Road Tripping

Traveling those blue highways those rural routes

of back roads, of byways weaving through

small town USA where life thrives in a

slow way if it thrives at all

With empty old shops surrounding

the local hardware and there’s

a café and gas station at the corner


Rosey’s Cafe printed across the window

neon light blinking “OPEN” calling me

come on in for lunch, not to forget that

breakfast is served all day everyday

Breakfast it is with the proper amount of grease

and grits, thick bacon and that toast

that is square, fat and slathered with butter

with a side of homemade strawberry jam.


Across the street, a thrift store with antiques

a passion for me, a junker’s paradise, a road

tripping pirated looking for bounty.

These shops can be hoarder full,

barely able to walk through

with mountains of rummage collected

hangered and stacked with some order that

defies the meaning of what order is


Somebody’s grandparent’s ancient old shit

an estate of family collectables unwanted

heirlooms broken to be fixed in the never will be

Generation of not letting go, now needing it to go.

Families don’t know what to do with what’s

left after the scramble and pawing through it

dumped now in these shops in the hope that

making a few dollars off of someone’s forgotten

 treasure is for a ’picker’ something to celebrate.


Not enough people pass through these

off-the-main-drag small rural communities

to buy the leftovers of old dead people

long gone with outdated uselessness

only worth the rummage to a true junker

A pirate of the byways seeking treasure

I hear the call. I stop for the joy in the hunt

following a garage sale sign

in the middle of Midwest nowhere

passing alfalfa fields with poor farmers eking

a living with a few cows and chickens and a big

gardening full of vegetables and flowers for some

local prosperity to keep the living pulse Ok enough


This sign aiming me onto a damn dirt road

where the grass grows down the center of it

and the rain puddle too deep I have to turn around

Should have turned left at that last cross-road

Should have let the grass be a sure sign of nowhere.

I should on myself yet again, only to arrive at

the best garage sale ever smelling the methane in the air


It’s good to know yourself as a compass traveling this way

or at least how to follow the sun cause that’s maybe

what you need to follow unless you decide

that sooner of later you’ll hit a main road

if you go far enough in one direction or another

That’s iffy and then again. hell you’re on a road trip

taking the blue highways where ever looking for stuff

stopping when you like, sleeping at JoJo’s motel

just on the edge of that town you passed through

a few miles back deciding it was time to make it a day.

Turning around cause you’re pretty sure there’s not

much you’ll come across any time soon on C32


Sitting at the café’ counter connected to JoJo’s,

my appetite worked up for all the seeking of treasure

and the miles of driving and stopping

ordering the meatloaf with mash potatoes, gravy

and boiled carrots with maple butter dripping on them

striking up a conversation with a woman named Peggy

with her over bleached permed hair, too tight jeans,

a hot pink tank top showing every curve she wants you to linger on

She wonders why a woman like me, in my jeans,

my black peace sign tee shirt, rings on every finger

and my ratty old Birkenstocks that serve me well

is alone without a man on road trip like this

Isn’t that dangerous? Wasn’t I scared?

Why would I ever travel alone?   

She couldn’t image it.

I ask her who does her hair.



jeanne adwani. @copyright



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When Spring Awakens

Forget me Not…

When Spring Awakes.               day 11


Crystalline drops of rain soaked in Sun

Glitter drips from branches waiting to leaf

Air is sparked with the vivid waft of green

Earth trembles in the welcome of the deep drink


A New Moon rises quietly in the vibrancy

Night brings the shelter of hidden places

And still the awakening rises to greet

Morning in her fresh verdancy


The Solar Lunar marriage of life’s renewal

Sacred union in joined nurturance.

Patterning the seasons on the earth plane

Birth, life, death in cycles repeat


It is in awakening to your life

A seed planted; a thought released

Creativity gathered to intention

Unified together in life renewing


In Crystalline clarity soak in limitless Light

Beaming out into Infinite spaciousness

Charged with the luminescence of divine intent

Feel the trembling birth of your consciousness



jeanne adwani. @2021

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Grief’s Gifts

A cematary in Michigan


Grief lives in your body

It doesn’t leave, it simmers

It doesn’t magically go away

It lives on your breath

It pulses with your heart

It flows from a trinket

It stares at you from a photo

it lives in the letter of goodbye

in the recipe you love

It smells in the dog collar

it purrs from the pillow

It hums in the shadows

It stalks you when you least

expect it, in the quiet times

in the family times

driving in the car

laying in your bed

on the beach,

at the Dairy Queen

listening to a favorite song

And tears fall, they come

unabashed, choking you

flowing with so much feeling

joy and pain in a whirling vortex

of love, of loss, of remembrance

of celebration, of tenderness

‘I miss you’. seems hardly

enough in this heart ache

hardly enough in this loss


Grief lives in me

I celebrate it

I welcome it

My list is long now

So I never forget

any of you

My heart is vast

because of you



jeanne adwani. @copyright. 20121


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Give it to Kali, she’ll eat it.  She’s famished

