poetry workshop Archives - Page 14 of 15

Soul Sunday

Hello dear friends! Watch this adorable video of tiny twin boys discussing germs and quarantine. It will warm your heart and I dare you not to laugh:

https://twitter.com/i/status/1241262775248269312

My regular readers know that Sundays are dedicated to poetry. I encourage you to use this forum as a poetry workshop. I usually share a poem that I have written and I ask my readers to share their poems in the Comments section. If you never thought that you had time before to try your hand at writing poetry, now you do. The world needs more beautiful, soul opening, heart touching poetry more than ever before. Please share your heart here, with us. It did strike me, the other day, that if ever there was a time for everyone to fully realize how much we actually LOVE each other, it is now. We have shut down our entire way of being and living, to protect the most vulnerable and the most aged among us. We have shut down, unitedly and globally, how we live, to protect the bravest and the most brilliant among us, who are working feverishly at finding us a cure and at healing as many people as they can, from this terrible scourge that is upon us. We have narrowed our living experience down to what is the fundamentally most important to us, letting all of the other less important pieces fall to the ground, as they may. I think that we have our priorities straight. See how the world is responding to this virus, and know just how much you are LOVED. I am LOVED. We are LOVED and WE ARE LOVE . In the end, it is LOVE that sustains us all. I didn’t write today’s poem. I saw it on Twitter, written by a person who calls themselves, Mr. Jones. Stay well, friends. Here is the beautiful poem:

History will remember when

the world stopped

And the flights stayed on

the ground.

And the cars parked in the

street.

And the trains didn’t run.

History will remember when

the schools closed

And the children stayed

indoors

And the medical staff walked

towards the fire

And they didn’t run.

History will remember when

the people sang

On their balconies, in

isolation

But so very much together

In courage and song

History will remember when

the people fought

for their old and their weak

Protected their vulnerable

By doing nothing at all.

History will remember when

the virus left

And the houses opened

And the people came out

And hugged and kissed

And started again

Kinder than before.

Soul Sunday

Fortune for the Day – “Turn your face to the sun, and the shadows fall behind you.” – Maori proverb

This is all just so surreal. I am praying that this is all that it is for you, my readers and friends – surreal . . . but, not tragic. I admit, I’m a little bit rattled. I’ve lost my footing, my mojo, my ease of words, just a little bit. All of this will come back: my footing, my mojo, my ease of expression. It will come back for me and it will come back for the world. We will overcome this together. We’ve heard the horror stories of people beating each other up for toilet paper, but more so, the beautiful side of the human spirit is seen in the Italians singing at the same time, every night from their windows and the Spaniards, clapping and praising for their health workers every night and people getting groceries for their elderly neighbors. I want to remain being part of the beautiful side of all this. I don’t want to succumb to my darker sides such as fear, panic, greed, and self-centeredness. The permission to really rest, to really take in and to appreciate nature, to feel the security and the comfort of a full house of family, again, are the gifts that are coming from this otherwise, frightening and sometimes, overwhelming experience. Here’s my poem for the day, friends. New readers, please look at previous Sunday posts for more poetry and please use this blog, as a safe, serene spot, to post and to share your beautiful poems.

Simple Lesson

Let me learn the lessons.

Let this worldly pause, be a time of reflection.

Let me use this time to really notice all that really matters.

Let me truly savor this hiatus which I always claim to be wishing for.

God has pushed the Pause button.

I can fight against it, like a tired, hysterical child,

Or I can take in the lessons, like an earnest student of Life.

Either way, this class will wrap up and the only thing left of it,

will be what I attained from it.

If I gather everything that I can from this experience,

It will be a beautiful addition, to my basket of nourishment,

That basket which I carry with me, throughout my daily living.

Let this experience help me to strengthen and to fortify my basket,

And prune from it, the things that are no longer necessary,

the things that have been weighing me down, without me even noticing.

Let me find the gifts of this experience and to focus on these gifts,

Because the focus on the gifts, is what gives to me,

my serenity, my gratefulness, my calm and my peace.

