Tag Archives: Ypsilanti Poet

The Willow, The Rapids


PACIFIC NORTHWEST 2 024

 

Morning…

This poem, which I am about to ‘makeup’ in this moment, is from the prompt given on the NaPoWriMo.net page.

I read a beautiful poem there by Claire Wahmanholm, The Meadow, The River, that inspired this moment of flow.

Let me see what’s going to pour out …

~~~  The Willow, The Rapids ~~~~~

My eyes followed the half of her

that went into the river

Her other half fluttered in the wind

Caught in the droop of willow branches

Holding her in a delicate balance

~

I tried to catch one of her eyes

The one in the tree held to silence

Closed and serene

The one in the rapids

Wild like the water consuming her

~

Should I save her from drowning?

In the wildness of herself?

Should I save her from the whip of the winds

In the fresh calm of herself?

I laid myself perfectly at the tip of that pinpoint

~

I felt into the drown of my wild concerns

Breathing into the serenity of the winds caress

Feeling into the desire of both of those halves

in the surrender of perceive wholeness

Making a break from each other

~

There was a losing to find

There was a split of understand

The hologram of wholeness was breathing water

And each breath took in the rapids.

Swimming in the wind has its answers

~

DSCN8687

 

~~ cc jeanne adwani

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FOOLING HERSELF.


Dark-Red-Lis

day 1 NaPoWriMo

~~~

She wasn’t much for the silly.

There was no pun in her to mention.

A laugh required an awkward moment,

    maybe even a fumbled narrative about

    the courtship of humans in that messiness

    of figuring the ‘Other’ out.

~

That seemed silly to her, all that figuring

    it out, all that otherness, all that fumbling

    around for connection in the pet and grind.

The getting to know you in the stumble of

    words, lingering stares, lips that desire.

She figured that was pretty silly.

~

She figured there was no giggle in any of that

    in her stuttered awkwardness

Her hands twined around her loneliness

Wishing the yearning would dissolve

   out of her heart’s hungry want.

Where was the silly in any of that?

~

She tried to look away

She tried to feel away

She tried to let invisibility

    be the friend it never had been

How ridiculous that would be

    to be seen now, to be in the messy

~

To let the foolishness of lonely,

   of desire, ravage at her singularity

Breaking the resolve that Love was

   a silly thing, a confusing thing, a

   fraught and chaotic thing.

She wasn’t that kind of Fool.

~

The kiss changed all that.

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CHOSEN


 

white pine forest

What is it to be chosen?

Pulled through a portal rife

Same to same and different

Breath has returned steady

and the heart beats back to itself.

~

Eyes track slow left to right

noticing how a forest looks like a forest

And the sun dapples the green

in shadow and light.

Senses rush to meet the moment

in this awakening

~

With trees that smell like

sunrise and baked bread

and a sky that fills your nose

with the smell of mown grass

and sweet honey

~

Birds give their song to wings

That sing in the wind, tree to tree

A squirrel fills your mind with

forest talk of nuts and fruit and

that water is down that path

and just over the hill.

~

Innocence has no answers

to this same and different.

Leaning alone against

this old tree that purrs like a cat

and fills the shock with the tender

comfort of a mother’s lullaby.

~

Caroline pushes her body against

the tree letting the comforting resistance

pull her wobbly legs to a stand.

“That way” fills her mind and

the feel of bark pushes her forward.

~

~

~

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IN THE VULNERABLE SILENCE


2015-11-21 18.23.06-2

 

In the grey sky, tinged with morning pink
Vulnerable are the trees in silhouette
Naked against Winter’s austerity
Leafless against the bitter cold

Roots buried deep in the frozen earth
The life blood slowed in the quietude
Staunch in the willingness to wait
For the tilt of the Earth to call to Spring

Humans know none of this at their root
Such vulnerability to Winter’s quest
For silence and the slow beat of living
Wrapped in layers of cotton and wool

Skin is not like bark to a tree
No leaves for us to lose in wait to return
Nor does our root bury itself deep
No such attachment to one place

We are of stars and wander-lust
Held to gravity and ancient stories
Held to search for what settles our root
To this short stay on this blue marble

That for today, awakens to a grey sky
With a tinge of pink in sunrise
As this season of bitter cold cycles
in the reminder of vulnerable silence

by    jeanne adwani

~~~

Just riding 
by the cornfields
Seven crows 
sitting 
in a silver tree

by
A.M. Salt

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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.

snow ponies

WHAT WE IMAGED

EMPTY PRESENCE

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

Jeanne Adwani

* * * * * * * *

If I ever forget
the trout that rose
behind the biggest stone
in the middle of the stream
near Whitefish
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.

A.M. Salt

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Jane in Resistance


Day 5 of NaPoWriMo… This is an on going Poem inspire by the Fool.  You can  start from the beginning on April 1st, should you be so inspired to begin at the beginning.

~~~~~

2012-11-07 01.30.59-2

in my LIGHT

Opening eyes to an unknown radiance
when the cloak of night laid it’s chilled cover
and hours had held her entirety to the forgotten
Trying to be remembered.

The brilliance came through her eyelids
Her hands splayed over her face
Resistance was her friend.
The old oak of Bench her comfort

Bench was undulating
pushing at her immobility.
Whispering in her head
Swelling her heart’s desire
A silent urge to Open.

Fear stalked her hesitations
Pulling at her hands, her eyelids
A resonant ’NO’ filled her senses.
Peace had left the park
And the Sun was calling out
‘Jane, Jane, Jane”

What foolishness wanted a piece of her?
What trick of Light wanted to betray her
She welcomed the night’s crawl over her skin
Jane wasn’t . Jane was invisible
Till now.

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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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