Category Archives: a poem a day. Michigan poet

IN THE STILLNESS SHE IS MOST LOUD


 

In the stillness she is most loud

Singing and dancing in the quietude

Pleased with how it is her best kept secret

Where she keeps all of her whimsy and need

All of her rage and discontent

All of her wisdom and magic

It’s where she gives voice to herself

~

She doesn’t bother with those that

Out-loud above everyone else

Those that drown her out

in their righteous verbosity,

wall-flowering her against invisible walls

and into shadow corners

Those big selves all puffed up,

swilling words of lazy drivel

as if they are the elixir

of life.

~

In the stillness the best of her resides

in the vast landscape built on dreams and

and possibilities of how imagining everything

can have a place in her everywhere

in the ease of her inner eye

and her vocal heart

always feeling in on the look out

~

In the stillness she is most loud

avoiding the surrounding ease of chaos

in the overwhelm and consume of the

bantering and battling with

Ego fervor and fuck you’s

that breed more hallowed emptiness

in the presence of so much abundance.

~

She doesn’t bother with the noise anymore

Settled into the oasis of her inner

knowing, calm in the waiting

for her time when stillness and peace

Unity and love, a good earth and water

is what the starving masses hunger for

and the revolution of the heart in it’s

deep wisdom is the loud voice calling

~~

This is copyright.  please share appropriately.  thank you

 

~~

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SPEAKING TRUTH OUT LOUD


 

adams mout hurrican

A stone settleS in my throat

from the long ago of

when children were seen

Not to be heard

Sitting around the Thanksgiving

table of abundance and belly full.

All the voices to be heard took

the air out of the room

We found our breath

in the light of the Kitchen away from

the weight of stories of futures

that had no relevance to our playground

of untapped dreams and magic.

~

We were but the reflection

of Family’s prayers and hopes

in the right to story us as they deemed fit

into what they could never be only

in their hopes and dreams.

and how the should of us

got should on.

~

The stone became a river pebble

as years came in to self awakening,

in the wandering and the wondering

where truth could flow and be shared

and the myth of who should be what

and who should be where in the familial

continuum container.

It came slow to dissolve

into the intent of self-resolve.

The claiming proclamation of;

I am not that story you gave me

I am not that silenced voice of your making

I am a voice rising in my fullness.

I am All that I am and you can not should me.

~

The stone is a clear crystal amplification

of  Sovereignty Out loud in the Queendom of self

The illuminated voice of chanting in union with Love

and the proclamation of fearless intent to Be heard

in the Complex ease and hard softness of claiming

all and every word that needs saying.

~

I amplify in the Stillness of All that I am

I am a crystal clear voice of paradox

I am Sacred in all my Creative forms

I am she Who Speaks her truth Out Loud.

 

 

~~~

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CHOSEN


 

white pine forest

What is it to be chosen?

Pulled through a portal rife

Same to same and different

Breath has returned steady

and the heart beats back to itself.

~

Eyes track slow left to right

noticing how a forest looks like a forest

And the sun dapples the green

in shadow and light.

Senses rush to meet the moment

in this awakening

~

With trees that smell like

sunrise and baked bread

and a sky that fills your nose

with the smell of mown grass

and sweet honey

~

Birds give their song to wings

That sing in the wind, tree to tree

A squirrel fills your mind with

forest talk of nuts and fruit and

that water is down that path

and just over the hill.

~

Innocence has no answers

to this same and different.

Leaning alone against

this old tree that purrs like a cat

and fills the shock with the tender

comfort of a mother’s lullaby.

~

Caroline pushes her body against

the tree letting the comforting resistance

pull her wobbly legs to a stand.

“That way” fills her mind and

the feel of bark pushes her forward.

~

~

~

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TAKEN


 

SHADOWTREE4

me n’ my shadow

Like stiff arms wanting

Rough bark pulls at my coat

It pulls at my leather boots

it pulls at my heavy silk dress

lacing the weave of roots around

my thin legs.

~

It pulls in a hungry way

Like me being soft food

melting into the roughness

Silencing the scream that

leafs into my mouth

full of green and twig

The choke of it fills me with new life,

in the absorb of ancient familiar

There is no fight. No flight

turning to wood, to root, to bark

~

In the distant call of a name

I know to be a dozen lifetimes ago

Eyes blurring in a cave of

squirrel and nuts

And in the scent of forest wood,

laid to mossy green on the spike

carpet of rusty needles

Pine to Earth meets to the  surrender

all that was once of me.

 

