Tag: poetry workshop

Soul Sunday

Good morning. Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Poetry is the heartbeat of communication. You have to be deliberate when you write poetry. It’s hard to be sloppy with it. It’s a concentrated effort. I think that’s why it is meditative to write poetry. Having just taken my first sip of coffee, after a delicious morning of sleeping in, I’m not ready to be so concentrative and meditative, therefore I will share one my favorite poems written by Langston Hughes. (I’ll probably fiddle around with my words later. You should, too. Try writing some poetry. You’ll like it.)

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

Soul Sunday

Good morning. I played with my words today. I took the time to write my own poem today. (For my new readers (and welcome!), Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog.) My poem isn’t great, but it isn’t awful, and I feel excited to have woken up, and to have created something out of thin air. Create something this morning. Make an omelet. Write a poem. Draw a doodle. Plant a seed. Sundays are about doing the things that soothe our souls, and the things that awaken our most inspired energy. The world is a better place when we gift it, a small piece of our own inspired creativity and light.

Here’s my poem for today:

“Acceptance”

There’s a storm brewing.

It’s been stirring and tossing all of the ingredients,

Of a torrent, gloppy mess, for quite some time.

I’ve denied its existence, shading my eyes from its obvious glare.

I’ve railed against it. To come at us, like this, is terribly unfair.

I’ve tried to make a deal with the storm in my mind,

If you leave us alone, I promise to be kind.

I’ve cried about it, again and again.

Tears ruining the words, as I take this to pen.

Until finally, it all becomes incredibly clear.

Yes, there’s a storm brewing. The time is near,

And a quiet, still voice is softly whispering into my ear,

You shall survive all that this storm brings to you, my dear.

There is no peace felt, like the calm after a torrential, raging storm.

Perhaps these are the wise, parting gifts of storms that transform.

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. Below is a picture that I took this morning, of one of our plants, who lives on our back porch. What a beauty! This gorgeous green palm is the inspiration for the poem which I wrote below. There is so much inspiration for poetry in all of our lives, if we are just willing to look for it, and to contemplate it. Sundays are the perfect days to contemplate the epic poems of our own lives. Today, live as if your own life was a treasured poem to be shared throughout the ages. We all have our odysseys. Explore and record and savor the epic-ness of your own inner and outer life. It’s a hidden treasure waiting for you to notice it.

And as the raindrops glistened in the new morning sun,

the plants understood that they had been kissed by diamonds,

through the torrential storms and the terrors of the night.

It’s just that they had to wait for the buoyant light of day,

to see the blessing of what was once thought their plight.

Soul Sunday

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

Good morning. Welcome to Poetry Day on the blog. Last night was excruciating for me. I woke up with a ferocious toothache that was insistent that I stay awake and miserable for the entirety of the night. The toothache made it perfectly clear that it had no plans to allow me to get any real sleep. I’ve been ignoring the flashing, yellow caution light that’s been quietly, yet pointedly announcing itself, all this week, on the left hand side of my mouth, with my pie-in-the-sky hopes that maybe it would “just go away.” Ha! The chicken has come home to roost, and she is one mad hen.

When you are experiencing a lot of pain, you try to look for the bright sides, such as the fact that at least Advil and Orajel exist. You think back to what it would have looked like to have had one of these horrific toothaches in the middle ages. You remind yourself about just how much worse it could be, even as the dull, yet sharp ache bangs and bangs and bangs, making the entire side of your face feel like its getting heartily beaten up, by a determined amateur boxer, in the inside of your mouth.

I think that this poet describes a toothache perfectly. Who knew that you could turn a toothache into poetry? It goes to show, everything can be poetry.

Soul Sunday

Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Many people think that poetry has to be serious, long, confusing, emotional, hard to understand and difficult to decipher. It’s easy to forget that Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein were also world famous poets with their fun and silly, rhymey ditties. Today’s poem is written by the Hollywood actor, Woody Harrelson. He wrote the poem on social media, to a response to an Irish mother posting a picture of her daughter Cora, remarking on Cora’s resemblance to Woody.

Oh Woody! You’re delightful!

Those who dismiss you are just being spiteful.

I’ve enjoyed your many roles over the years.

But my favorite is when you were the bartender on Cheers.

On the show you fell for a girl who shares my name.

Listening to the song you wrote for her, I may never be the same.

