Tag: Sunday Soul

Soul Sunday

Good morning. I became a big fan of Jane Marczewski, also known as “Nightbirde” when a friend shared a video of Nightbirde’s performance on America’s Got Talent. Nightbirde was an extremely talented singer and songwriter who performed so movingly and remarkably well on the show, that she got “the golden buzzer” from Simon Cowell. (no small feat for anyone who knows the show). Nightbirde bravely and beautifully performed her own song, “It’s OK” while she was dying of breast cancer. She passed away from cancer in February of 2022. It turns out that Nightbirde’s family found that Nightbirde had written notebooks full of poems during her fight with cancer and they are publishing some of these poems as a book of poetry this fall. Simon Cowell has written the introduction of the book and all of the proceeds from the book sales will go to Nightbirde’s foundation which is dedicated to helping women with cancer. Poems for the Dark by Nightbirde can be pre-ordered here: https://nightbirdefoundation.shop/products/poemsforthedark

I don’t have a poem of my own to share today, but I do want to share this famous poem, “Metaphors”, by Sylvia Plath. (Read the poem now before reading the rest of my explanation. See if you understand its meaning.) Plath wrote this poem about being pregnant. What is particularly clever and amazing about this poem is that it contains 9 lines, 9 syllables each and even the title has 9 letters. She did these formats as a “metaphor” for the traditional 9 months of pregnancy. Poetry is often cryptic, clever, and full of riddle. Try your own hand at cryptic, clever, and riddling. Surprise yourself with your mysterious, sly side.

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

Soul Sunday

We have two of our sons with us this weekend which “magically” coincided with some delivery of outdoor furniture that needs to be assembled. (ha!) Anyway, my attention is diverted this weekend, so for this day of poetry on the blog, I am going to share some lovely words of Walt Whitman’s, who is considered to be one of America’s greatest poets ever. Walt Whitman loved our country. He called America “a teeming nation of nations” and “A grand, sane, towering, seated Mother.” I wonder if he would question her sanity today? Today’s poem is an excerpt from Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman:

“I am larger, better than I thought; I did not know I held so much goodness.

All seems beautiful to me.

Whoever denies me, it shall not trouble me;
Whoever accepts me, he or she shall be blessed, and shall bless me.”

Walt Whitman famously said this: “I am as bad as the worst, but, thank God, I am as good as the best.”

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

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.