Tag: poetry

Soul Sunday

I am heading out on an early morning boating excursion. My regular readers know that Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. I’m barely awake. My poem will arrive on the site later today, when the fog clears from my mind. In the meantime, please share your poems in my Comments section. And come back for my poem, later in the day, as you are slowly unwinding from the weekend. I’m sorry for the delay. Love, peace and health.

****Okay, it’s about 3:15 pm here in Florida today. Boating was cut a little short due to storms. If you typically find storms disturbing, while you are resting on your couch, in your safe, warm, snug home, I can assure you that watching lightning strike, while you are floating around in a boat (which is really just a teeny little dry hole, in a vast expanse of water), takes storm watching (and the uncontrollable shaking that comes from being frightened ) to a whole new level. Nonetheless, we got out safely. This 2020 year does not need, nor does it require, any more over the top excitement for us, nor for anybody else!!

Here’s my Soul Sunday poem, as promised. Where are yours poems???

Chin Up Buttercup

Chin Up Buttercup, stop lamenting on the bad news – virus outbreaks, breathless black men, toppled statues, death and sadness, puppy potty training going nowhere but wet, helplessness in a heap of overwhelming pile of unrest, pining away for seeing loved ones, arguments from too much togetherness, exhaustion from wondering where does this all lead . . . .

Where does this all lead? And what part do I play in it all? Am I doing everything I can?

Chin Up Buttercup, start focusing on the good news – vaccines in the works, healthy social change happening/long in coming, life and hope, happiness is a warm puppy snuggled in your arms, a greater Source to hand the pile of problems over to fix, amazing technology to keep loved ones close by, when you have people to argue with, all that really means is that you are not alone and you are all learning the beautiful virtues of patience and understanding, energy from curiosity that where this all leads will be truly . . . . .

WONDERFUL.

Chin Up Buttercup.

Everything’s going to be okay.

Soul Sunday

Happy Father’s Day!! I am blessed by the men in my life. As a woman, I understand that not everyone can say that, so I am utterly and completely grateful. New readers, Sundays are devoted to poetry. On Sundays, I either write a poem or share a poem written by someone else and I strongly encourage you to add your poems in my Comments section. I consider Sundays to be a poetry workshop day for us. There is no judgment, just creative wordplay and word flow. Please see previous Sunday posts for more poetry to feed your soul.

To My Husband and the Father of My Children

When I fell in love with you

We were just kids ourselves.

Now our own children are mostly grown.

Yet . . . .

With all of your accomplishments,

With all of your roguish competitiveness,

With all of your dreams and dedication,

There was never, ever a doubt in my mind,

That our family was the heart of it all, for you.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Soul Sunday

Good morning, friends. It’s a lovely sunny Sunday morning here which is so refreshing because we have had quite a bit of rain here lately. It makes me feel peaceful and hopeful. New readers, Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. On Sundays, I either share a poem I have written or I share a poem written by someone else. Please share your poetry with me and other readers, in the Comments section. Today’s poem is from a book of poetry by Kevin Anderson. I love his poetry because it follows the same format of adding to and thus, cleverly changing an original thought or idea, to something more profound. This poem is from the book Now is Where God Lives.

Don’t talk about great souls.

Don’t talk about great souls – become one!

Don’t talk about great souls.

Become one

with all.

Don’t talk about great souls.

Become one

with all

great souls who have embodied the Great Soul.

Soul Sunday

Hi friends. Welcome to Soul Sunday. My regular readers know and understand that Sundays are dedicated to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. I like to call it a poetry workshop. Most of the time, I write a poem or I reprint another author’s poem which has moved me. I strongly encourage my readers to share your own poetry in my Comments section. We don’t critique. We just share and enjoy, each other’s intriguing word play.

I was feeling a little abstract with today’s poem that I wrote. Here is my sharing for today. Please enjoy it and have a peaceful, beautiful day!

Epiphany

It appears that your true self has been leaking out of you, your whole life

But you never noticed the clues.

