Category Archives: a poem a day. Michigan poet

I AM A POEM


I am a poem of painted symbols, ancient wisdoms
Crafted visuals, words with rhyme and reason 
in the no reason at all in inky color prisms

Color frequencies, Pirate girls, mystic Mama
Bengali Tiger, peace, and love, vampire bites
dripping blood, Dante's Furies and wordless drama

A her-story of talisman, primal remembrances 
A needled rapture of yesterdays longing 
etched beneath my tender flesh in my transparence

Yes it hurt with a celebrated welcome
Leave that judge of yours off my skin
I am rich in story as it is my rebellion 

Poetry becomes me. It is a wound I choose to wear
Even tho' you may read me on my surfaces
It's to the heart of me that waits the deeper share

copyright  jeanne adwani 

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PANDEMIC SONNET


It is not for wondering if not why
How the quiet and lasting solitude
In shelter we place so much on 2Ply
Wiped out from groceries in great magnitude

When needing to wipe mean something new
Who ever knew that this loss could happen
The race for restocking such a boohoo
Puts a whole different hit on this shut-in

You figured the 2ply, now it's 'bout food
Will they deliver, or grab carry-out?
Decisions are messy in what to do   
Pandemic crisis create so much doubt

Priorities messy, really quite segued
Stay in and humble for others need you too
 
copyright jeanne adwani 

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It’s in the small kindnesses


It's in the small kindnesses
In the feeling heard, being seen
The way eyes meet and you know

It's in the acts of gratitude 
the gesture with no word attached
Of words that come from the heart

It's in the actions that speak
Louder than superfluous verbosity
full of empty promises.

It's in the giving that requires 
no receive, no laud, no fame
a welcome silence in the blare

It's in the doing nothing 
That that something finds it's way
to the surface that needs doing

It's in the know that you are there
on the other side of the world
across the street, in front of me

It's enough to feel that presence
surrounding me and that I am Loved
and held tenderly to your heart


  copyright jeanne adwani


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A Conspiritutorial


Conspiracy is an abundant playground
Endlessly resourced in cursory checks
and deep dives into a plethora of Global
storytelling and galactic superlatives
Full of truths and fictions quivering to 
fill the belly of our hungry need to know,
to find, to be assured that something,
anything might make sense out of the senseless 

Isn't it all a tease at our sensibilities?
Every bit of complaint and justifiable  
a wiggling finger at our ridiculousness, at 
our flagrant act of exaggeration gone rogue
Maybe at our simple desire to find a normal
in the clearly 'who the hell knows that anyway"
You're making it up as you go along aren't you?
You're creative like that in the 8 Billion of us
Making it up as the filters to your thinking
stretch and contract like water to ice
And then it all melts to a puddle at your feet

And what does it all matter anyway what your mind
conspires to when all around us is a puddle that
Is now an ocean and so many are drowning?
Drowning in the Storylines that hold us ransom
to partial truths and late night boozing.
Tossed into a murky sea of fake news and questionable
fact finding that someone can not wait to tag you in
FaceBook perfect and you're it, I promise
Gather you to the bosom of their brilliance 
Offer you the cult tee-shirt and the promise that
you are part of absolute clarity supremely 
You gave your Sovereignty away for what price?
Conspiracy . . .  Sign me up please and thank you
  
COPyright.  jeanne adwani

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When Pigs Fly on Joy Rd.


Day 2 napowrimo

I’m following a prompt given… writing about a specific place. I take this road a lot cause I love the scenery and Heck, it is called Joy Rd. after all.

It’s just up Prospect St.

Three smooth miles of road

Take a left on the dirt of Joy

Kitty corner from the Sheriff station

Feel the car’s tires hit every

Pitted pothole, and rutted out puddle

With the kinda rattle that shimmies

Those girl parts with a little thrill

Travels fast to the top of the head

And in repeat

`

You slow a little cause a rough

country road will tell you too

even when the raw edge of pleasure

tells you something else altogether

Your car will be better off for it

`

Winter strips down nature

Let’s you see through into the austere

gnarled foliage of how people

living in the country build their

domains away from the others

Tucked into the pines and the oaks

`

Maybe have a horse or two

Gather eggs from the chickens

Grow a field of life sustaining food

Fenced in their cloistered lives cause

They can out here on Joy Rd.

And I can slow drive for the thirtieth time

celebrating and breathing in a little country

`

Taking in all the something specials

A little Joy ride for a few miles

Bumping and nearly grinding along

Depending on the season

Depending on the mood rising

Depending on if you want to take

aback road to your destination

I always do.

`

I know that in a couple miles

of slow driving, and being a nosy posy

Looking for treasure on the side of this

winter battled dirt road,

There she stands

`

Lonely, beaten down over a few generations

Of living all countrified and productive

Now sitting on the edge of herself

paint pealing, boarded-up windowed

Porch trashed, roof leaking empty farm house

A barren womb of prosperity abandoned

`

The seasons have had their way with her emptiness

In their freeze and fire that weathered away at

how she once thrived and life filled Her.

Nature will feed on and take Her back to Herself

This Mother is a great Re-purposer when it comes to her own.

It’s how she loves her lost children

`

We face each other, lingering in silence

This ageless beauty sits with all her scars

Her brokenness, her abandoned safety

Her dying shell ever so slowing melding

back into the Earth mother that wants her

`

The austerity of Winter’s breath hangs

between us.

