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Posts from the ‘Poetry’ Category

Summer Prose

Warm Summer Sun by Mark Twain
Warm summer sun,
Shine kindly here,
Warm southern wind,
Blow softly here.
Green sod above,
Lie light, lie light.
Good night, dear heart,
Good night, good night.

June by John Updike

“The sun is rich
And gladly pays
In golden hours,
Silver days,

And long green weeks
That never end.
School’s out.
The time Is ours to spend.

There’s Little League,
Hopscotch, the creek,
And, after supper,
Hide-and-seek.

The live-long light
Is like a dream,
and freckles come
Like flies to cream.”

Enter the poetry of summer. The ease. The rest. The sun that lingers long. Write your day. Restore your soul.

Behold

“My heart is singing for joy this morning! A miracle has happened! The light of understanding has shone upon my little pupil’s mind, and behold, all things are changed!” – Anne Sullivan

“We become what we behold. We shape our tools and then our tools shape us.” – Marshall McLuhan

Notice the details in a single flower
Hear the birds composing a new song
Expand your soul where you stand in this moment
Less doing, more being present
Behold, embrace, be held.

“Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset.
Make my hands respect the things you have made and my ears sharp to hear your voice.
Make me wise so that I may understand the things you have taught our people.
Let me learn the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock.
I seek the strength, not to be greater than my brother/sister but to fight my greatest enemy- myself.
Make me always ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes.
So that all that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.
We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
ShneppeTEWI (Blessings)” – Miguel Quimichipilli Bravo

River and Harbor

“Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.” – Jorge Luis Borges


The river of your imagination, the harbor of your longing. Go there. Often.

Mornings at Blackwater by Mary Oliver
“For years, every morning, I drank
from Blackwater Pond.
It was flavored with oak leaves and also, no doubt,
the feet of ducks.
And always it assuaged me
from the dry bowl of the very far past.
What I want to say is
that the past is the past,
and the present is what your life is,
and you are capable
of choosing what that will be,
darling citizen.
So come to the pond,
or the river of your imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,
and put your lips to the world.
And live
your life.”

Live. Your. Life. Today.

Flow Not Force

“I find the great thing in this world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving: To reach the port of heaven, we must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it – but we must sail, and not drift, nor lie at anchor.” – Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

“Our attitudes control our lives. Attitudes are a secret power working twenty-four hours a day, for good or bad. It is of paramount importance that we know how to harness and control this great force.” – Irving Berlin

When the sails are release and the boat at the right angle, it captures the wind and creates energy from resistance. The sail can’t control the wind, it can only harness it and enter its flow. No force needed, harnessing the wind and transforming the collision of forces, from mechanics to magic.

Harness the wind, embrace the flow, glide with ease and delight.

Sailing
by Dorothy Allen

Swiftly cutting through the water,

Falling spray on either side,

Coyly dipping,

Rising, skipping,

Borne along by wind and tide,

Merrily my boat doth glide.

Oh, the sunlight, how it flickers,

Showering diamonds on the way!

Madly dancing,

Shining, glancing,

Slyly beckoning, come and play,

Be, like us, bright, free, and gay.

And I sing a song for gladness,

Send it echoing toward the sea;

I am happy,

Happy, happy!

Blow ye winds! Blow joyfully,

Nor sigh; but sing and laugh with me.

God’s Handwriting

“Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God’s handwriting.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“When you get to a place where you understand that love and belonging, your worthiness, is a birthright and not something you have to earn, anything is possible.” – Brene Brown

Listen up
You are enough
Right now, nowhere to go, nothing to do, no permission needed
You are beautiful inside and out

Look around
Take in the beauty of a sunrise, binding heaven to earth
Right now, nowhere to go, nothing to do, no permission needed
The sun remains in front and behind the clouds, unmoved

Head down
Root your feet in this place and time
Right now, nowhere to go, nothing to do, no permission needed
You are where you need to be so find the reason and let it unfold

Journey within
You are worthy
Right now, nowhere to go, nothing to do, no permission needed
You have arrived and will continue to unfold

Step back
Observe as a spectator and absorb only what is necessary to nurture, prune and prepare
Right now, nowhere to go, nothing to do, no permission needed
Seasons, rhythms, cycles promise full bloom, the transformation to butterfly

Enough, worthy and beautiful in this very moment
Return to yourself and allow God to do His work and you do your work
Right now, nowhere to go, nothing to do, no permission needed
God’s handwriting is within and all around. Let your story be completed by the author of life.

