Tag: poetry workshop

Soul Sunday

Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. I was inspired to write the poem below when I briefly skimmed some posts on X that said that a scathing article was written about Dolly Parton by The Federalist. I didn’t read the article, but I know that Dolly Parton has given millions to charities all over the country. She is beloved by her fans, all over the world. She has put so much good and happiness and beauty and creativity and acceptance and LOVE into the world that we all experience today. Roger Ebert, the movie critic said this about her, “In Dallas for the premier of ‘9 to 5’, I had an uncanny experience, and on the plane home to Chicago I confessed it to Siskel: I had been granted a private half hour with Dolly Parton, and as we spoke I was filled with a strange ethereal grace. This was not spiritual, nor was it sexual. It was healing and comforting. Gene listened and said, “Roger, I felt the exact same thing during my interview with her.” We looked at each other. What did this mean? Neither one of us ever felt that feeling again. From time to time we would refer to it in wonder.”

Do people float in your presence or do they sink?

Do you make people feel special? Do you make them think?

Do people feel loved by you or are you only courting love?

When people are with you, do they feel touched from above?

Do you focus on the good stuff or do you nitpick for the flaw?

After a time being with you, do people get a sense of awe?

And when I say “awe”, I don’t mean for you, I mean for themselves,

Like you’ve helped them lift their best selves, off from dusty shelves.

Some people are so well-loved because that’s all that they give away,

Love in every which direction, each and every day.

credit: @alioop326, X

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

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

2530. What is your favorite soup?

Soul Sunday

Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Today’s poem is written by Nathaniel Bard:

Quiet Gratitude

Fields of white stones, each a silent tale,
Flags flutter softly in the mourning gale.
Honor their memory, sacrifices cast,
In quiet gratitude, forever vast.

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

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

2158. Do you think a person can always depend on the kindness of strangers?

Soul Sunday

Good morning. Welcome to poetry day on the blog. My friend, who is an English teacher, texted this poem (shown below) to a group of us who have been friends since we were eighteen years old. It is one of the most lovely poems I have read in a long time. Enjoy.

BENEATH THE SWEATER AND THE SKIN

by Jeannette Encinias

How many years of beauty do I have left?

she asks me.

How many more do you want?

Here. Here is 34. Here is 50.

When you are 80 years old

and your beauty rises in ways

your cells cannot even imagine now

and your wild bones grow luminous and

ripe, having carried the weight

of a passionate life.

When your hair is aflame

with winter

and you have decades of

learning and leaving and loving

sewn into

the corners of your eyes

and your children come home

to find their own history

in your face.

When you know what it feels like to fail

ferociously

and have gained the

capacity

to rise and rise and rise again.

When you can make your tea

on a quiet and ridiculously lonely afternoon

and still have a song in your heart

Queen owl wings beating

beneath the cotton of your sweater.

Because your beauty began there

beneath the sweater and the skin,

remember?

This is when I will take you

into my arms and coo

YOU BRAVE AND GLORIOUS THING

you’ve come so far.

I see you.

Your beauty is breathtaking.

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

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

2899. Have you ever wished upon a star?

Soul Sunday

Welcome to poetry day on the blog. Sundays are devoted to poetry here. Emily Dickinson’s poems were not widely published until after she died. She was known as a recluse and as a rebel. One of her most famous poems is below. I like it. I’ve never quite understood the desire for fame (admiration, sure, but fame – No thank you.) I believe that fame would limit your individual freedom so much, and also make you feel quite misunderstood and not quite “seen” despite being ever so seen. But honestly, I wouldn’t know. I’m nobody! Who are you?

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

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

666. What is one thing you do that you consider practical?

Soul Sunday

Good morning. Welcome to poetry day on the blog. I love Sundays. Sunday is the “breathe out deeply” day of the week. Whatever happened during the week, take in the good stuff and let go of the rest. Settle yourself with ease and prepare yourself for the fresh new start of a beautiful new week. Write a poem today. Poetry helps with the process of letting go. Poetry helps with the process of going within. Poetry helps to reach deeper meaning and understanding. You are worth a poem today. You are worth a poem everyday. Here is my own poem for today:

The most beautiful souls in the world

Are experts at giving away

What they once so desperately needed.

They figured out how to harvest

What was deeply implanted inside

And they grew it, and as it flowered with fruit,

With the help of other kindred souls,

They pried open the doors,

and they let it all flow out,

To help cleanse the world of its pain.

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

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

1732. What is/was your blessing in disguise?

Soul Sunday

“Experience becoming . . . make your soul grow . . . . do it for the rest of your lives.” Did you read the assignment that Kurt Vonnegut, the author of Slaughterhouse-Five and other esteemed works, gave to these high school students in 2006? (Kurt Vonnegut died about six months after this letter was written) Today, on poetry day on the blog, let’s do his assignment. I’ll do it, if you do it: “Write a six line poem, about anything, but rhymed. No fair tennis without a net. Make it as good as you possibly can. But don’t tell anybody what you’re doing. Don’t show it or recite it to anybody . . . . Tear it up into teeny-weeny pieces, and discard them into widely separated recepticals.”

Why should we do this assignment? Well, Kurt Vonnegut said this will be the outcome: “You will find that you have been gloriously rewarded for your poem. You have experienced becoming, learned a lot more about what’s inside you, and you have made your soul grow.”

But I suspect that you, my dear beloved readers, already know this. Bless you. I imagine that your poem is amazing. The poetry of you, already is amazing. Your soul is growing beautifully. It becomes you.

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

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

1891. Have you ever stood up for anyone?

Soul Sunday

“I was reading the dictionary. I thought it was a poem about everything.” -Steven Wright

Welcome to poetry day on the blog. How is the culmination of another summer in the rearview mirror feeling to you? Write a poem about it. Poetry can be your own private language with yourself. Your soul has the decipher code.

Here is the poem I wrote for today:

“Knee Deep in Mud”

Summer sometimes feels like walking through sludge

I want to fly but the air’s too heavy

And so I make imperceptible moves

Hoping that I am headed somewhere

Other than where I am stuck in the mud.

But then I get a gust of momentum

And I look back and I realized I have come further

Than I realized. There must have been mud in my eye.

Or a cloud over my spirit. Because there’s a trail of footprints,

I have left behind me. And the visions that lie ahead,

Are getting larger and clearer and more distinct every day.

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 Sundays, I often implore you to write yourself a poem. This poet says it best:

I follow a man named Joseph Fasano on Twitter. He’s an English teacher in NYC, but he is also a published prose writer, poet and a musician. Joseph Fasano is also an incredible curator of other people’s poetry. I highly recommend for you to follow Joseph Fasano on Twitter. You will learn so much. Recently he assigned his students this: “Your assignment tonight is to read a writer someone told you not to“. Readers, let’s follow that assignment. Go to a banned books list and amaze yourself by just how many of the books on that list you have already read, and loved (and perhaps, were even assigned to read in school). Let’s not let sterilized AI and limited, fearful ideology take over the beauty, creativity, honesty and humanity, that comes from the written word of so many different perspectives and experiences, told in the voices of true, vulnerable humans, seeking some form of wisdom and understanding. Empathy is uniquely human when we decide to utilize it.

Below is one of Joseph’s most excellent poems. (anyone who has ever had to leave a terrible situation, can relate to this one):

And he posted this poem the other day. This poem so reminds me of my grandparents’ generation. They just had a way with living life in acceptance that I think we may have somewhat lost throughout the years:

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.