In the quiet is when I hear myself The steady beat of my heart the echo crackling pulse in my ear The questions my skin asks of me like... When will you rub cream on me? Why haven't you let me feel the wind today? I hear the Sun calling to me Will you take your face to greet him? The quiet doesn't sneak up on me She doesn't really do anything overt Or show any change in her weather She is simply define by a lack of noise By the clarity of the air The ripening freshness As green returns to the once Wintered land Quiet doesn't claim any particular season There isn't one element or another That she aligns herself with There is no vitriol to her presence No pressing want of need given or asked for She doesn't make any demands of any kind She simply is. When all the busy, all the over achieving All the doing, the placating, the perfecting the absoluting, the info gathering, and chatter Stops Quiet arrives in her not-very-fancy attire She's really quite naked, vulnerable Unimpressive might be what some think As she seems small and lacking in personality With nothing at all to say. Not a word Not a thought, emptiness, a void That's when I know she's here In the stillness, the silence Sitting next to me, in me Quiet is the most tender part of my heart, a deep well of waiting Every answer I ever needed to know arrives in her eternal presence. copyright. jeanne adwani
Category Archives: YPSILANTI MICHIGAN
Today’s prompt from napowrimo.net is to select 10 random words and then add 3-4 words that rhyme with them and make up a poem… I took a photo of what the mess I created looks like… Gives you an idea of how it went.
There is a course to chart with the heart It can start from any need that rises in the seed of love's demand as you reach out your hands making a new history from this complicated mystery Ask permission for a hug respect the little shrug No need to have the rug pulled out from under you Respecting the Land that is of other is not in your command Armadillos are not soft cloud billows to wrap around There is no need to shove, offer the peace of the dove Read the body's message of love come hither Luminescent Alchemy, roots out any blasphemy Death's casket waits in the line of your mortality
copyrights. jeanne adwani. 3 april 2020
Night swallowed up all the shiny blue
It swallowed up the deep grey gloom
It swallowed up difference and likenesses
It swallowed lit corners and ate
Night swallowed up the tired and depleted
the lonely and forgotten
Night swallowed up all the joys
and gratitudes, the platitudes, and honors
tucking them in for a Sunny return
Night came to give rest to the light
To quiet the busy mind
To give replenishment for the long day
To lay down the dreams
of making better.
Ending the worst for a new chance
Dreams of Love and beauty that will find light
in the new day.
Herald a new Alchemy for tomorrow.
Night came to have no dreams at all
save for the tender dive
into the want of nothingness
to forget regrets and disappointments
to simply fall deep down the path
Night laid Herself down
Curious innocence goes wide eyed forward
Slow, searching for the familiar
Quick to stop. like a wild animal
catching a scent in the wind
or wolf eyes moving past the immediate
into the woods deep with a rustle
of leaves and the snap of a twig
Fear gives sway to return the
few steps taken from all she knows
in this forest that has her alone
Her only friend an old pine tree
that whispers it’s branches in her ears
waves it spiky fullness over her new awareness
ripples it’s bark to reassure her
Purrs like a kitten to comfort her.
It coos the story of where the sky
hums it’s bluest self, with the golden
orb flourishing the land beyond the woods
that is parted by the whimpering river
that babbles with the telling stones.
A stone will lead you to the place of Others.
Take this branch as proof of me to you
and the staff that is of the Others
My roots run deep and with others
They will bring you there and back
and everywhere that needs going
in the to and from.
With the tingle of feet to earth
Earth to roots signals the way.
In the pivot and move
Caroline listens far for the whimper
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.
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
* * * * * * * *
If I ever forget
the trout that rose
behind the biggest stone
in the middle of the stream
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.
“…We are not the only experiment” Buckminster Fuller
This poem is from a prompt that invited me to choose a random quote and take the last few words of it and make it my own.
We are not the only experiment.
We are The experiment torn from the heavens
of infinite possibilities to a finite moment
of existence in the experience of polar chaos.
Three dimensional duality reality
And it’s some other infinite Beings
We are not the only experiment
laid to the Universal pertri-dish
of spinning galaxies in Milky Ways
of murky existence to see how humanoids
will get along in the radicalization of duality
In the dark and light of it all
In the rotational up and down and
all around of the Hokey Pokey
with all yourself in wether you wanted
in or out in this dance of Being-ness.
And it is all about the left and right
of you stepping into this Circle of Life
on this planet in it’s petri-dish we think is
floating out there in the vast somewhere
Not on that shelving unit that has no end
to it, Of old men, agelessly ambling
down the corridor of infinite everything
eyeballing each piece of Infinity to
see if one of us can make this Earth
Can we get along and survive?
Can we steward abundance ?
Can we Love unconditionally?
We ARE NOT the only experiment
In Infinity’s Infinite and we will find our
way Home sooner or later