Perhaps the lesson is a much simpler one than I ever thought it to be.

Dare I say, thank you?

Soothing Sunday

Happy International Women’s Day! Not so happy Daylight Savings Spring Forward Day. Where does the time go?

Sunday is devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. Thank you. Thank you for coming to commune at the blog, and to read, and to contemplate, and to rest, and to support. Thank you to those of you who have bravely shared your poems in the past. Please keep sharing. This is friendly, safe format – an online poetry workshop, to send our heart waves out in the form of words and of phrases and of nuances. Here is my poetry offering for today:

Spring Cleaning

Grumbling, hesitant, resigned.

Annoyed with the prospect of the task at hand.

Necessary evil, spring clean up, in the yard.

Mellowing, energy flowing, smiling.

Slowly opening to commune with nature.

Family venture, another tie that binds us.

Laughing, singing, glowing.

In love with creation, ours and His.

Everything breathes. Everything makes perfect sense.

We’re done? The project, completed too soon.

I wanted to bottle the moment up,

and to hold it in my hands,

so that I could keep the inseparableness of it all, forever.

Soul Sunday

Good morning. Rabbit. Rabbit. Rabbit.

Fortune for the day – “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” – Annie Dillard

Welcome to Sunday. May this first Sunday in March, be particularly calming, soothing, comforting, and re-setting. May this Sunday find you surrounded in such peaceful tranquility that you can’t imagine ever coming out of its trance of repose. Remember, when you make/allow/find yourself feeling good, you, in turn, uplift the entire world.

Readers, Sundays are dedicated to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. I strongly encourage you to share your beautiful souls in the form of poems in the Comments Section. My new friend and fellow writer, Walberto Campos, has written a strong, poignant poem about his father’s experience with Alzheimer’s disease. I will be publishing that one in the Comments section. Please read it, and please, too, publish your poems in the Comments section. The world can never have enough poetry. Your poems give others permission to share their souls, as well. In poetry, our souls are bared and veiled, all at the same time, which is why I think that we all find poetry so mystifying, yet gratifying. It is so easy to find our own experiences and emotions in almost any poem. Poems are powerful. Here’s my poem for today:

My Little Flower

My little flower grows in someone else’s garden.

Yet, perhaps by providence,

by a Source who loves us both,

I have been assigned to some of her care.

(and perhaps she has been entrusted with some of my care, too)

She is tiny and fragile, yet beautiful and radiant.

She keeps her glowing, purple bloom, reaching towards the sun,

Always. She chooses the sunny side. Always.

Always moving towards the sunshine.

On my designated day, I help to nourish her growth,

hopefully adding some woven strands to her tender roots,

her roots which have already kept her very strong,

through some rough winds and fearful storms.

She has good, solid roots because they fearlessly branch out,

to get her what she needs, to flourish and to blossom.

Every part of her being is fearlessly alive, and flowing, and growing.

She knows how to bloom, my little flower.

She inspires me. And so after carefully tending to her,

I go back to my own garden and everything blossoms,

all the more radiantly, all because of one tiny flower.

Clearing

This week feels very poetic (in a beautiful, serendipitous kind of a way), for some reason. I read this poem today and I had to share it:

Clearing

Do not try to save
the whole world
or do anything grandiose.
Instead, create
a clearing
in the dense forest
of your life
and wait there
patiently,
until the song
that is your life
falls into your own cupped hands
and you recognize and greet it.
Only then will you know
how to give yourself
to this world
so worth of rescue.
― Martha Postlewaite

We all have our own little parts, yet very significant parts, to play in the co-creation of this world that we live in, breathe in, love in, dance in, sing in, cook in, feel in, heal in, obsess in, fear in, anger in, paint in, cry in, laugh in, crunch numbers in, play in, learn in, grow in, give birth in, die in. It is my wish for today, that a “knowingness” peacefully covers all of us – a surety of what our own very unique, highest part is to play, in this co-creation, just for today, for the best interests of everyone. I suppose that I will just call that surety/knowingness/peacefulness, “faith.”

