Tag: soul sunday

Soul Sunday

I adore Sunday mornings. I’m starting to think that they are almost as good as Fridays, and I LOVE Fridays. Play around with poetry today. Read it, write it, live it. Poetry allows us to read and to write secret messages to ourselves. It helps us to unravel the mysteries of life, as noticed particularly and uniquely by us. Poetry is powerful. My poem for today is below one of the many definitions of poetry, found in the dictionary.

“Felt Ear”

Why have we given contented a bad name?

A soft felt ear of a dog, lying and folding so delicately

in my hand, as I peer out into the sunlit stillness,

noticing no sudden movements nor longing to be anything

or anywhere but here. When we forget to be content,

we miss all of the beauty which we are building on,

and sometimes carelessly tearing down.

Every virtue has its shadow. Desire expands, as passion pulls

us outward but contentedness gives us the centering

to pull back in to what matters most. A soft felt ear . . .

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 Wednesday, we have a Blue Moon. It’s not actually blue, it’s just the name for the rare occurence of two full moons in one month. The second full moon in any one month is called a blue moon. Make a wish, and put it into poem form today. Once in a blue moon, wishes do come true, in the most magical of ways. Here is my poem for today:

The Sunday stillness feeds my soul,

The quiet sunlit room hears only an occasional

sigh from a tired, warm, rug of a dog, bathing in the light.

The plants outside of the window slightly sway,

to the gentle rhythm of an imperceptible breeze,

it all creates the peaceful symphony of tranquility,

that I soak in: pure, satiating nourishment for my spirit.

I hear my soul chanting: All is well. All is well. All is well.

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.

Soul Sunday

Welcome to poetry day on the blog. Our two middle sons moved to new apartments recently and so, as we mothers do, I sent them a reminder text to change their mailing addresses on the post office’s website. I wrote, “Hi boys. Please remember to change your addresses on the post office’s website.” Two hours later, I had an aha moment. Our sons are not “boys.” Our sons are fine young men of the ages of 25 and almost 23. I sent a new text to them, correcting my error, and telling them that I should not have called them “boys”. I proudly see what amazing men they are turning out to be. But, fellow parents, let’s be real. If I am honest with myself, our sons will always be my little baby boys (and our daughter will always be my precious little baby girl) and so when I read this poem, shared below, this past week, I thought to myself, “Wow, Robert Hershon nailed it. He just nailed it.” I think that there is nothing more fulfilling in any creator’s heart than when we have written/sang/painted/photographed, etc. something and we get this proud knowing feeling that says, “Damn, I just nailed it.” Try nailing one of your passions today (maybe even nail art?), and give yourself that satisfactory feeling of savoring it.

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. May today feel like you are immersed in your own poetry.

I’ve been a little under the weather the last few days with a bug, and I’ve noticed that the strange blessing of feeling unwell is that it slows you down enough to notice things that you normally wouldn’t notice. The other day, after a big rainstorm, the sun was catching the raindrops on our screened lanai and made them dazzle in their reflection on the pool. I was so intrigued that I took a video of it.

After Many Springs by Langston Hughes

Now,
In June,
When the night is a vast softness
Filled with blue stars,
And broken shafts of moon-glimmer
Fall upon the earth,
Am I too old to see the fairies dance?
I cannot find them any more.

Readers, I am happy to report that I am not too old to see fairies dance in June. Are you?

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

Soul Sunday

Happy Father’s Day! We have a lot of plans for the next 48 hours, so tomorrow’s post won’t be happening until late in the afternoon. (please don’t worry, late is better than never) Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. “Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.” — Percy Bysshe Shelley This is my poem for my husband today:

I always knew that you’d make a great Dad.

You’re the perfect mix of who I’d want our boys to be,

And making our daughter feel so loved and protected,

That she’ll accept nothing less for herself,

because you have shown her the way it feels to be adored.

You have made so many of my dreams come true,

This beautiful family which we have co-authored,

Tells the story of the greatest of these dreams.

Three men and a baby girl, ours to treasure for eternity.

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

Soul Sunday

Good morning. Yesterday we launched another baby into the big, bad world. Our youngest son moved out of the house, and he starts his first “real” job on Monday, since graduating from college. Our youngest son has epilepsy, and he has experienced a lot of ups and downs throughout his young life, until we figured out a combination of medications that work to keep him seizure free. Readers, please let’s agree to keep all of our beautiful children in our shared nightly good thoughts and prayers. That thought gives me a great deal of comfort. Our children and grandchildren are the future. Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Here is my poem for today:

Moon’s in Sagittarius

Last night was our shared full moon,

my blue-eyed baby with your angel kiss.

It filled the dark skies with thrill for June,

And hopefully many more months of bliss.

You are ready. Launch your arrows into the sky.

I can’t wait to see where they may land.

Don’t be afraid to fail. Just try. Just fly.

And when you feel unsure, know my heart’s in your hand.

You are raised. You are a man. You’re up to the task.

You’ve overcome so much in your young life already.

So, in the light of these triumphs, remember to bask.

Stay focused, stay true, stay strong, and stay steady.

When you look at the night sky and peer at the moon,

Remember that we both gaze at the same one,

Take it day by day, while humming to your own tune,

I love you and I’m proud of you, my dear blue-eyed son.

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

Soul Sunday

This quote below is poetic enough for Soul Sunday (a day that we devote to poetry on the blog.) When worded just right, the shortest of statements can hold a volume of poignancy and emotion that would otherwise get leaked and lost in unnecessary ramblings. “Unknown” is perhaps one of the greatest wordsmiths of our time.

None of us truly knows who/what we would die for (no matter what we think, or what we casually and dramatically declare), until we are actually faced with the ultimate, dire choice. Thank you, fallen soldiers. Thank you for your last breaths. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

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