The power and the majesty and the synchronicities have left a trail

Of obvious and tantalizing bread crumbs

But you weren’t hungry enough to follow them, nor to realize,

that the crumbs created the clear pathway, to what you were always seeking.

Perhaps you were too distracted or perhaps you didn’t realize that the very diversions themselves,

Were actually what tied everything together into a fascinating, obvious conclusion.

You were leaving yourself your own hints, but you never knew that they applied,

to the greatest, most intriguing mystery of your life . . . . yourself.

Sunday Soul

Hi readers. I’m terribly sorry to be late posting today. Sundays are a big readership day for me and I appreciate that fact. I think people like poetry more than they pretend to like it. I’m late because I got myself involved in a “little” painting job this weekend. I decided to paint some window panes. The job seemed simple and painless, enough. Ha! I decided to complete the finishing touches this morning before the hot Florida sun baked even more dark bronze-y paint into my skin. I look like a leopard.

New readers, Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. Poetry is the unedited, free-flowing sounds of our souls. I already got my creative juices out by painting this morning, so I am going to reprint a poem today, that you may have seen already. The poem has gone viral and many believed that it was written by an author during the 1919 Pandemic. Alas, this is not true. It was actually written in March of 2020 by a chaplain from Wisconsin named Kitty O’Meara. It is untitled and it is beautiful. Please add your poems (your writings or someone else’s writings) to the Comments section. Here is the lovely words of a very much alive, Kitty O’Meara:

By Kitty O’Meara
And the people stayed home.
And read books, and listened, and rested,
and exercised, and made art, and played games,
and learned new ways of being, and were still.
And listened more deeply.
Some meditated, some prayed, some danced.
Some met their shadows.
And the people began to think differently.
And the people healed.
And, in the absence of people living in ignorant,
dangerous, mindless, and heartless ways,
the earth began to heal.
And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again,
they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images,
and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully,
as they had been healed.

Soul Sunday

“I should like, if I could, to leave a humble gift – a bit of chaste prose that had caught up some noble moods.” – Max Ehrmann

So yesterday I was going through some old books of mine and I found a lovely poem by the heralded author and poet, Max Ehrmann. This is an old poem. Ehrmann wrote it in 1927 and its worldwide popularity started around the 1950s, years after Ehrmann’s death. The poem is called Desiderata which is Latin for “things that are yearned for.” As my regular readers know, Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. Typically, I write a poem, or I find a poem by someone else that I want to share. I ask that you share your poetry in the Comments section. This is not a critique session. This is a safe outpouring of our feelings in the form of words. Please share. Your poems are precious gifts to yourself and to us. Today, my offering is just to share Desiderata by Max Ehrmann because the poem holds particular poignancy in times like these, especially.

Desiderata | Desiderata poem, Desiderata, Words

Soul Sunday

It struck me the other day that this is probably the first time in my life when I have actually felt more vulnerable due to my age. I’m approaching 50. This “dawning” was a middle age turning point for me. It was one of those awakening moments that reminded me that I really am headed into the autumn of my life. My heart goes out to you all who are in your 60s and beyond. It must be terrifying, at times, concerning the coronavirus. I feel for you.

Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. Please publish your poems in my Comments section. This is a poetry workshop, where we should all feel safe to share, our free flow of thoughts. Here’s my poem for the day:

The Trick

Who knew that we were all part of a fantastic illusion?

We were the white rabbits and the silk scarves,

in a grand sleight of the hand.

We thought that we were in on the trick,

Winking, knowing how the “magic” works.

We, as lovely assistants, sometimes smirked at the Magician,

Sneered at the fools in the audience,

Only to be brought to our knees,

By a horrific force, too tiny to even be seen.

Now we are all in this together,

Humbled by the unknown,

No longer wishing to just be entertained,

No longer full of pride and disdain,

Just praying for the real magic to fix this all,

In order for us to be wholly healed,

Sewing together all of our parts that have been sawed apart,

And for the trick to be over, so that the real magic can begin . . .

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?

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