Tag: poems

Soul Sunday

Hello, my loveys. Welcome to Sunday. Aren’t Sundays wonderful? They are such a reprieve from the craziness of the week. Even people who work on Sundays, don’t typically seem to have to work as hard as they normally do. The hours are lighter, as are the expectations set. (except if you are a church leader, I suppose, but I have to believe that religious leaders are living their passion and purpose, rendering the word “work” pointless, in a way). I think that Sundays are our weekly “reset button.”

My regular readers know that I devote Sundays to poetry here at the blog. I consider it a “poetry workshop” day, where I play around with writing a poem, or sometimes I share a poem, written by another poet, that has moved me or piqued my curiosity. Spend some time with poetry today. Read it. Write it. Or perhaps, just for this Sunday, make your own life to be a little bit of poetry in motion.

I recently found this poet, Rebecca Elson, and I think that her poetry is amazing. I particularly like this poem that I have shared below. I was recently reminded that we walk in the sky. We walk in the atmosphere. I remember when I was a little kid and I would draw the blue space of the sky way above my stick figure family’s head. My art teacher reminded me that the sky starts right on the ground which we walk on. So, I suppose, in a way, we walk among the stars of the sky, every day and night of our lives.

Antidotes to Fear of Death - Elson

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

Soul Sunday

Good morning, my dearest readers. I hope that this Sunday finds you well. I devote Sundays to poetry. I write a poem and I courageously put my poem out there into the ethersphere, for no other reason than I can. And so can you. The world never died from bad poetry, and many worlds have been inspired by good poetry. Poetry is a release for the writer, and a spark of thought for the reader. Be brave and bold. Write a poem today and put it out there for others to catch your spirit. Here is my poem for today:

August

I suppose that August was created in order to

Help me to empathize with my food.

August is like those last couple minutes of cooking

Frantically checking, cutting, smelling, sensing . . .

August is that crucial, tiny, middle slice of time

Which determines whether something is perfectly cooked,

Or entirely burnt and ruined, needing to rise from the ashes,

to start again anew . . . . .

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

Soul Sunday

Sundays, on the blog, are devoted to poetry. Writing in prose feels like communicating with others, whereas writing poetry feels like communicating with oneself. When I write in prose, I am trying to express myself in a way that I better understand myself and my feelings, and I hope that this expression, clearly communicates what I am thinking and knowing and feeling about anything or any circumstance. Prose desires validation and attention and clear articulation. On the other hand, poetry is really the most private form of writing. It is always open-ended, and deeply affected by individual interpretation. Prose is like a portrait painting, and poetry is more like abstract art. Write yourself a poem today. You deserve one. Here is my poem for today:

Sometimes, some days a poem just doesn’t happen

The riddle of where it is, is like a mermaid’s fin.

It prefers to stay a mystery below the surface,

An unhealed wound, without a kiss.

Bringing it to light feels too harsh and too soon.

So the sweet little poem, grows safely in its private cocoon.

So today, when you arrived here, you did not get a poem.

Instead, you got the poet.

She is here, not because of her words, but because of her love for you,

I hope that you deeply know it.

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, readers. Sundays are devoted to poetry. Today I am devoted to being quiet and within myself. I hope that you find some time today, to listen to, and to be with just yourself. Sunday is the perfect day to commune with, and to connect to the deepest part of you. Here is my poem for today:

“The Safe”

I handed you your life back yesterday.

All in a tidy little safe.

It has your birth certificate.

It holds your baptism certificate.

It also contains your passport, your SSN card, and your draft card.

I decided to add the addresses of all those who have loved you,

since the day that you were born, maybe even before.

It has a two dollar bill from your late grandfather.

He thought that it would be neat for you to have it.

And some savings bonds from my late grandmother.

She thought that it would be wise for you to have them.

Oh, and the space in between all of the paper stuff,

that space holds the mighty force of my love,

so anytime that you open the tidy, little safe,

you will be instantly surrounded and shielded,

By the strongest, most powerful, wisest, most faithful and loyal,

Part of me. My love will surround you then, and forever.

As it always has, and it always will. My love surrounds you.

You are safe to be free.

Soul Sunday

Good morning, soulmates. We are experiencing an extraordinary and lovely weekend here. What is more beautiful than the lush, fully green, fully ripe, late spring days, hinting at the free-spirited summer around the corner? My regular readers know that Sundays are devoted to poetry, a poetry workshop of sorts. Usually I write a poem, although sometimes I share a poem by another poet who has moved me. As always, I strongly encourage you to share your poems, or at the very least, to write one. Writing a poem is the perfect way to have a conversation with your heart and with your soul. Here’s my poem for the day:

Beautiful Days

Today is beautiful outside. We don’t often count the beautiful days.

