poetry workshop Archives - Page 6 of 15

Soul Sunday

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

Good morning friends. It is a gorgeous morning here. My husband is biking, my daughter is doing a beach clean-up for one of her high school clubs (tough work – ha!) and I have the quiet, sensuous morning all to myself, here at the house. Even our three dogs are lazily lounging in their own spots in the sun. I am basking in this moment, because everything feels right in my world, and it reverberates throughout my entire being. I wish the same for you.

I’ve been in a particularly sentimental mood this weekend, for reasons unknown. Our moods come in and out with the tides sometimes. My regular readers know that I devote the blog to poetry on Sunday. I wrote this poem, about this precious plant of ours, which I only starting pondering about yesterday, because a plant enthusiast friend of mine, and myself, were sharing pictures of our various plants with each other. Sometimes the most meaningful, reliable, steadfast things in our lives, are so easy to take for granted. This green beauty fully deserves her own poem.

“Our Philodendron”

You’ve been so easy to keep,

So hardy and resilient and adaptable,

Quietly going along for the ride,

Always just a trinket in the background,

Living in three states and at least a half a dozen houses.

You came to us in a beautiful celebration basket,

One we could scarcely afford.

We were embarking on a new, unknown adventure,

Another one we could scarcely afford.

You marked the start of our family,

Almost twenty-six years ago.

You adorned our baby’s nursery,

In the same elephant embellished pot,

That still firmly holds you in place right now.

You are vibrant, colorful and full of growth and life.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Beautiful, steadfast, Green Goddess that you are,

Let my tears of grateful joy, nourish your robust roots,

So that you may continue to thrive and to be a living symbol,

Of what truly is the heartfelt center of my very soul.

Soul Sunday

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

Happy Super Bowl Sunday!!! There is something poetic about a day that almost all of our country gets at least a little bit excited about experiencing. Even if you don’t love football, there’s the food, the camaraderie, the rivalry, the half-time show and of course, my personal favorite, the commercials!! There is no other day in the year that I look forward to commercials. That’s what makes Super Bowl Sunday so special.

My regular readers know that Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Poetry is the language of our deeper depths. There is no other form of writing that marries your own personal projections, with the words that you are reading more than poetry does. In that sense, every poem that you read, is completely personal to you. Every poem is yours.

Here is my poem for today. I was inspired to write it from a picture I took yesterday when we were boating.

The dream journal states that water is the symbol of your deepest emotional depths,

And the sky is the symbol for the infinite and the sublime, the start of Heaven’s steps,

So on the days, when it is difficult to fully discern and yet, to try

To understand what scarcely separates the tranquil water from the mystifying sky,

These are the days of the calmest, sweet ecstasy, known to life on Earth.

Days when the experience leads to a profound Knowing and yet also to mirth.

These are the days of holy wholeness, when all separation disappears.

And the peaceful wisdom of the depths and the heights, clears one of all of her fears.

“Our minds create everything: the beautiful mountaintop, brilliant with snow, is yourself when you contemplate it.”
~ Tich Nhat Han

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

“Some people are museums of little things that matter.” – ghost @dead poet ______ (Twitter)

I love this quote. We all know people like this, don’t we? These are people who have a knack of putting neat little touches on anything and everything. Or these are the people who know just the right words to say, or the things to do, just at the right time. I have always said that I want this blog to be a sweet little museum of thought and ideas. I like being a curator of “things that make you go hmmm.” I like being a curator of little thoughts that can make a big difference. I like being reminded of the little things that matter.

With that thought in mind, Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog and I have discovered a new (new to me, anyway), interesting, spicy new poet. He’s a little profane and to the point, which makes his poetry so good. My amazing aunt, who has been a wonderful supporter of my blog, since day one, recently told me that she likes all of the different “voices” which I bring to the blog. She was paying me a kind compliment, but I, of course, had to make the joke that the blog’s different “voices” all come from my multiple personalities (you know, all of the little voices in my head 😉 ). Today, I celebrate the naughty, edgy side of my personality, by sharing this poet’s work. If you prefer to keep Sundays sweet and holy, perhaps it is best to read Jonny Ox’s poetry, tomorrow.