An old/new  sign sways on the fence

Maybe the last to tell her story

“Flying Pig Farm”

she flew that coup long ago.

`

copyright 2020, jeanne adwani

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FEAST ON THE SURRENDER


13 Nov. 2019

IMG_3474

Lean into the lonely places

Lay down with the shadow dancers

Listen deep into the old stories

   of imaged truths poured from

   the vessel of many yesterdays

~

Dosed in the blood of lineages

Down the drain of old hopes

Dictates passed down in the all around

    making a depository of other’s

    dreams and imaged forecasts

~

Held in the spaces of unrequited

Hid in the in-between of longing and yearn

Hold on to the thin cord of relationship

    for memories seek safe harbor in the

    stripping away what was never yours

~

Shed what was not the gift of you

Single out the spacious self’s dream

Silence the busy minds need to know

   for there is knowing in the quiet voice

   of the heart waiting for your listening

~

Feast on the surrender of release

Find comfort in the lonely places

Free up the impose of other’s dreams

   as you feel the fullness of finding yourself

   unfolding perfectly as you are

   

   

   

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Filed under a poem a day. Michigan poet, BE HERE NOW, full moon, Geezer Girl, jeanne adwani, Jeanne Beauchamp, Uncategorized

CIRCLES AND LINES


29 april 2019

circle and lines

~

Circles and Lines

~

Unity lives in the Circle

A sense of connection

A field of nurturance

Guided by the moment

Living in the what’s real

Held to the rule of flow

~

A mandala of prayer

Hand to hand to hand

Heart to heart to heart

Linked together in common

With uncommon ways

finding the Way

~

A line stretches out

May move and weave

In it’s lateral expression

It has a plan, an action

An intent to conclusion

Bound in stated process

~

Straight goes this Way

Inclusion set to strict modality

A paradigm steeped in rightness

Too long holding the reign

This line needs a new paradigm

Inclusion calls for flow

~

And so we go, circles and lInes

Lines and circles in need

Of each other in the paradox

Of how one holds the other

In the differences and sameness

The line runs cold without Circle

~

Time, timelessness, yearns

for flow in the Circle glow

Rising together to heal the line

drawn between us for so long

United are we when we circle up

Sovereign each, connected to flow

~

cc… jeanne adwani

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WHAT WONDER IS THAT?


27 April 2019

ALICE

~

Wonder has magic in it 

That mystery of not yet knowing

In the wide eyed, bright eyed

Mischief that lives in the question

~

Of Wonder why, wonder how

Wonder when, wonder what

In the living day lights is That

Glitch in the fabric of the Universe

~

That shimmering, quivering

Anomaly of patterns you thought

Could not possibly shape shift

Into a new paradigm

~

The check list of what is, isn’t

What isn’t, is, and then nothing

You feel into the ‘all fucked-up-ness’

And wonder, what will happen next

~

Or is the deceive of your eyes, 

The betrayal of your mind

The crack in your wanting heart

Leading you down Alice’s hole

~

There will be dinner with The Rabbit

And that Queen with no Heart

Will march you more deeply into

The fantasy cause she wondered

You into Being

~

CC  jeanne adwani

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TWILIGHT’S MESSENGER


Day 7, NaPoWriMo.net

~

CELESTIAL PAINTING

TWILIGHT’S MESSENGER

~

The whisper is louder

moving from dreamtime

moving from the way

twilight sleeps starts

the call in the waking

~

Filling cells and senses

Live streaming through

veins and capillaries

Pumping the heart in a

yet unknown intention

~

Of blood red morphing

into colour and light

Full spectrum momentum

ready to pull the arrow head

to its intended mark

~

It takes paying attention

in this quiet space between

the worlds of remembrance

and the whisk away of

forget

~

Laying the images and story

on to the blank slate of consciousness

Letting this whisper state of being

graduate to that wider awareness

of waking up to that ‘Ah Ha’

~

Whatever guidance whispers

within twilight sleep’s call

into your dreaming ears

fills your breath with wisdom

calls your heart to ache with

the want of a new understanding

~

It is yours to remember

~~

…cc jeanne adwani

~~~

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Nature Spirits are Seen


Day 5.. NaPoWriMo  New Moon in Aries

A Villanelle.  A french form of poetry that I feel compelled to try.  A first time dive.

The first line I choose to begin this poem is from the Astrological Sabian Symbol for this New Moon.

It spoke to me.  I read it on www.mysticmamma.com.   A worthy site for following the Lunation of the Moon

ftom thedeck1

~

Nature Spirits are seen in the Light of Sunset

A finger snap out of the shadows dancing

Soften your eyes to the magic to see what you get

~

Quick in our ways of busy we forget

In child like wonder lives this remembrance

Nature Spirits are seen in the Light of Sunset

~

All hail to a heart wide open to be Spirit met

On the horizon in the forest light seen

Soften your eyes to the magic to feel what you get

~

In the meadows and gardens they set

Among the blooms of flower scent

Nature Spirits are seen in the Light of Sunset

`

Oh to be of a child’s mind in no regret

Of  joy and innocence with eyes wide open

Soften Your eyes to the magic to see what You get

~

Surrender, receive with innocent eyes re-set

Take in the Sunrise for recalibrated refresh

Soften your eyes to the magic to see what you get

Nature Spirits are seen in the Light of Sunset

~~~

** cc Jeanne adwani

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05/04/2019 · 9:53 am