~~~~

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23 Dec. 2017

Todays blog includes a friend/author of mine, with the pseudo name, A.M. Salt.  We will be sharing my blog for the next month or so.  Enjoy our different styles, our different ways we find ourselves calling up the words that feel like they need saying.

snow ponies

WHAT WE IMAGED

EMPTY PRESENCE

Vast is the presence of the infinite
Empty in the unknown
Spacious beyond comprehension

Waiting for a message
Fingertips poised for the tap
The mundane gathers the call

Waiting for the whisper of a gift
Feeling the sureness of words
That the cosmos will deliver

Hard is the buzz of the amour stink bug
In the immediacy of the invite
Hidden in the folds of the curtains

The winged buzz threatens a landing
Breaking into Empty presence
A thief of the silent waiting.

Hands and arms flapping it away
Utterances of unkindnesses
Knowing the creepy feel of that crawl

The awareness now seeks to awaken
This traveler that meets the intrusion
with resistance and a curse

What say you armored bug?
Gift me with your presences
Share the vastness of this Now

I give you freedom in winter chill
As the last bit of life of you
Speaks to the One Heart

In the Empty presence of
The vastness that is in All
Wisdom is in everything

Jeanne Adwani

* * * * * * * *

If I ever forget
the trout that rose
behind the biggest stone
in the middle of the stream
near Whitefish
the year that just my Mother and I
went to fish camp

Remind me, would you?

Its snout surfaced
to take a Blue Olive
drifted just so over the top of the rock
and spilled into the eddying pool.
Remind me how the orange maples’
reflection shone on its back.

A.M. Salt

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Jane in Resistance


Day 5 of NaPoWriMo… This is an on going Poem inspire by the Fool.  You can  start from the beginning on April 1st, should you be so inspired to begin at the beginning.

~~~~~

2012-11-07 01.30.59-2

in my LIGHT

Opening eyes to an unknown radiance
when the cloak of night laid it’s chilled cover
and hours had held her entirety to the forgotten
Trying to be remembered.

The brilliance came through her eyelids
Her hands splayed over her face
Resistance was her friend.
The old oak of Bench her comfort

Bench was undulating
pushing at her immobility.
Whispering in her head
Swelling her heart’s desire
A silent urge to Open.

Fear stalked her hesitations
Pulling at her hands, her eyelids
A resonant ’NO’ filled her senses.
Peace had left the park
And the Sun was calling out
‘Jane, Jane, Jane”

What foolishness wanted a piece of her?
What trick of Light wanted to betray her
She welcomed the night’s crawl over her skin
Jane wasn’t . Jane was invisible
Till now.

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Foolish Reflects


A 30 day poem about The Fool’s journey.  Can I do it?  Stay with me an see.  Feel free to give suggestions what Foolish might do or Not.

GERMANY 130 This picture is when I was in Germany.  I was in a ‘crypt’.  I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to do this.  It’s as close to a park bench of a picture I have.

~

A Fools Journey. 2 April 2017

Weary go the Days unattended
In the drone of beige and shadow
Eyes open, eyes shut to the ticktock
In the ‘it-doesn’t-matter-anyway’
A heart yearning for all that matters.
In a sunrise of possibilities
Purpose caves to the drab of sameness
~
Is not a Fool known to tend the fire
of surprise in the unexpected?
To poke at the skin of life ?
Leap into the known unknown?
Tumble the Joyless in to laughter?
Inspire the disheartened to wake up?
Jump into the void?
Embrace the untouchable?
Splay open the day in sudden abandon?
Show the way to foolish rapture?
~
Foolish lays on the park bench
While Spring dances on her frown
And Sun fires her closed eyes
She inhales at the edges
of the crumbles of her fate
That is no Fate at all for the fearless
She takes in the loss of her Way
That like fate is no good way at all.

Copyright, Jeanne Adwani.   2017

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