Jonny Ox | Words, Daily affirmations, Quotes

Jonny Ox — Just in case you don't know what's happening,...

Someone should knock on common sense's door and make sure that fucker's still aLIVE. -Jonny Ox - America's best pics and videos

There is enough pain in the world nd those of us who recognize it are obligated not to cause a@ single drop more -jonny ox - America's best pics and videos

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. Welcome to the poetry day on the blog. I’m pretty direct when I speak my opinions. What you see is what you get, with me. So, writing a poem is sometimes hard for me. Poetry leans towards more mystery, intuition, and what the readers, themselves, bring to the poem. Poetry is like a painting. What it means to one person, can be interpreted entirely different by another person. It’s brave to write poetry. Poetry requires dropping some masks. Drop a mask today. Write a poem. You won’t regret it. Here’s my poem for the day:

The Starting Block

The starting gate is a little jammed, my friend.

But you’ll get through it in the end.

You want to run through with a clear mind and strong heart,

So that may mean mulling and resting before you start.

The solid, broad finish line will always be there,

but is the ending, really where you should put all of your care?

The journey is made of many new races,

Full of new things, and faces and places.

You’re eager to start a fresh, new race to the finish,

Having run many races, your fears are diminished.

But remember that each race that you run has its own unique gift.

Take your time. Take your pause. Don’t let yourself go adrift.

The starting gate is starting to break free to open itself wide.

To go beyond it, let your deepest innateness be your guide.

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. Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. (and believe it or not, you like poetry. Soul Sunday is a popular day on the blog. “Shakespeare’s a poet and doesn’t know it.” 😉 ) Today, let yourself live from your heart and from your soul. Give your analyzing mind a break. It’s Sunday. Follow your heart today. See where it leads you. A poem is a good way to start this. Here is my poem for the day:

“Amalgamation”

If I could take a gift from each of my decades,

to carry me into this new year of my life,

I would take the determined tree climbing of my childhood,

the breezy presumption of health and beauty of my twenties,

the wild rebelliousness and pride and confidence of my thirties,

the rugged, steely, determined resilience of my forties,

And I would dose all of these attributes with care and love,

And transform all of them into the best version of me yet.

An amazing amalgamation of a life experienced openly from the heart.

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

Good morning. Welcome to Soul Sunday. Sunday is the day for poetry on the blog. I started reading a lot of Pearl Jam’s song lyrics before deciding to write my own poem today. It is fair to say that musicians are really poets, who just happen to know how to sing. Eddie Vedder has written some deep stuff in his life. So, I surprised myself when I started doodling my own poem and it turned out to be silly and quirky and fun. That’s what is great about playing around with poetry. You surprise yourself a lot. Write a poem today. Just do it. Surprise and delight yourself. Here is my goofy little ditty for today:

“The Pet Peeve”

There once was woman named Old Mrs. Leave

Who had a huge dog, she appropriately named “Peeve”

She fed him a lot, so he grew and he grew

His favorite thing to do,

was to sit and to stew,

Just like his owner.

Mrs. Leave spent all of her time and focus on Peeve,

To think of anything else, she just couldn’t conceive.

Peeve became a nasty, monstrous beast.

He was snarly and angry, to say the very least.

What is the moral of this poem I released?

“Don’t be a moaner.”

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

Soul Sunday

RIP Anne Rice

I’m sorry for the delay in publishing today. We are all fine. I’m just distracted. Much like I am the ultimate impulse shopper, I am also the ultimate clickbait queen, on the internet. And to think, I have the nerve to make fun of our Labrador, Ralphie, when he chases the glimmering reflections of light on the floor, from the sunlight coming through our chandelier. (If you ever have a blindspot to your own behavior, look to what you criticize and/or poke fun about others, and then look for that trait in yourself. If you put down your guard, you will find it. Ugh.)

Since I got so busy going down the rabbit hole of clickbait, I am not in my writing mode. So instead, I started scrambling looking for poems that I liked (since Sunday is poetry day on the blog), written by other people, to share with you all, and I just finally landed on one that I like. Below is a fun poem by the author Brian Bilston, from his collection, You Took the Last Bus Home.

Write a poem, today. Play with words. Play with punctuation. Let your inner creator come out today. Play! Play?!? Play. Play . . . . .

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