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

Soul Sunday

Good morning. Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Every Sunday I try to inspire you to write some poetry and to share it. I rarely have anyone share their poems on the blog (except me), but I hope that you are still writing some poetry. It’s so good for your soul! Morgan Harper Nichols, the wonderful writer and musician, offers this way to get started on our own poetry, “the poetry of your life”:

“Places to find the hidden poetry of your life:

1. the last sentence of the last paragraph in your last journal entry

2. the words you meant to say just before you walked away

3. the words you use to describe the side character you wish had been a main character in the show

4. the way you talk about the strongest person you know

5. the way you explain why you said “I love you” that first time

6. the sentences you backspaced when you felt like you were just rambling

7. the last sentence of the long caption you wrote

8. the way you describe how you made it through something you never thought you would

Of course we are not going to find “hidden poetry” everywhere in everything, but I do believe the poetry in our lives is hidden in more places than we may realize.”

These are amazing prompts and ways to bring more creativity and soulfulness into your life. Give one or two of these writing ideas a chance today. You won’t be sorry. Poetry is cathartic.

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. Our intuitions have served us well. I am waking up in the only room left available in a fabulous, old inn listed on the National Historic Register. The hotel is in one of those towns that feels like it has always been home – one of those comfortable, feel good places, which in some ways feels like it has somehow always been a part of me, even though I have never been here before. I love this serendipitous feeling.

Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Atticus says it best:

Here is my poem for day. Take a moment today in which all you do is feel. Write a poem.

“The Well Beaten Path Back To Me”

I did not know where I was going so I let my soul take the wheel.

And it steered itself to where it could best be refilled, renewed and restored.

My soul always knows the way.

It has the wisdom of the sun and the stars and the knowledge that beats my heart.

Serendipity leads to serenity.

Soul Sunday

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

Good morning. My regular readers know that Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Poetry says things like no other form writing can. It evokes imagery, emotion, and thoughtfulness and it reminds us of our inner wisdom and power. I found a collection of excellent famous poems about the strength of women to share on the blog this morning. I think that this is apropos for this time period in history, don’t you? My belief is that our biggest superpower which all of we women possess is that we are continually underestimated. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

“We don’t dare to appreciate her
We don’t care to her feelings,
Nor her dreams.
She swallows her pride
To serve us might.” – Penpal

“You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.” – Maya Angelou

“But there’s wisdom in women, of more than they have known,
And thoughts go blowing through them, are wiser than their own.” -Rupert Brooke

poem by Nikita Gill

Soul Sunday

Good morning. Please use today to soothe your soul, to reset your batteries, to clean the windows to your perspectives, and to fill your heart with gratitude. That’s what Sundays are really good for – the “re-words” such as rejuvenation, reinvigoration, renewal, revitalization, refreshment, and restoration. All of these words suggest “making new”. Use Sunday to make new of what is old and tired and clouded and fading in you. ReSunday yourself. It will be a lovely way to start the week.

Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Poetry is mysterious, intimate, clever and open. Write some poetry today to help ReSunday yourself. You won’t regret it. Here is my poem for today:

“I Am A Witness“

I am old enough to have been a witness to a lot of things.

Perhaps this is the truest gift which our aging brings.

I am a witness to so much triumph over hurt and loss.

I am a witness to the intricate, such as a large rock covered in moss.

I am a witness to breathtaking natural beauty, day after day.

When I allow myself the time to watch the miraculous display.

I am witness to all of my own sensations,

I am witness to my feelings and frustrations.

I am the witness who feverishly writes it all down,

As my hair is graying, from its once rich brown.

It’s the witnesses who bring clarity to what has gone on,

Facts and perspectives, mixed and weighed upon.

So much time we play at being judge, jury and litigators,

When in truth, we are mostly natural witnesses and mitigators.

I am a watcher. I am a witness. I hear. I feel. I see.

Please share what you witness with yourself, and with me.

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

Soul Sunday

My husband came home from an important business trip on Friday. Our family’s schedule has been so clogged up. This week the calendar is finally starting to look like the days will flow into something a little more clear, manageable, and sensible. My husband said to me this morning that he hopes that it’s a rainy day today. There is something about rainy days that insist on your relaxation like no other kind of day. It appears quite sunny out right now, but there’s always hope for later in the day. As Sunday is devoted to poetry on the blog, this is one of the best poems ever written about rain:

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