Category Archives: jeanne adwani




She raged as the Earth in full tilt cracked wide open

Swallowing everything whole with great lust

She didn’t bother to chew, or show her pleasure

She didn’t bother to give a shit one way or the other

Rage can be fierce and shameless. 


The thing is, is that every moment of her expansive indignation

Made her hungry for more of the same want of destruction

Her molten belly was nowhere near full and digestion was no issue

Centuries of longing, eons of unrequited, lifetimes of carelessness

Fierce and shameless she took it all down


it was bound to happen; destine you might say as you noticed

How humans made careless of living, of taking with no return

Thinking that they were in control of the elementals, the seasons

She laughs in the face of that bull shit, that lie that humans do

No shame in taking that shit down with ferocity


She said, “Fuck you!, you had millions of years to figure this out.

I have molten lava in my belly, and I have had enough. Done”

She meant it in this brutal ending of humanity in despair

She will dream the dream of renewal and new life will flourish

She is shameless.  She is fierce.  Don’t fuck with Mama Earth.




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Filed under EARTH CHANGES, EARTH WISDOM, jeanne adwani, Jeanne Beauchamp, national poetry month

She Didn’t Mind


do not know the artist…

day 5.     of national poetry month.


The squirrel placed acorns in her pocket

Piled them in for the long winter rest

Invited the neighbors for a hide and seek

Making sure they couldn’t find her dress

She Didn’t mind


The fox brought her cubs for a visit

Doing the circle dance around her

Sniffing her toes and fingertips

Giving a lick and nibble here and there

She didn’t mind


Spring came and commented on the great melt

Pushing bright green up between her legs

Urging bloodroot to unfold their white bloom

In a halo of light around her head

She didn’t mind


The meadow lark made a nest in her hair

Tweeted and chirped each weave carefully

Fluttered around her haloed head anxiously

Small eggs waiting to crack open

She didn’t mind


Bees came buzzing, landing on her eyelids softly

Tracking the fresh pollen of Summers blossoms

With the chirp of baby birds mouths wide open begging

Gave a symphony to the forests awakening

She didn’t mind


A travel walked deep into the forest foraging hen in the woods

Against an old oak tree rest a woman of twigs, moss, and Autumn’s leaves

An old nest of feathers and grass lay twined in the seasons of her hair. 

A hive of honey glistened from her mouth with the buzz of bees

She didn’t mind


They hummed and buzzed in her heart, whirring from her womb

Broken acorns scattered over her waist, her fingertips were nibbled clean

In the delight of the many forest suiters who came to woo her

She didn’t mind


He wondered of her as the bees bullied distance and ownership

Claimed her as their own with no trespassers allowed but the forest keepers

He left her there in that perfection of how life had found her at last  

She didn’t mind



Jeanne adwani. copyright 2021



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Magdalene anointing.

Nail Love and compassion on the cross of your righteousness

Swing high for all to see how right you are in that self-proclamation

Sponge the water of life on the dry mouth silence of your transgressions

Declare death to differences and censor the voices of conspiracy


Holy of Wholy lost to hearts closed to tenderness forgetting Oneness

The beggars and thieves know well how power over serves no one

Hanging as a trinity at the crossroads of possibilities pondering

Choice that comes from the heart, not the evitability of this death


For death is guaranteed no matter the road taken on life’s journey

No matter what you nail yourself to for your offences against yourself

In the dark cave of your resurrection the Magdalene anoints you in love

Caresses your heart in compassion, in the remembrance of your Oneness


Reborn again in the light of tenderness as you take the path holding

The hand of she/he who you feared, now your beloved walking together

Free of the fear that bound you to separation and extinction.

Held in the anointment of this now moment of love everlasting.



