Tag Archives: NATIONAL POETRY MONTH

FEELING



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
Truth

copyright.  jeanne adwani

  

 

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WILD THING


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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I AM A POEM


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 

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PANDEMIC SONNET


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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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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The Last Ember


Not the first burn-it-all-down 
An aftermath of broken hearts
In the relief of at last it's done
Or undone yet again in the fever pitch

Of how the cycle returns to itself
with a hundred matches lite under
The vulnerable exposure of choices
Incongruent with each other, writhing

Looking for that patch of green
Under the April showers to bath in
From the smoke and faltering
Cinders laid to waste by the 

Try to hard yet again and again
By the lashing beseech of lost 
Yesterdays yearning to free the heart
Outcasted on a lonely patch of Spring

Waiting for a renewal
Waiting to be the seed planted
Waiting for the rain to drown
The last ember 

copyright. jeanne adwani
  
 

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CHOICE uncensored


I welcome your right to choice
To honor your Sovereignty to
be at the helm of your domain
To express fully what moves in
and through you uncensored.

I welcome your wisdom of choice
To take notice of the larger intake
Be ready to act on behalf of other
To express fully your respect
And care-fullness uncensored

I welcome your thought-full choice
To know you stand with other Sovereigns
Be ready to share in equality 
To express with an open heart
And let compassion flow uncensored

I welcome you in the enough of choice
To honor your Sovereignty to
Be ready to act on behalf of other
To express with an open heart
And to remember that 
what is done for One,
is done for all. 
Uncensored 


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Filed under jeanne adwani, Jeanne Beauchamp, NAPOWRIMO, national poetry month, TRUTH

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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What are we slipping into


Days slip into each other
Like they are liquid, viscus
Even a little rubbery, stretchy
We presumed them to be different 
Because the calendar says that's so

Only.

Days keep slipping into each other
A strive to make them different 
make them defined from what was yesterdays
breakfast, a different route for that 
dog walk, shift feeding the animals first
making coffee the priority, showering in 
the afternoon instead of after morning chores
Connecting with friends in the middle of
the day, sitting around in wonder of this
time that has no time stamp.

Because

These days, they keep slipping into forgetting
Slipping away from the predictable 
Slipping away from the rituals, 
Slipping away from the define productivity 
of the familiar that now must flow into change

We

Are Slipping from the ways that demand that of us
Not because it's a slippery slope or that
we might slip on our asses and make us the fool
No, this slip and slide routine is the order of
these new days, a pandemic reprograming to release 
the old, the uselessness, the unimportant habits that

Must

Be slipped into like a tight woven chrysalis 
So that when we melt, dissolve from our old self
we morph into our new self resolved, renewed
We push, we crack, we hurt, we scream, we weep
and are re-birthed in a new paradigm of renewal
We slip into the arms of this unknown and 
become fully realized in the only Truth 

Love



 copyright. jeanne adwani

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A Conspiritutorial


Conspiracy is an abundant playground
Endlessly resourced in cursory checks
and deep dives into a plethora of Global
storytelling and galactic superlatives
Full of truths and fictions quivering to 
fill the belly of our hungry need to know,
to find, to be assured that something,
anything might make sense out of the senseless 

Isn't it all a tease at our sensibilities?
Every bit of complaint and justifiable  
a wiggling finger at our ridiculousness, at 
our flagrant act of exaggeration gone rogue
Maybe at our simple desire to find a normal
in the clearly 'who the hell knows that anyway"
You're making it up as you go along aren't you?
You're creative like that in the 8 Billion of us
Making it up as the filters to your thinking
stretch and contract like water to ice
And then it all melts to a puddle at your feet

And what does it all matter anyway what your mind
conspires to when all around us is a puddle that
Is now an ocean and so many are drowning?
Drowning in the Storylines that hold us ransom
to partial truths and late night boozing.
Tossed into a murky sea of fake news and questionable
fact finding that someone can not wait to tag you in
FaceBook perfect and you're it, I promise
Gather you to the bosom of their brilliance 
Offer you the cult tee-shirt and the promise that
you are part of absolute clarity supremely 
You gave your Sovereignty away for what price?
Conspiracy . . .  Sign me up please and thank you
  
COPyright.  jeanne adwani

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