You are enough, worthy and beautiful.

“Acceptance looks like a passive state, but in reality it brings something entirely new into this world. That peace, a subtle energy vibration, is consciousness.” – Eckhart Tolle

Your Place in the Family of Things

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”

When you hit a dead end, turn around.
Lonely, reach out.
Tired, rest.
Hopeless, hope.
Lost, wander further.
Busy, stop.
Chaotic, meditate on this very moment alone.
Regret, move on and create no more new ones.
Caught in the past, no re-dos only lessons.
Worried about the future, focus on today, the foundation of the future.
Uninspired, read poetry and find your hiding soul, it’s there waiting to come out and play.

“You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.”

Where you are, right now, rejoice for the world offers itself to your imagination.
Your place is the family of things – you are needed, cast your light.

The Path

“The feeling remains that God is on the journey, too.” – Saint Teresa of Avila

Some of the path is paved. Much needs to be broken. May we keep moving down the path with our eye on moving through, moving on and reaching new destinations that come from forward motion. No looking back but only to not return. Eyes ahead, open to new paths, to new discoveries, to new self.

Journey Into The Interior
by Theodore Roethke

In the long journey out of the self,

There are many detours, washed-out interrupted raw places

Where the shale slides dangerously

And the back wheels hang almost over the edge

At the sudden veering, the moment of turning.

Better to hug close, wary of rubble and falling stones.

The arroyo cracking the road, the wind-bitten buttes, the canyons,

Creeks swollen in midsummer from the flash-flood roaring into the narrow valley.

Reeds beaten flat by wind and rain,

Grey from the long winter, burnt at the base in late summer.

— Or the path narrowing,

Winding upward toward the stream with its sharp stones,

The upland of alder and birchtrees,

Through the swamp alive with quicksand,

The way blocked at last by a fallen fir-tree,

The thickets darkening,

The ravines ugly.

Exclamat!on Po!nts!

i “If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly our whole life would change.” – Buddha

“The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity.” – Walt Whitman

What punctuation are you using to define your story? Commas, question marks, periods? How about weaving more exclamation points into the narrative of your daily life, especially right now in this very moment.

We pause and stop too soon, starting a sentence but not finishing the paragraph. Your story is not over yet. You have the pen so keep writing, first drafts, second drafts, final edits to launch.

If you need prompts, inspiration, watch the natural expression of flowers in full bloom, dancing with delight, in exclamation and celebration.

“The butterfly is a flying flower, the flower a tethered butterfly.” – Ecouchard Le Brun

Another Voice

“It doesn’t have to be

the blue iris, it could be

weeds in a vacant lot, or a few

small stones; just

pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try

to make them elaborate, this isn’t

a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak.”

Praying — Mary Oliver, Thirst

As we wander through this desert journey, pay attention. We long for the familiar oasis of certainty and the way it used to be. We are not going back and we will get through with hope, patience and resilience. Desert to oasis. Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday.

A few simple words of prayer allowing a “silence in which another voice may speak.” Listen.

Fresh Water

“Us sing and dance, make faces and give flower bouquets, trying to be loved. You ever notice that trees do everything to git attention we do, except walk?” – Alice Walker

“For man, as for flower and beast and bird, the supreme triumph is to be most vividly, most perfectly alive.” – D. H. Lawrence

No special occasion. No waiting on someone else. On the weekly grocery list. I buy flowers for myself like I buy lettuce. Nutrition for the soul to savor the fragrant brilliance found only in a party of fresh blooms. Each one unique, brimming with beauty. Showing off as they should. Unapologetic.

A florist once advised me that to make the flowers last longer, freshen the water daily. Solid advice for living too. Dump out the stale, clouded water and begin each day a new. Fresh water, fresh blooms.

 

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