Tag Archives: NANOPOMO

Spring Rising


day 12

Forget ME not

In the budding and greening

In the Spring rising:

~

May there rise health and well-being

within you

May you rise up and speak to

   the truth of Equality

May you rise in selflessness and

   let unconditional love fill your heart

May you rise to the call of an Earth

  that needs your better stewardship

May your eyes rise to the needy and

  and answer their silent call for help

May the rise of consciousness around 

  addictions meet with your actions

May you enter disquiet and contridictions

  with a heart and mind open in care-fullness

May the Peace you seek start and 

   rise with You

May your righteous indignation

   rise to a willingness to get humble

May you rise in the knowing that

  Love is the answer 

May you let the Light of kindness

  rise in your heart when it is most

   challenged

May your rise to the Greater Knowing

  that You are part of Everything and 

  Everyone.

May you rise to Your Highest

  and Greatest Goodness

May you rise in your anger to see

  that it is full of fear and needs your love

May you rise in all your mornings

 to understanding that you are not alone

May you rise with a smile on your face

joy in your heart, and the deep knowing

  that no matter what.  

  I Will Love You no matter what

~~~

~ CC jeanne adwani

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allowances


I think this is the longest I’ve gone with out laying out a post in the last two years.  Not for laziness.

I’m shifting.  Moving my inner workings about.  Re-calibrating.  Pondering next steps.  Anyone else feeling a new pull, a certain whisper on the wind?

For awhile it won’t be every day of diving into a moment with poetry.  I’m going to let the muse have me and wander me about in other places that words need to be written in.  I hope to allow it all to bubble and brew in this heart cauldron of mine.

heart reflection

Allowances

 

Wash the dishes, clean your room

feed the dog, mow the lawn

Allowances were given

 

drop the glass, forget the errand

often late, missed the plane

Allowances were given

 

In the allow of this for the giving of that

In the allow of that for the misplace of this

in doing the right thing to the forgetting

 

Open to the allow it to happen as it will

In the generosity of the space not yet filled

up with doing and mind jumble

 

Where does it matter most on the life way

that allows possibility in the night and day

of what can be seen or hides in the shadows?

 

When allowance feeds the greater good

and gives the free flow a kind radiance

that lights the way for others.

 

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SLIP AWAY HERE FOR AWHILE


I’ve been reading some lovely poetry on line from the various people that I have connected to in the cyberworld.  If you track down my blog on the side you’ll see some of them.  Take a look at the ‘posts I like’.  The community of writers out in the lands beyond is significant and very present if you go looking.  Like all cyber space journeys, one leads to another, to another, and on.  Like getting trapped in YouTube and 3 hours has joyfully slipped away.

 

Slip away here for awhile in the cool comfort of inspiration

Slip away here when the laze of you needs solace and ponder

Slip away here with a morning cuppa and open heart 

Slip away here when down looks like up in the grey gloom

 

Meet here in the spirit of possibilities 

Grab the rainbow thread of connection

At the tap of your fingers to anywhere

And find yourself here for awhile

 

Be Here Now where there is no place other than

The place you breathe in right now

Be Here Now where love is all there is

Where here is right where you have always been

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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ODE TO AUTUMN


 

Sippy the coffee, gaze at the autumn changes through my window,

Careful to not let the jitter of negative thinking slither into me, 

Breathe, notice what brings me joy, notice what fills my heart with gratitude.    

Notice my breath.

 

Breathing

 

The leaves change to Sunshine pouring into my eyes like breath

Filling me up to this golden gospel of death that knows it’s resurrection

There is never ‘Will I turn to gold or red and lose what I birthed in Spring?’

I give because I am that that gives

 

In stillness I breathe

 

There is wonder for me in the gold and fire of my nature with Nature

Clinging to branch and twig till a wisp of breath severs me and I float 

Laying here on wet Earth looking up at the whisper of all of us waiting to release 

Letting go to find renewal

 

Barely breathing

 

I will lay here with all of you on this golden carpet of harvest given

Finished In this season of surrender  in slow breathing for our resurrect

Wearing our winter white in the stark landscape of silence listening

Giving rest to or next becoming

 

Still breathing

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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THE LIFE N’ DEATH OF IT


The last day of September… didn’t I tell you that there were 37 minutes to the hour?  Why… yes I did.  Time is such an illusion.

The peace of the morning tumbles to the sound of hunters rapid gun fire.  It echos across the lake in a surging wave that screams ‘death to you’.  It disturbs me, and I remember where I am; in small town northern Michigan where hunting is a way of life and some to practice the life of survival by living off the land anyway they can.  And then there are those that do it for sport.  I choose to not even let myself go to ‘that place’.

 

Still, the beauty of the morning rises with the Sun. The cumulous clouds  lay a mountain of puff on the tree horizon in a slow roll over the lake, making me want to jump high for a float  in the blue sea of sky across the land.

 

The blast of the bullets fill the air

Carries the ache of death in the wind

There is no match in my consciousness

for the beauty of the morning rising

and the rapid fire of bullet to soft flesh

 

There is no place in my serenity that

lingers in the snuff of death by hunter

Or can I fill my mind with the leak of blood

that lays it’s drench on the forest floor.

No matter my knowing of creation and death’s circle

 

There is no hiding from the circle of 3D living

Where Love and fear play out dualities dance

and the beauty of a morning Sun rises to 

Share it’s moments with the bullets of death

On the the green and blue sphere of Earth

 

Choice is to be made in these moments

as the land births a new day and the gun 

ends the day for a life worth living 

Whether to quiver to the fear of dying 

or welcome the glory of Sun rising

 

It’s all happenin now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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LIGHTEN UP


1st of August… Summer  rolls on by in her heat.  The days are gone in a speed that is startling, and the good ol’ Be Here Now continues to push at me in proof of it being the best way to stay present in my moments.

OLYMPIC FLAME

 

The Light is not anymore bright

here than over there.

It’s not some angle that gives

it a better glow

Tho’ it might appear to be so

 

Lighten up is the way to go

 

It moves out in rippled row flight

in ease through my body

Light enters  into my everywhere

to fill up my cup

Light it calls me to give it up

 

Lighten up is the way to go

 

No space is dark where ever I go

in the give of Light

From the inside out and about

I feel the Light in the ever flow

My Light it goes where ever I go

 

Lighten up is the way I go

 

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SOAP OPERA HEAT


He buffs and polishes my nails

White mask held tight around his ears

as his vigor sends white powder flying

In a cloud of  dust around our heads

The drone of betrayal and anger

splays itself on to  the wide screen Tv

Held high against the back wall  

The soap opera marches into his fingers

as he sands and buffs my nails

 

Muffled comments emanate from behind

The swath of white cover over his mouth

I can feel his heat rise on the bed of my nails

“I hate those shows.  I hate how they treat each other.”

I imagine his lips taunts in the hiss of the words

behind that mask that denies toxic inhalation

He exhales the toxic conversation coming

In his ears from the wide screen Tv

He gives the burn of it to my nails

 

I give and ‘Ouch’ and a twitch

“It’s evil.”  he says  “Family should never

treat each other like that. It’s evil”

His eyes never meet mine in this intimate

Space we share in the buzz and buff

of my nails in the heat of his anger

And the septic conversation rolling

over us from the wide screen TV

I give agreement to his sentiment

It is an Opera that no amount of soap

will ever clean the toxic dump of it

from a man that honors and holds

his family in the tender truth of his love

 

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