Jeanne Adwani. copyright. April 4th 2021



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Filed under Christ Consciousness, jeanne adwani, Jeanne Beauchamp, national poetry month

Lost in LaLa Land

LOST IN LaLa LAND,  A Hollywood memoir 1978’


Sunset Strip lay raw and naked in the early hours

Hollywood had had a bite of my soul in the dark night

Such a quiet unseen brutal take of self-given willingly

Overtaken by the false comfort of drugs and booze


The pickup of idle chat moved to hungry lust imbibing

A perfect storm of Ferrari, and handsome bundled up

Danger hung in dripping stalactites over the bed

Yet unruffled as we sat on its edges before the long fall


 Carelessly, in Mr. GoodBar style, hunting dark mysteries

Swallowing the soft kiss deeper into my body waking

The edge ever so close for the wild jump risk of life

The tilt of the room, the wonder on his beautiful face


The roll of my inner storm, clouds bursting in torrent rain

Every tear that had been unshed flooded the room

Every want and wound soaked the walls, pooled the bed

Drowning was the best way to go as the vortex pull me under


Memory has no straight line, no sureness to how tenderness

Found the moment in the gentle arms of a stranger’s hold

Petted like a lost child found with comforting words of

“You’ll be already, You’ll be OK.”  in repeat kindness


Sunset Strip lay raw and naked before me as I walked it

Finding my way to my car alone unaided by my request

He gifted me with a gentleness I took to be time now

Soul healing needed a body temple safe and free.


I packed the VW bus with my life quaking like this land

Filled it with myself and the surrender to find myself

Taking my salty tears to the ocean to be swallowed by the tides

Barefoot in the sand the land heals the soul of me

~. jeanne adwani. copyrights

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Filed under A Pilgrams Journey, BE HERE NOW, coming of age, EYES WIDE OPEN, FOOL, Geezer Girl, jeanne adwani, Jeanne Beauchamp, MEMOIR


There is a sweet blossom melody

It lingers on the edge of this morning

After a crescent moon bath of scent

in the blue-black sky during dreamland


Open still in this cool awakening from

The summers days full of wet heat

gardens limp in the cry for raindrops

And the glory of datura opens to the night


Gives her full moon unfolding to the darkness

Stirring the shadows to her intoxication

With whispering promises of glory in twilight

To be remembered when dawn cracks open


And Sun spreads light on her wilting magic

Radiance takes her life in slow droops

Radiance takes her perfume back to the earth

Quiet now, still as a new moon sky twinkling


She closes her white velvet life to the morning

In the wrap of a mother protecting her seed

Rest comes in busy prepare of prickly pod

Daring you to snatch her children in day bright


For hundreds of melodies wait to be born

A symphony of night blossoms in full bloom

On a clear summer night next July inhaling

Again the fullness held within those seeds


`copyright. jeanne adwani

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Filed under Geezer Girl, jeanne adwani, MOON, Spirituality, SUMMER


Feeling the mycelium beneath my feet
A woven tapestry of nurturance 
A vast cooperation of life in Oneness

Feeling the giant maple whisper her rooted
story to her beloveds for as One 
We thrive in the net-work of living

Feeling the air skim my flesh in the
Invisible gift of each breath offered
Clarity of purpose uninterrupted

Feeling the tears rise for the spilling
A salty sea of remembrance to be shed
For All that need to grieve in surrender

Feeling this vastness of Connection
Of how I am all that and none of it. 
The Earth of me
The Heart of me
The Breath of me
The Bright Spirit of me

Feeling it all to know it All
Being it all to live it all
Breathing it all in for the sake
Of Knowing the Deep gift 
of this simple

copyright.  jeanne adwani



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Filed under A Pilgrams Journey, BE HERE NOW, CREATOR, DESTROYER, PRESERVER, jeanne adwani, NAPOWRIMO, national poetry month


This writing and this poem that will come at the 
end of this narrative, was inspired by Wendall Berry, 
The Peace of Wild Things, and Mary Oliver's poem 
Wild Geese.
It's the 'Wild' in both of these that called out to 
me this morning.  The freedom in the Wild that 
during this time of sequestered sheltering, doesn't 
feel so free, so wild.  So, I go into 'remembrance' 
of that first time when that wild freedom flowed over 
me and all I could do was let it have me.  I dedicate 
this Earth Day, this New Moon day, My day to The Wild.
In 1966 the song Wild Thing came out. It seemed a 
call out to the way of the world then, one of the 
freedom calls of that era of Vietnam, free love, and 
the peace movement.  It felt a call to young women to 
let their freak flag fly, be groovy, make heart's sing.

