*Yes, it’s Thursday once more. So what? you ask.
Well, around here, Thursday means homemade pizza will grace our dinner table…and all its sweetness fwill fill the house.*
Each moment a Feast
by Joan Myles
suddenly I am here
the basil
the cilantro
tomatoes and peppers and onions
and your words are with me
alive with the olive oil
sinking into my awareness
the dough and I have become one
as I am
suddenly present
where you are where
we are together
in this moment
what do the birds knowas the rain gathers
their song remains constant
even behind the veil
I haven’t flown awayin case you have been wondering
i’m seeking stillness
pondering
how best to simply play
my heartsong
conjuring
sweetness day by day
On One Foot
…brief updates about me and those I love
*Still feeling a bit like I just woke up from a bad dream. Like the last 14 months were some kind of poorly written horror show. But now I have found the remote and happily change the channel.
*Meanwhile Spring is blooming everywhere around me. Birds twitter in the trees, hum and hop in my garden.
*And I’m buzzing again too!
Returning to yoga via ACB’s weekly Zoom sessions.
Walking daily with J.
Even dabbling on the piano as I try to reclaim a few tunes.
*And while the sunflower seeds we planted mid-April seem to have been duds or perhaps succumbed to late frost, our most recent plantings are sprouting!
*silver haired blind ladycartwheeling amid blooming trees*
So how are you, my Darlings?
And how are you blooming?
Wishing you sweetness and Love!
The Meditation of Reading a Poem
by Joan Myles
What is it about poetry that so readily connects readers with their spiritual selves?
Is it the access it provides to imagination? Is it the use of metaphor and simile that enables us to think outside the physical box? Is it the expansive qualities of mind such modes of thinking enliven?
Take a few deep breaths and slowly read the following poem by Mary Oliver (1935-2019) .Let the words carry you away andseehow far you fly.
Seven White Butterflies
by Mary Oliver
Seven white butterflies
delicate in a hurry look
how they bang the pages
of their wings as they fly
to the fields of mustard yellow
and orange and plain
gold all eternity
is in the moment this is what
Blake said what Whitman said such
wisdom in the agitated
motions of the mind seven
dancers floating
even as worms toward
paradise see how they banter
and riot and rise
to the trees flutter
lob their white bodies into
the invisible wind weightless
lacy willing
to deliver themselves unto
the universe now each settles
down on a yellow thumb on a
brassy stem now
all seven are rapidly sipping
from the golden towers who
would have thought it could be so easy?
Did you feel yourself carried into the scene–almost transformed into a fluttering being yourself?
Did you hear a deeper message apart from the words and images on the page?
Now go back and read the poem without pausing at line ends or stanza breaks.
*I’ll wait for you*
Did you feel the rush and ecstasy of discovery?
Did you experience the fulfillment and peace of sipping alongside your lofty fellows?
Did you find the delight of realization with the final question?
I would love to know your thoughts and your experience with this poem
Please feel free to share them with me in the comments or at the contact page.
Wishing you sweetness and fanciful flight,
About me:
Poetry and I go way back. Nursery rhymes, Dr. Seuss, limricks and ballads–my interest and involvement expanded year by year until finally I came to hear poems everywhere. Poetic rhythms soothe and uplift me. Poetic imagery and freedom of language excite my imagination. And poetry’s almost magical lilt and layering of the sensible with the elusive awaken my understanding and appreciation of Life.
You might say poety sings my spirit.
Of course my favorite poets shift as I evolve. Most recently, I resonate with Mary Oliver’s simple words and startling phrases. She never fails to bring me back to Creation, to Spirit, to myself. And when I want a jolt, an out-of-myself into who-knows-where experience I turn to Roberto Juarroz with his symbolic imagery and obtuse view of reality.
For me, poetry is not just a way to express myself. Poetry is where I dwell. And writing a poem is simply exhaling what I receive with each breath of Life I am given.
What could be sweeter!
*My morning started with a sweet surprise–a review of my latest poetry collection by author Abbie Johnson Taylor! Wishing you blessings galore and sweet surprises as you move through your day*
by Joan Myles
Praised for its stunning images and lilting language, One Glittering Wing is a collection of playful, prayerful, mournful, powerful poems which deeply speak its author.
I met the author, Joan Myles, years ago through Behind Our Eyes, a writers’ organization to which I belong. Her work, filled with plenty of vivid imagery, has always fascinated me. I reviewed her first collection, One with Willows, here after it came out.
In One Glittering Wing, I like the way Joan incorporates the collection’s title into her poem, “Death.” I can relate to the poems, “Walls,” “Tammy,” and “Shivah” as a result of my personal experiences. My favorite is “Dancing with Emily Dickenson,” which inspired me to write a poem about dancing with Billy Collins. Other poems touch on nature, human relations, and additional subjects sure to resonate…
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When I Get to be a Composer
By Langston Hughes
When I get to be a composer
I’m gonna write me some music about
Daybreak in Alabama
And I’m gonna put the purtiest songs in it
Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist
And falling out of heaven like soft dew.
I’m gonna put some tall tall trees in it
And the scent of pine needles
And the smell of red clay after rain
And long red necks
And poppy colored faces
And big brown arms
And the field daisy eyes
Of black and white black white black people
And I’m gonna put white hands
And black hands and brown and yellow hands
And red clay earth hands in it
Touching everybody with kind fingers
And touching each other natural as dew
In that dawn of music when I
Get to be a composer
And write about daybreak
In Alabama.
Please excuse my tardiness
Occasionally I stray
Emerging once the visions pass–
Till then I’m far away
Residing in that mystic place
You find in rhyme and play
*I’m delighted to be featured in this month’s Two Pentacles newsletter–and you can be too! You will also find great ideas for waking up your muse.
Why not take a peek?*
Response
by Joan Myles
almost a whisper
can you hear it
a child’s voice
obscured by time
overgrown with aging vines
listen
she’s singing
sweet and giddy
singing my name
and I’m opening
myself
to sing along