Fortune for the day – “Chance is always powerful. Let your hook be always cast. In the pool where you least expect it, there will be a fish.” – Ovid

Your Perfect World

Fortune for the day – “The human soul needs actual beauty more than bread.” – D.H. Lawrence

I am one of those people who is pretty open and approachable. This has been a blessing and a curse in my life. I’ve had to do a lot of studying about boundaries. Yet, at the same time, I have met the most fascinating people, with the most engrossing stories because I honestly find most people, from every walk of life, absolutely enchanting and I think that they figure that out pretty quickly. This morning my friendliness was a beautiful blessing. I met a fellow writer in the least likely of places. We are having the popcorn ceiling removed in our garage. The project supervisor is a lovely man named Walberto Campos. I mentioned that I would be inside writing if he needed me to answer any questions. He mentioned that he, too, was a writer. He writes poetry, political satires about what is going on in his country of El Salvador, and he is currently working on a novel. We completely bonded in the matter of a few minutes over our love for the written word. He showed me a couple of his poems. He had written a passionate, beautiful poem for his wife, as a Valentines gift. I asked him if I could publish it on my blog and he generously offered it up. I was going to wait to publish it on Soul Sunday, but instead, I will offer it up as a gift to all of us today. On a funny aside, with all of this popcorn ceiling business (which is 100 percent my husband’s detail oriented side coming out), I insisted that my husband handle this enterprise completely, from getting estimates, to setting up the project and then arranging to pay for it. I get burned out of babysitting house projects very quickly, and then, the not-so-approachable, not so very friendly side of me, rears her ugly head of snakes. So, this morning, I told Walberto to just text my husband the poem (the love poem) because that would be easiest since he and my husband have been making all of the project arrangements through text. He looked at me like, “Okay, really?!?” I said, “Don’t worry, Walberto. I’ll text him that it is coming, but we’ve been married for over 25 years. He’s used to these things, with me, and the new friends whom I meet all of the time. It would be weirder if he didn’t get a love poem from a contractor on a Monday morning.” Here’s the poem. Start Monday off right:

Soul Sunday

Fortune for the Day – “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” – Mother Teresa

Good morning, my dear friends and readers. I hope that you are well today. New readers, Sundays are dedicated to poetry here at Adulting-Second Half. Please share your poems in the Comments. Soul Sunday, has quickly become my most popular, “read” day on the blog. That tells me that poetry moves many souls, in many ways. Share your poems, friends. When you share your poems, I think that you share your most intimate, less “crafted” self. And that is the greatest gift that you can give to yourself and to the world.

Here is my poem for the day:

Cleaning Out the Garage

There’s a heap of our family life,

Unceremoniously dumped on the curb of the drive.

A litany of sports played by the kids,

starting with small plastic bats, moving on to helmets.

Helmets for everything – bike riding, lacrosse, softball.

Old suitcases, cracked and weathered with age and wear,

But once the housers of our treasures and trinkets as they witnessed,

The grand adventures of our chaotic family vacations.

The suitcases are piled on top of the piles and piles and piles of rags.

Rags, that once started out as the nice, fresh, new towels,

Only to brought out for guests, but after years of use,

Relegated to the rag pile in the garage, best used to wipe down cars.

No one has taken the electric scooter yet,

The in-line skates are past their prime.

The bike baskets are charming, but faded and crumbly.

It takes a great deal of fortitude to clean out the garage.

Most especially, emotional fortitude.

A small piece of my heart is faintly beating,

Underneath the heap of our family life, lying by the road.