Wild Thing
The Troggs
"Wild thing
You make my heart sing
You make everything, groovy
Wild thing
Wild thing, I, think I love you
But I want to know for sure
So come on, and hold me tight
I love you
Wild thing
You make my heart sing
You make everything, groovy
Wild thing
Wild thing, I, think you move me
But I want to know for sure
So come on, and hold me tight
You move me
Wild thing
You make my heart sing
You make everything, groovy
Wild thing
Come on, come on, wild thing
Shake it, shake it, wild thing"

I had moved for that summer to Hamilton, ON to 
be part of a program put on by my Uncle, the priest.  
I lived in a German Lutheran Church parsonage on 
the edge of downtown Hamilton, with four other 
young people whose names I have forgotten.  
We were a diverse group, I was the only one from 
the U.S., and I was a family member of the leader.  
That placed me in a position of either being special 
in a suspicious way, or being that 'other' that was 
clearly a bit of a wild thing;  unpredictable, 
amusing and just cute enough to stir everyone's pot 
up with a certain charm. I was an unknown factor.  
I was liked, and often not trusted to be present in 
the way of the rules given down by my revered Uncle. 
I had rebellion written on my soul and there was no 
way to stop it.

I was a Wild Thing. My then boyfriend, Scotty, that I 
had left at home in Michigan, had sent me that record 
about a month into this program.  It came with a 
very endearing card of love and missing that tickle 
at my hearts edges.  I was already crushed out on one 
of my Uncles students that paid visit to us, probably 
to see how we were all doing on behalf of him. 
Henry, dear sweet Henry.  Someone I will never forget.

It was confusing for me at 18, sassy, cute, smart, 
curious beyond measure, to have a boyfriend at home, 
and this unique, 'older' guy really wanting to know 
me.  It brought the wild of me to all my surfaces and 
made my decisions based on the immediate rather than 
anything thought out.

Henry was willing to accommodate pretty much my every 
whim. I knew his crush on me made him vulnerable to 
my charms.  I took advantage of that with a frivolity 
I had no idea of it's hurtful and joyful impact, 
to both of us, to the program, to my uncle.  
In my playfulness, my spontaneity, my overall 
first-time-away-from-home freedom, I was pushing 
life's edges in ways that were freeing for me, and 
tedious and confusing for others.  
That awareness for me came later.  I was testing the 
world and people around me, finding where I might 
fit my creative, wild spirited self. 
Who were my people?  
What kind of Wild Thing would I be?

A Pantoum to The Wild.

Race the Wild self across freedom's radiance
Soar wide out into the vast unknown moments
Welcome the curious creative Spirit on fire
Hold back nothing in the Everything

Soar wide out into the vast unknown moments
Let the menace and frolic find pure release
Hold back nothing in the Everything
Earth, Fire, Air, Water are the orchestra

Let the menace and frolic find pure release
Be the clear channel of paradox in it's dance
Earth, Fire, Air, Water are the orchestra
Infinity is a boundless playground waiting.

BE the clear channel of paradox in it's dance
Welcome the curious creative Spirit on fire
Infinity is a boundless playground waiting
Race the Wild self across freedom's radiance

copyright. jeanne adwani

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Filed under coming of age, jeanne adwani, Jeanne Beauchamp, MICHIGAN POET, NAPOWRIMO, national poetry month, wild thing, the Troggs


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 


Filed under a poem a day. Michigan poet, jeanne adwani, Jeanne Beauchamp, MICHIGAN POET, NAPOWRIMO, national poetry month


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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Filed under a poem a day. Michigan poet, jeanne adwani, Jeanne Beauchamp, NAPOWRIMO, national poetry month, pandemic, pandemic quarantine, SONNET

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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Filed under a poem a day. Michigan poet, Geezer Girl, GRATITUDE, jeanne adwani, Jeanne Beauchamp, MICHIGAN POET, NAPOWRIMO, national poetry month