Take all that shit that doesn’t serve your life.

the people, the job, the hoard. that negativity

Give it to Her, Give it to Kali’s belly


She’s hungry, she can’t wait to eat it


Rid yourself of all that wants take your sovereignty

All that wants to suck your goodness away

Everything that you let break your good flow

Give it to Kali, give it to her completely


She’s so hungry for it, she cannot wait to eat it


Look at her, she’s quivering with desire

She loves the rot and stench of your stink

Of all that you have gathered that smells

up your life with toxic dissidence


She’s beside herself with craving for it


She cannot wait to eat it up, gobble it down

Smack her lips with unabashed delight

It slithers down her throat in orgasmic pleasure

Give your shit to her, All of it, Hold nothing back


She’s so very hungry. Feed Her!


She will come for it if you don’t release it

She will eat it up whether you are ready or not

She knows that for your creativity to flourish

For your goodness to be alive and purposeful


She wants to take all your malignant puss and eat it


Give it to her. Not later on, Not tomorrow. Now!

Your life is a cesspool with that stuff you drag around

Let her drag it.  Let her take it and destroy it for you

Hell, She wants too.  Look how ready she is.  Drooling


She’s ready.  Writhingly. Undulating with hunger

Give it to Her.  Give it to Kali.  She’ll eat it



jeanne adwani. @Copyright. 2021

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Time Has Changed



Time is recalibrating, days crunch together in twelves

then expand into forty-eight, then have no meaning

not in the way we all laid our schedules down

not in the way we made our hours fit our days

not in the way we made up time like we imagined it

the Sun rises and set, the Moon makes her monthly pattern

there’s sense in that, there’s a time continuum in that


Time is dissolving like we put it underwater to watch it

swirl in a vortex of energy pulling what we thought we knew

deeper into an unknown unseen cavern of timelessness

all the while we still think we can be on time, fill the day

while we watch the clock tick and move as if it knows  

the perfection of twenty-four hours and we should too

we ‘should’ on ourselves yet again.


Time is teasing us just like the Sun does, shining so bright

so welcoming on a freezing day we think it might be warm

we feel a little thrill when the temperature says 28 degrees

and there He is all bright and smiling that sunny grin

what a liar that Sun is that can toast a marshmallow

that can make green lush an arid desert landscaped

Fiery bastard is such a paradox


Time is liar, we didn’t think so. We don’t want to believe it

we are still held to the twenty-four, it’s what we know

it’s what we count on to keep us in a timely manner of life

the clock says so.  Big Ben belts out the hourly chime.

alarms ring out the hour to rise and shine to the new day

only have you noticed how out of sync the days feel

how running late or early, or out of time is the new time


Time is different.  Time is not the same as it was yesterday

even a moment ago when you looked it all seem right on time

just like you knew it would be, felt it was tic toc-ing right

the world was timely and in perfect flow like you like it

nope. Take notice.  Feel into it.  Change is happening

space time continuum has you on alert.

Really, I’m not kidding



Jeanne adwani.  copyright 2021

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Into The Fire

3/5/3/3/7/5. Shadorma 26 syllables

This is poetry form taken as a prompt from the NaPoWriMo.net website for todays poem

artist unknown to me.


Into the Fire


There is no

dousing the fire

when it all

needs to burn

fan the flame of destruction

what is done is done


Make sacred

the empty land of

blackened waste

an altar to new beginnings

the phoenix rises




Jeanne adwani  @copyright 2021

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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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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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I Love Myself Too Much Lose My Peace

I Love Myself Too Much to Lose My Peace.                 

          a pantoum


I Love myself too much to lose my Peace

Chaos can’t have me in the cover of darkness

When fear comes out to feed on harmony

My inner flame rises a thousand kilowatts


Chaos can’t have me in the cover of darkness

Breathing out the light of me into the unseen

My inner flame rises a thousand kilowatts

My exhale becomes a beacon in shadowland


Breathing out the light of me into the unseen

What fear is this that wishes to consume me?

My exhale becomes a beacon in shadowland

I love my shadow as I love my light


What fear is this that wishes to consume me?

To steal my brilliance into its dark worm hole

I love my shadow as I love my light

I take the fear to my mouth and swallow it


To steal my brilliance into its dark worm hole

A passage that has no end in its beginning

I take the fear to my mouth and swallow it

There is expanse in me for this transformation


A passage that has no end in its beginning

When fear comes out to feed on harmony

There is expanse in me for this transformation

I love myself too much to lose my Peace.


Jeanne adwani   copyright

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