All posts by joanmyles

About joanmyles

Poet. Writer. Check out my blog at www.JewniquelyMyself.com

Beautiful Day

Tip your invisible hat

To the morning because

It’s a beautiful day

No matter the level of sunshine

The fluff or flutter of clouds

The deluge outside your umbrella

Your eyes opened

And consciousness returned

And maybe you even heard something

A car going down the road

Or a train in the distance

Or if you are lucky

A bird or a dog

Something with breath and song

A voice Calling out to you

As Life calls out to each of us

Saying: Here I am

And you?

waiting

As the sun finally strides

Into the garden

We will all be waiting

The tomatoes with their lips

pursed plump and green ready

To blush into ripeness

The fuchsia stretching

Its inquisitive

Fingers

Around and through cage-

Bars for the promise

Too long withheld

And me cowering

Amid vanishing

Shadows

Clinging

To tattered illusions

winter ever was

Tears

Light and shadow
forever dance

Through my days and nights
Like salt and pepper

the Universe sprinkles
A little here

A bit more there
And sometimes it’s just too much

saltiness overwhelms me
I begin to sway and bob

Without knowing why
Until the sea welcomes me home

Every Day

Darling Friends,

Thank you for your patience as I learn the ins and outs of this new computer. My previous system was not courteous enough to let me know our time together was over, but just rudely abandonned me. Hopefully this new gadget will prove a kinder writing companion, and we can get back to the joy of interacting with you all.

For now, here is my offering for Mother’s Day.

Blessings and love to you!

***

Every Day

Every day

A miracle approaches

Timid as a doe

In early morning mist

Carefully testing the air

for possibilities

Seeking

Always to find

Safe haven for the unborn

Promise she carries

Poetry Endures

*A repost for the end of National Poetry Month*

Only crumbs in the cookie jar.
And the ice cream carton rests
Limp and exhausted in the trash.

April is nearly finished,
But poetry endures forever.

My children have grown up and moved out,
their shouts and play are mere echos
until grandchildren come bounding in.

But poetry lines my shelves,
plays hide-n-seek
in the corners of my emotions,
swirls me about in rhythmic strands,
delights me in solitude.

Sweet on my tongue,
bitterly questioning,
sacred irreverence.

Yes, April is fading.
Poetry endures forever.

FEATURED AUTHOR OF THE WEEK: JOAN MYLES AND HER NEW BOOK ONE WITH WILLOWS

Campbells World

It gives me great pleasure to introduce to you, newly published author, Joan Myles.

Before I send you forth to read all about her I’d just like to make mention that Joan is the first person to take my new interview challenge.

When I sent her the Featured Author of the Week questionnaire, I gave her the option to either A answer the questions in interview style, or B take the questions and answer them in Essay form. She has chosen the Essay and I must say, it is skillfully done and shows off her writing ability quite well.

Now, without further ado, I give you Joan…

FEATURED AUTHOR OF THE WEEK: JOAN MYLES

MARCH 2019

My name is Joan Myles. I grew up in the Midwest, in St. Louis, and have been delighted to live in Oregon

for the past 20 years. My family and I moved here for…

View original post 1,097 more words

What’s the Difference?

*In honor of the first night of Passover, a repost from April, 2016*

Every year Passover brings us together—families and friends, congregation members and guests, Jews and non-Jews, adults, children and teens—to tell a story. And whether the story is factually correct or not doesn’t matter half as much as the way the story is experienced in a living voice amid the passion and drama of everyday modernity.

Because we’re not just telling a story. We’re asking a very important question: What’s the difference?

This is no mere apathetic shrug of a question, but a deep, heartfelt inquiry.

In fact, the Biblical telling begins by asking the question through the lives of a few brave individuals who chose compassion as their means of social disobedience. The midwives Shifrah and Puah who risked their lives by rescuing newborn boys from Pharoah’s death decree, and the unnamed daughter of Pharoah who adopted a Hebrew infant as her own son, each knew something bigger was at stake. By acting outside conformity, they became the difference.

Miriam, too, took a risk when she stepped out of the shadows to inform Pharoah’s daughter about a wet-nurse for the Hebrew foundling. Her words of strength and joy continued to make a difference as the people journeyed through the wilderness.

And the Seder asks the question again and again, What’s the difference?

Between this night and all other nights?

Between leavened bread and unleavened bread?

Between the ways our children learn?

Between one people’s yearning for liberty 3000 years ago and those still yearning today?

And most important, what difference will each of us make in the unfolding of our lives?