Soothing Sunday

Fortune for the day -“They live in wisdom who see themselves in all and all in them.” – Bhagavad Gita

Good, beautiful Sunday morning. It’s a lovely day here. The sun is shining, the lake is still, the air is calm. It’s like the day is quietly, patiently inviting us to become part of it. Sundays are soulful here at Adulting – Second Half. Sundays are our poetry workshop days. I share a poem and I ask you to share some of your poems in the Comments section. A few of my braver readers have shared such gorgeous poems in the past. Please share yours, too. In the words of Peter McWilliams:

One of the great joys of life is creativity. Information goes in, get shuffled about, and comes out in new and interesting ways. . . . It doesn’t matter that you don’t know how to do it “perfectly.” . . . Does it give you joy? Does it give you satisfaction? Is it fun? Does it make you feel more in touch with the creative flow of life? . . . . Then do it.

Here’s my poem for today:

The Lake

The lake is like watching a reflection of my emotions,

Sometimes so quietly still, almost to the point of solid nothingness,

Sometimes so turbulent, I dare not venture too far in,

Sometimes a surprising disturbance, the unexpected jumps out,

Creating ripples, not in great haste, to disappear.

The lake appears so very deep, yet it has its shallows.

The lake houses a lot of life in its teeming depths,

It’s not nearly as placid as it seems, underneath it all.

Whether tranquil or churned up, the lake is truly beautiful.

The lake is complicated and simple, all at once.

Being, reflecting, moving, idling, housing, holding, drowning.

Sometimes a sanctuary, sometimes a death trap.

Always there, but never the same.

The lake of my emotions.

Soul Sunday

Fortune for the day -“One who seeks knowledge must desire from a young age to hear the entire truth.” – Plato

Sundays are poetry workshop days, here at Adulting – Second Half. I hope that you are sitting comfortably, maybe even cozily wrapped in a blanket. I hope that you have a delicious, warm cup of tea or coffee, readily available, in order to warm your hands, and your heart. I hope that, in this very moment, you feel surrounded by peace, comfort, acceptance and love. I hope that, right now, in this very place in time, you are in your sacred space.

Here is my poem for today, and as always, please feel the courage, the inclination, the vulnerability and the inspiration, to share your own poems in the Comments section. One day, I hope that this poetry workshop of ours, is “Standing Room Only.” It’s our creative impulses, that come out from within the deepest part of ourselves (without demeaning censure coming from ourselves or from others), that drive this world forward – a beautiful world, which we are all co-creating together. Be free. Be open. Be real. Be alive. Don’t waste another second, in a precious day of your life on anything less than your purest, kindest authenticity. You, and our world, will be uplifted for your effort, and yet also the effortlessness it takes for you to be, your purest, truest self.

Melange

If my things were to represent my mind,

My mind would be chaotic, and in disarray.

Jumping from lucky symbols, to memories captured in the form of photographs,

Piles of inspirations, and numbered orderly logs, laid out in disorderly fashion.

Objects that touched my heart, at the very instance that I laid eyes on the piece,

For no particular rhyme or reason, perhaps just deeply primal.

The compilation of it all, makes no sense to the untrained eye.

But to me, it is a beautiful, nonsensical pattern,

A medley, an assortment, that makes perfect sense.

The inner me, coming forth in physical form.

Amusing, interesting, cluttered, muddled, yet clear.

A hodgepodge in harmony.

Soul Sunday

Fortune for the Day – “Joy and sorrow are the shade and light of life; without light and shade no picture is clear.” – Hazrat Inayat Khan

Readers, Sundays aren’t just for football. (But hey, Happy Super Bowl Sunday!) Here at Adulting- Second Half, Sundays are reserved for the poetic side of ourselves. Every Sunday, I share a poem and I ask you to share your poems in the Comments. It’s a nice way to dive into the heart a little bit, before the often analytical work week begins.

Life is Love

Perhaps one of the sweetest gifts of aging,

Is a paused appreciation,

Of just about everything.

A wisdom, a hilarity, a knowing,

A peacefulness,

Comes in at the lulls,

more than it every came before.

In the paused moment,

Gazing at the wonder of it all,

Choosing to put the internal narrator on mute,

Even for the slightest moment,

Brings beautiful calming clarity.

The slowing down that comes from growing older,

Inevitably brings more gifted pauses,

All to remind me of one truth,

Life is Love.