My 10 minute social media overview for the day:

Virus, virus statistics, ageism, politics, Hollywood, rants about this, rants about that, strange attempts at humor, question of the day: Are we all mentally ill?

That’s when I needed a shift in direction and started looking for poems about “stillness.” I don’t have the rhyme in me today. But this poem, which I found on my search, is perfect. It says it, just the way I feel it. That’s what poetry does, right? “It says it, the way we feel it.” Write a poem today. Say it how you feel it. It’s that simple. Poetry is emotion in word form.

Silence Stillness by Philo Yan - Silence Stillness Poem

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

Soul Sunday

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

Good morning! We have made it through another round of “the holiday season.” Whether it was wonderful, or it was weathered, or it was something in between, it is done. Fini. On to our hopes and to our dreams for the upcoming year!

Sundays on the blog are devoted to poetry. I consider Sundays to be a poetry workshop of sorts. I get up the nerve to write a poem (most of the time) and I bravely and vulnerably share it on my blog, and I strongly encourage you to do the same. My husband and one of my friends both purchased adult coloring books for me this Christmas, and I was fascinated at just how relaxing coloring really is for the soul. Writing poetry is much the same. Try it, you’ll like it. Here is my poem for the day:

“Blueprints”

my favorite relationships were never on purpose

my favorite relationships were never rigidly defined

by a stiff tome of archaic rules and regs and decrees

my favorite relationships can best be described as random,

they are as organic as scattered seeds, tossed in the wind

who happened to find themselves in the same bed of gravel

and they grow together, miraculously, mutually transfixed,

marveling in each other’s resiliency and vibrancy and growth

and reflectively thrilled to be part of a vivid flower garden

that was never purposefully preconceived and planned

but nonetheless, in itself, ends up vitally existing,

wildly and supernaturally, breathtakingly beautiful,

as only Nature knows how to create.

Therein lies the unerring, intuitive truth:

There are no blueprints greater than the Divine’s.

Soul Sunday

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

Good morning. Good. Morning. It’s a good morning. Sundays are devoted to poetry here at the blog. Poetry is a form of writing that makes you notice. It’s not obvious. It’s subtle. It’s nuanced. It’s beauty. Write a poem today. Write a love poem to yourself. The poem (and probably mostly, the act of writing it) will make you feel good. I promise. Here’s my poem for today:

And then suddenly you flew over the lake, effortlessly.

One after the other, full of energy and lightness and carefree dignity.

I usually see just one of you. A delicate white bird,

Sitting all by yourself, in the frightfully large forest.

You stand out in the crowd of trees, a small white pocket of light,

In the thick, dark overgrowth of towering, teeming life.

I am happy to see you today with your flock of friends.

How did I not see? How did I not know?

You were never alone.

Soul Sunday

Favorite Quotes from Classic Poets - little infinite Poetry for Life

Leave it to a truly great poet, to describe it best. Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Poetry is pure discovery. You start writing a prose piece, and you usually have an outline in mind. When you write prose, you are usually working hard at “making sense”, and being clear and wrapping everything up, in a neat little finish. However, you start writing a poem, and you end up surprising yourself. You discover a delicious, mysterious part of yourself that you didn’t notice before. Your feelings start showing up, in the form of word play. Discover a little piece of yourself today. Write a poem.

Here is my poem for today:

Why is it that I never think about my heart,

Until I pay too much attention to what is stored inside of it?

Everything that is precious to me,

lives boldly and passionately,

bulging with movement and rhythm,

Inside of my heart, creating the beat and the motion of my life.

And in good times, that beating is strong, and vital and fearless.

And in confusing times, that beating feels unguarded, uneven and exposed.

In those times, I remind myself

Of an extraordinary heart that knows how to beat itself,

One vital heartbeat at a time. And I let the drumsticks fall to the floor.

And I stop thinking about my heart.

I trust my heart to keep beating on towards better moments just around the bend.

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

Soul Sunday

Good morning. Sundays are usually quiet and lovely and this one is no exception. I hope that this post finds you well and content. Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. On Sundays, I share a poem that I have written or a poem that someone else has written, which has moved me in some way. Write a poem today, even if it is something you choose to just share with yourself. Most of us write to ourselves anyway, even in published form. I started to write a poem, but I’m not strong enough to be vulnerable right now. My raw little mollusc self, feels more comfortable in her shell today. So here is a lovely poem from the great poet Rumi. You can never go wrong with Rumi:

Rumi - The Guest House | Inspirational words, Rumi quotes soul, Wisdom quotes

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

Soul Sunday

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

Good morning, my treasured readers. I hope that you are having the kind of Sunday morning that I am having. Relaxing, peaceful, sun-filled, hopeful . . . . this morning indicates a day filled with promise.

Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Sometimes I write a poem, and sometimes I share a poem that another writer has shared with the world. At the very least today, write a poem and share it with yourself. Poetry is perhaps the most intimate form of language which we have in this world.

“Poetry is ordinary language raised to the Nth power. Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words.” — Paul Engle

Here is my poem for today:

Calm Waters

I am sitting here dwelling in my relief

Isn’t that how it always goes with grief?

It comes in waves, it crescendos and crashes,

Until it levels out, and the tears dry in my lashes.

The largest waves end up as the harmless shallows on the shore,

Only to be sucked back out into the massive ocean of steady core.

The raging storms and waves will be stirred up again, I know.

But today, I will rest in the steady waters that only lightly flow.