Tag: poetry

Take Care

On By MiCoIn changes, courage, god, hope, light, love, love poetry, peace, poetry7 Comments

There is peace in my body,

Light in my eyes,

Love in my heart, and

You in my soul.

I am an interesting mixture of

Timelessness and words.

Hold me close and I will enlighten you,

Love me deeply and I will give you heaven,

Hurt me and your thoughts of me will stain your soul

Forever, so, take care and

Be mindful of how you hold me.

Silent April Snow

On By MiCoIn changes, courage, earth, faith, hope, light, love, love poetry, nature, peace, poetry, poetry changes, sadness, seasons, spirit, Writing2 Comments

The early spring silent snow

Fits my mood.

It is a white dusting of truth

Accentuating every little branch and twig,

Making every little lie all the more obvious.

The silence into which the April snow is falling

Seeps through my eyes and into my heart

As if to smother and quiet its

Telltale beats.

It comes as blessing and a curse by

Prolonging the inevitable with maybe that one last chance.

But I know the sun will come out and

It will all be just a memory …

Once again.

Easter’s Promise

On By MiCoIn faith, god, hope, Joy, light, love, love poetry, nature, poetry, thanks1 Comment

 

Snow flattened grass

Reawakens in the spring sun.

Snow banks dwindle and melt

Like arctic glaciers.

Crocuses brave the still icy winds to prove their faith in spring.

Still leafless branches sway and clack together in spring’s winds

While sap flows up from their feet and warms them from within.

Objects left outside since late October emerge from the snow, preserved as if having been in an altered state of timelessness.

Time stood still under the snow while the world and sky above

Flowed seamlessly from one season to the next, one viscous winter storm passing silently on to another.

Lawn chairs I last used in November have returned, appearing as if just back from vacation.

The chairs stand in a circle around an old, rusted fire pit with welcoming extended arms and empty seats.  So I join them once again as a new season of light and promise begins, today,

Easter Sunday. 

Easter is a day of great joy and hope to millions all around the world.

A day to celebrate the defeat of death and the promise of eternal life but

I see evidence of His promise every day, in early spring tree buds, in the yellowing of willows at the end of winter, in the greening of the meadow grasses and the songs of the returning summer birds.

Spring springs eternal in Gods promise to all beings, not just the human ones and not only through stories in a nice book written so very long ago …

So take a moment each day to stop and look outside and see that

Easter’s promise is everywhere, not just today but every day, in every being and

Every season.

 

Storm Dance

On By MiCoIn autumn, dance, earth, nature, poetry, seasons3 Comments

 

 Coastal dunes slide and slip into the sea

As the storm rolls on to the north.

Gulls scurry to grab unfortunate crabs washed ashore by the crashing waves.

Seaweed floats and ripples with the waves like grass in the wind and

Salty sea spray coats the disinterested windows of empty houses on the shore.

The tourists have all left for the season

Leaving the ocean and beach to carry on with their lover’s dance,

Un-witnessed and unashamed, with freedom and reckless abandon.    

 

(2/23/17)

 

Mine to Claim

On By MiCoIn changes, courage, darkness, pain, poetry, sadness2 Comments

There is a light in my words.

They possess a divine luminescence

That does not flow from me

But from a much greater source.

A source above and beyond me.

But the other ones, the dark words,

Where do they come from?

They take over sometimes, in spite of what I say I want.

Where does their power come from? Me, him, somewhere else? Someone else?

They seep into my soul unbidden from a place I don’t want to claim as my own.

They weave their webs around my heart and steal my light.

Their thoughts are dark, their meanings are dark, their hearts are black and broken.

I would feel sorry for them if they were not mine.

They are here to control me, to upset my basket of good and light.

They are mine to deny and disown, but mine nonetheless.

To deny their existence or my creation of them would be to deny a basic part of myself, maybe one I am not proud of but an integral part of me all the same.

So now there remains the question of what to do with them, yet again, or with the me that breeds these destructive thoughts and words…

I don’t know.  To shut them out would be to deny a part of me, and maybe invalidate my good thoughts and words as there can be no light without the dark.

But they are heavy words and sink to the bottom of my soul where they lay neglected but never ever forgotten, and never formally put to rest.

Their dark lingers in my mind as it is familiar and known. I know the depths to which they will take me if I let them, as well as the indifference they feel for my heart and soul.

I should stay away from them as they are cruel in their relentless pursuit of my mind and thoughts, in their attitudes of sorrow and despair.

I think I’ll tuck them away in a folder at the bottom corner of my desktop. Out of the way but not forgotten as

To ignore them gives them power, a power over me that unattended can take me to places I would rather not go, bad places,

 Their places,

Dark and heavy places,

But still they remain

Mine to claim.

 

A Play of Stillness (2/24/17)

On By MiCoIn Buddhism Meditation space, changes, courage, darkness, dreams, hope, light, love, nature, poetry, spirit, thanks2 Comments

I sit on the stage.

Darkness surrounds me.

The audience, if there is one,

Is silent.

There are no props on the stage

Only layers of black curtains.

Although I don’t remember auditioning for a play,

Here I am.

It’s odd that there is no music or

Other players.

So I sit in my darkness for what seems like forever

But there is still no sound, no movement, no life.

Just stillness and a mild sense of confusion.

I feel the space in front of me more than see it.

I sense it is there, curtains in a circular shape

A boundary perhaps but between what and where?

The other side is unknown and unknowable

Until the show begins.

But will it begin?  Still there is no script or other players,

No music or lights.

I run my hand through my hair to prove to myself that

I am still real in this sensory deprived place.

But what is real about an empty stage, a wordless play,

A playerless story?

I begin to realize that

None of those things matter.

All is stillness and non-duality.

The “show” never begins and never ends.

The circular curtain and empty stage contain eternity

And this space is an empty place within me.

There will be no play, no script,

No lights, no audience.

This story is mine, the darkness my stillness,

The only witness, me.

Just me as part of the universal consciousness

Acting out a play of well-rehearsed lines without ever saying a word.

Each player a part of the whole

Never separate from the others.

All joined in the cosmic drama

Of existence.

The curtain rises on one story, one actor, one consciousness

In an act that never ends.