The counted days are the fierce, savage days,

which insist on being experienced by rapid force,

And held in our memories by fear and prowling.

The beautiful days leave the door open, with a soothing invitation,

to bring inside, the calm, clear colors, and the soft shimmering of the outside,

to softly cleanse and to shine up and to clear up the view,

for the inner core of our very being and awareness.

The beautiful days are gentle and quiet and nourishing,

and far more prevalent than we ever truly care to admit.

The dramatic storms, with their ravenous anger and destruction,

hold us in rapt attention and rumination and trepidation.

The vicious days have made industries of defense and calculation.

The beautiful days just offer themselves freely. Love requires no invitation.

Soak in the beauty of the day. And expect more beautiful days.

Storms are just angry reminders to remember to count the beautiful days.

The storms are just intermittent nudges to bask in the plethora of beautiful days.

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

Bonus thought for the day: It doesn’t really matter what happens. We have very little control about what happens, in most cases. What matters is how we handle what happens.

Soul Sunday

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

Good morning, soul mates. I hope today finds you in a peaceful, tranquil place. My regular readers know that Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. On Sundays, I either write a poem or I share a poem which has moved me. Poetry comes not from your head, but from your heart. Sure your mind can help with the rhyming and the creative twists and the remembering of obscure and interesting words, but the reason why we often get a lump in our throats when we read a poem, is because our heart is touched by the emotion that brought the words into being. Write a poem today, friends. It will help you to hear your heart.

I am embarking on a big, busy, fun, exciting, but emotional week in the life of our family. Another one of my children will be graduating from college, among other exciting and nerve-wracking events. As I reflect on this fact, swirling with the 500,000 different emotions this type of event brings to the surface, I’ve been meditating a lot on the idea of letting go. Sometimes it feels like the whole purpose of living a human life, is to learn the lesson of letting go. This poem, written by another poet, says it well, I think (I feel):

If you cannot be a poet, be the poem. | Pretty words, Eh poems, Words quotes

Soul Sunday

Good morning, soul mates. I hope that this post finds you well. I hope that you feel comfortable, peaceful, grateful and filled with contentment. I hope that you are luxuriating in just “being.” I find that during the time spent in my weekends, I do spurts of “busy-ness” and then I relax into spurts of just leisurely “being-ness.” It’s easier to give myself to “being-ness” on the weekends, without guilt, or worries of messing up The “All important” Schedule.

My regular readers know that Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. On Sundays, I either write a poem or I share a poem written by another poet who has moved my soul. Today, I am sharing two short poems, written by other poets. These poems move my soul. I hope that you get moved, too. As always, I encourage you to share your poems in my Comments section. At the very least, write a poem. Scratch one down in a notebook. Poetry is your soul speaking to you, sometimes in mysterious ways. Listen to your soul. It has beautiful things to say to you. Here are today’s poems:

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

Soul Sunday

Hello to my beautiful, soulmates! On Sundays, we do poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. I write a poem or I share a poem by another poet and I strongly encourage you to share your poems in my Comments section. Sometimes sharing our poems, feels very vulnerable, because sometimes our poems bare our souls. Today, I am feeling light and silly and so my poem for today, reflects that mood. Poems are indeed good mirrors of our inner lives. If you find that you can’t journal every day, try jotting down a daily poem, even just a couple of lines. This practice will tell you a lot about yourself.

As I age, I look for role models, as I have done in every stage of my life. I look at people who seem to age well, and I wonder how to emulate their ability to age so healthfully, and so comfortably and delightfully. Betty White, Iris Apfel, and our neighbor Dave, are all people well past eighty, who look amazing, and still seem to buzz with energy and life, sometimes even more so than their younger peers.

To give you a glimpse of how my curious mind works, and how I even got to writing this particular blog post, I’ll let you know where it started. On Twitter this morning, someone posted a picture of Nat King Cole and his wife, Maria Cole. I found the picture of Maria to be absolutely stunning, so naturally, I looked up more information about her. Maria was also a talented musician, and she raised five children with Nat, until his early death in 1965. Maria went on to live until she was 89 years old. What initially struck me about Maria Cole’s picture, was her huge, radiant smile. It was a constant in almost all of her pictures.

My son once played on a team with another boy whose mother is striking. Granted, this woman is a natural beauty. She is probably about a decade older than me, but she seems to have almost a regality about her. I could never put my finger on why I found her to be so particularly stunning, in a sea of attractive soccer moms, to stand out like she did. Then one day, it occurred to me. Every time that I saw her, she was smiling. She is always smiling. She has a huge smile that is shown in every part of her being and it radiates. I remember thinking that you don’t need plastic surgery or vitamin infusions to remain lovely, as you age. Smiling does so much for anyone, even at the surface level of good looks.

