soul sunday Archives - Page 9 of 21 - Adulting: Second- Half

Soul Sunday

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

Even still today, there never seems to be adequate words for this day. There is this beautiful poem though, written in 2001, by a New York journalist named Kevin Powell. This poem is called “September 11th: A Poem,” I think that this poem is fittingly beautiful for a poetry day, here on the blog .

Might it be, as my mother said to me on this ugly, sinful day,

That the world is on its last go-round?

Hijacked wild birds strip the sky of its innocent morning breath

Steel towers crumple like playing cards on an uneven metal table

Unrehearsed screams we dare not hear leap from windows

Into the open, bottomless palms of God

I cannot stand to watch life reduce

Itself to powdery dust and soot lathering the devil’s inflamed mouth

But I am fixated on the television anyhow:

Is this what slavery was like?

Is this what the holocaust was like?

Is this what famine is like?

Is this what war is like?

Is this how you felt, dear mother, when King and the two Kennedys were killed?

I want to stitch up the sky, deny humans the right to fly

Cry until my tears have washed hatred

From the mildewed underarms of history

And I want to say to the firemen

Ah, yes, the firemen:

Your husband, your father, your brother, your uncle, your friend

Thank you for speeding to the end of

Your time and thank you for showing us that

Courage is a soul so unselfish it would

Scale a collapsing building to liberate a stranger

Even as your blood relatives wonder if you are alive —

From the remains of this madness

I detect a heartbeat called life

From the remains of this madness

I smell an aroma called love

From the remains of this madness

I embrace a body called humanity

From the remains of this madness

I construct a dream called hope

From the remains of this madness

I will ride the wings of the deceased

Into the clouds, scribble their names on the sun

Erect a memorial to the moon, chant the blues

For New York City, then resurrect a world

Where a new-born rose will jut through the broken concrete.

Soul Sunday

When I travel, I enjoy seeing historic buildings and unusual terrain. I love partaking in different kinds of food and celebrations. I get inspired by clothing styles which are unique to an area. I am amazed at all of the landscapes and creatures which are different than what I am used to seeing. I love experiencing an overall ambience that is entirely unique to itself. I suppose I would say I like to get to know the rhythm and the poetry of where I am staying. Every place has its perfect poetry embedded in its DNA. Here is a poem which was left on a card at one of the lovely places we have stayed in on this current trip. It was meant for Soul Sunday, the day devoted to poetry on the blog.

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

“A poet’s work (is) to name the unnamable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it from going to sleep.” – Salman Rushdie

Welcome to poetry day on the blog. Sundays are devoted to the songs of our souls – poetry. Lately, I have been really moved by other people’s poems, so I haven’t been writing my own. I have two poems to share with you, written by other poets which I think are excellent works of words. I miss writing poems though, too. I think that I will work on some poetry this week. I hope that you will, too. Please share your poems in my Comments section. Have a poetic, idyllic end to the weekend.

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

Good morning. Welcome to poetry day on the blog. Earlier this week, when I was driving and listening to my playlist, a song came on that I hadn’t listened to in a long while. It is so soulful and deep and beautiful and when I got home, I wrote on the calendar that this song is a perfect one for a Sunday post. Sean Rowe wrote this song for his son, speaking of the fervent need for people to leave something of timeless meaning to this world before departing it. Sean is a folk singer, whose style is similar to Bob Dylan’s style. Here are the beautiful, poetic lyrics to “To Leave Something Behind” by Sean Rowe:

I cannot say that I know you well
But you can’t lie to me with all these books that you sell
I’m not trying to follow you to the end of the world
I’m just trying to leave something behind

Words have come from men and mouse
Oh, but I can’t help thinking that I have heard the wrong crowd
When all the water is gone my job will be too
So I’m trying to leave something behind

Oh, money is free but love costs more than our bread
And the ceiling is hard to reach
Oh, the future ahead is broken and red
And I’m trying to leave something behind

This whole world is a foreign land
We swallow the moon, but we do not know our own hand
Oh, we’re running with the case, but we ain’t got the gold
Yet we’re trying to leave something behind

My friends, I believe we are at the wrong fight
And I cannot read what I did not write
I’ve been to his house, but the master is gone
Yet we’re trying to leave something behind

Now there is a beast who has taken my brain
You can put me to bed, but you can’t feel my pain
When the machine has taken the soul from the man
It’s time to leave something behind

Oh, money is free but love costs more than our bread
And the ceiling is hard to reach
Oh, the future ahead is already dead
And it’s time to leave something behind

Now, I’ve got this feeling that I’m still at the shore
And pockets don’t know what it means to be poor
I can get through the wall if you give me a door
So I can leave something behind

Oh, wisdom is lost in the trees somewhere
Oh, you’re not gonna find it in some mental gray hair
It’s locked up from those who hurry ahead
And it’s time to leave something behind

Oh, money is free but love costs more than our bread
And the ceiling is hard to reach
When my son is a man, he will know what I meant

When I was just trying to leave something behind
And I’m trying to leave something behind

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. I am getting a late start this morning. I’m meandering today. I’ve been easily distracted and I think that is a good way to be, on a gentle Sunday Morning. Sundays = Poetry Day on the Blog. PD on the B. You know me. Rap and Hip Hop are full of good poetry. If traditional poetry isn’t your thing, look up the lyrics of some of your favorite Hip Hop songs. Mastery. Genius, really.

If you are into traditional poetry, Walt Whitman is considered to be one of America’s foremost poets. Perhaps his most famous poem is “Song of Myself”. Here is just one small part of this epic poem:

“Not I, not anyone else can travel that road for you.

You must travel it by yourself.

It is not far. It is within reach.

Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know,

Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.”

Write a poem to yourself about the song of yourself. Write a poem about your unique journey on the road of your life. You won’t regret it. You’ll get to know yourself even better and isn’t that where “the road” is supposed to lead anyway?

“If I told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you trust it?” Kendrick Lamar – Poetic Justice

“You know it’s funny when it rains it pours, they got money for wars but can’t feed the poor.” 2Pac – Keep Ya Head Up

“I’m not a businessman, I’m a business, man.” Jay-Z – Diamonds from Sierra Leone (Remix)

“I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death.” Nas – NY State of Mind

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 I devote Sundays to poetry on the blog. I don’t have a poem today. I don’t have a poem in any way. I’m not sharing one I wrote. But what I have, is wrote in quote. Poets don’t always write in rhyme – for that, they don’t always have the time. Sometimes poets just really have wise things to say, and so that is what I am sharing with you today.

“I have never started a poem whose end I knew. Writing a poem is discovering.” – Robert Frost

“Poetry is the clear expression of mixed feelings.” – W. H. Auden

“If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.” – Emily Dickinson

“A picture is a poem without words.” – Horace

“Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history.” – Plato

“If poetry and the arts do anything, they can fortify your inner life, your inwardness.” – Seamus Heaney

“A poet looks at the world the way a man looks at a woman.” – Wallace Stevens

“To have great poets, there must be great audiences.” – Walt Whitman

Thank you for being my great audience, readers. I love you. Have a blessed, poetic Sunday. <3 (Write a poem. Discover the ending. Make sense of your mixed feelings. Blow your own mind, or perhaps just take a photo and see the poetry in it. Find the vital truth that only your deepest inwardness knows. Fall in love with yourself through your words. You are a great poet, even if the only audience is yourself. <3 )

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