Tag Archives: Jeanne Beauchamp poetry

The Sheltering Breath


The form of this Poem is a Triolet.  See if you
can see and feel it's rhythm.  It is a prompt from
the NaPoWriMo.net website.  It goes likes this.

~~
THE SHELTERING BREATH

Nestled into the sheltering breath
Of how the days find rest in each other
In the alone shallow of the hardness of death
Nestled into the sheltering breath
Of warp and weave on life's eternal weft
In remembrance of the being held by other
Nestled into the sheltering breath
Of how the days find rest in each other

copyright.  jeanne Adwani


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QUIET


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






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Filed under MICHIGAN POET, NAPOWRIMO, national poetry month, Silence, YPSILANTI MICHIGAN

The Bench… one fools awakening


Day 3 of NaPoWriMo… my on going quest to write a poem/story, adding some made up bit every day, cause I can and it feels delightfully like a foolish thing to do.  Us Fools do like to Jump in, after all.

IMG_2059

The gift of the Bench… an awakening A Journey. 3 April 2017

There would be no explaining this.
Pressed deep into the wooden bench
Letting the wind tease at her edges
Letting the trickle of wet trace her cheek
Letting the smell of grass and root
weave their way passed the senseless
life so void of living, when her lungs
are filled with bird songs, her ears
held to the music of grass giggling,
and her closed eyes taking the Sun
as her lover.

There would be no explaining this
hyper sensual, elemental, out of body, and
back in again with repeat.
Laying witness to the forgotten
brought back in for remembering.
The tremble of the Universe filling her up.
Exposing the DNA of infinite connection.
Oh No…
Not in a city lost to any noticing of
the nature of this nature lost.

The hug of Verdancy, with her long
fingers and long ago memory
of a forever of Seasons changing,
wrapped tenderness around this Fool.
She fluttered in her consciousness calming
the split of her world in the abyss of clarity
Called out in a silent exhale, ‘Wake Up.”

A spell cast, a spell broken, on a park bench,
in this city of empty, on this April Fools day.
where stories of magic and earth wisdom
soaked deep into that bench wood of oak
with a thousand Foolish days that waited
for her to pause, lay down, and listen.
It had waited for Jane14.

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