With that being said, here is my poem for today:

The Prescription for Aging Beautifully

If you wish to live a long and happy life,

Peaceful, tranquil, with very little strife,

If a healthy centenarian, is what you wish to be,

With eyes which sparkle with wisdom, mischief and glee,

I have the magic potion, the elixir, the recipe.

Wait for it.

Here it is:

Smile. A lot. Every Single Day.

Just smile, smile, smile the day away.

Smile. 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

Science has just uncovered another benefit of a happy face. People who have big smiles live longer. (The Dallas Morning News)

One study found that just one smile can give you the immediate happiness of eating 2,000 bars of chocolate — without the stomachache. (Advent Health)

New research finds happier people live longer, on average, while angry ones are more likely to die early. (Pacific Standard)

A study from London University College stated that happy, cheerful people are 35% more likely to live longer. Smiling lowers the heart rate and reduces blood pressure, while relaxing your body. (RiverTea)

The study in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences found that people who had higher levels of optimism had a longer life span. They also had a greater chance of living past age 85. (Harvard Medical School)

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

Soul (Super) Sunday

“If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve (or save) the world and a desire to enjoy (or savor) the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.” – E.B. White

As my regular readers know, Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. On Sundays, I either write a poem or I share a poem written by another poet, which has moved me, deeply. Keep in mind, we are all poets. I would love to see some of your poems in my Comments section. Do not be shy. This is not a critique zone. This is a loving, release zone. Poetry is made of words that are asking to be released, with all of the feeling that gives these very words meaning and momentum.

Today is Super Bowl Sunday. I know that sometimes, some of us self-professed high-minded, serious, spiritual, literary, intellectual types, think that we are “above” such earthly frivolity and carnage. Ha! The Super Bowl is awesome. Even if you are not a football fan, the creativity that goes into the commercials and the half-time show always blows me away! I am so grateful to live in a time period, where I can easily rewind and watch a hilarious commercial, again and again. I never thought that I would live to see the day, that the former sentence that I just wrote, would hold real meaning for me. (grateful to watch commercials again and again, huh?!?) Also, don’t get me started on the singing of the National Anthem. (tissue box is full, and at the ready) And let’s also not get carried away here, discussing Super Bowl food fare. No one sets down a plate of bean sprouts for the Super Bowl. Bean dip, yes! Bean sprouts, no. Eat more chips!!! Eat more wings!! I think that E.B. White (author of the above quote) would choose to make Super Bowl Sunday, a “savor the world” day, no question about it. Savor the world, today, friends, and let’s go Buccaneers!!!!

Today’s poem is someone else’s poem. I love it! Here it is:

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

Soul Sunday

The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.
– W. B. Yeats

Good morning, friends and readers. I hope that you have slept soundly and are enjoying a lovely Sunday. Here at Adulting – Second Half, Sundays are devoted to poetry. Why is poetry important? Alice Osborn says it best, I think: “Poetry is so important because it helps us understand and appreciate the world around us. Poetry’s strength lies in its ability to shed a “sideways” light on the world, so the truth sneaks up on you. No question about it. Poetry teaches us how to live.” I think that as the Yeats quote from above says, the world is full of magic things. Poetry helps us to sharpen our sensitivities to all of the magic surrounding us.

The inaugural poem this year will be written and read by a 22-year-old poet named Amanda Gorman. She is the youngest poet to ever write and recite an inaugural poem. I cannot wait to read it. This is the poem that Robert Frost recited at John F. Kennedy’s inauguration:

“The Gift Outright”

Poem recited at John F. Kennedy’s Inauguration
by Robert Frost

The land was ours before we were the land’s 
She was our land more than a hundred years 
Before we were her people. She was ours 
In Massachusetts, in Virginia, 
But we were England’s, still colonials, 
Possessing what we still were unpossessed by, 
Possessed by what we now no more possessed. 
Something we were withholding made us weak 
Until we found out that it was ourselves 
We were withholding from our land of living, 
And forthwith found salvation in surrender. 
Such as we were we gave ourselves outright 
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war) 
To the land vaguely realizing westward, 
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced, 
Such as she was, such as she will become.

I would like to suggest that we all take some time today to play around with our own words, and to write our own inaugural poems. It would be an excellent way to express and to discharge all of the tumultuous thoughts and feelings that we may be having, about what is going on in our country, during these turbulent times. If you are so inclined, I would love to see your poems in my Comments section. You, my readers, are a blessing to me, to all of those who love you, and to yourselves, if you are doing a good job of self care. Do a good job of being the blessing that you are to the world!! Do a good job of just being “you”! That is your greatest offering to the world.

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