Poetry Cards

These are the cards discussed during our January 2011 tele-class: SoulCollage® and the Magic of Poetry, with SoulCollage® Facilitator Gail Warner, in California.


Over Coffee

This morning it is raining,
gently, while my wife is sleeping,
my dog curled up in my space.

And for some reason I’ve fallen
into the quiet basin of my heart
where all loves mix.  And there,
the friends and lovers and strangers
and the family I no longer talk to–
there,  they have all softened like
cardboard drifting in the ocean.

The light rain at the window is
saying, Don’t.  Don’t think too
hard, just swim.

Can it be—that all our lives
we’re just funny shaped cups and mugs
sometimes clear, sometimes not,
sometimes chipped, sometimes too
hot to hold.

Can it be—the whole sorry struggle
for a self is just to have something
sturdy enough to hold the love?

~mark nepo

*

It feels as though I make my way
through massive rock
like a vain of ore
alone, encased.

I am so deep inside it
I can’t see the path or any distance:
everything is close
and everything closing in on me
has turned to stone.

Since I still don’t know enough about pain, this terrible darkness makes me small.
If it’s you, though —-
press down hard on me, break in
that I may know the weight of your hand,
and you, the fullness of my cry.

~Rainer Maria Rilke, From The Book of Hours

*
*

The Silk Worm

I stood before a silk worm one day.
And that night my heart said to me,
“I can do things like that.
I can spin skies,
I can be woven into love
that can bring warmth to people;
I can be soft against a crying face,
I can be wings that lift,
and I can travel on my thousand feet
throughout the earth,
my sacks filled with the sacred.”

And I replied to my heart,
“Dear, can you really do all those things?”
And it just nodded “Yes”
in silence.
So we began and will never cease.

~Rumi

*

*

 

The Dawning of a New Day

Everyone knows that today is
an exceptional day.
Crowds begin to form
In anticipation of the flurry of awareness.
They celebrate the newness of life being
released and liberated on her way.
She holds her essence quietly as in a thoughtful pose.
Then with a gentleness of spirit she opens her hands and
it flutters into the next realm of existence.
The crowd breaks forth in jubilation
Welcoming one of its own.

Thus is the dawning of a brand new day.  — LM

*

*

The Cycle

I am an open minded innocent
at the heart of curiosity
holding what is precious
not clinging, no fear.
I am a dark shamanic grandfather
looking beyond what
my limited reality dictates
Still holding gently.
I am a delicate butterfly resting
Living without effort
my beautiful fragile design
cupped with tenderness.
I am the multitude who dance
to the depth of the drum
celebrating unrestrained joy
no longer holding on.   — GW

*

*

I’m spending time with Affirmative Bird
Perched safely above a sea of Eco-Boredom.
Dottie has the blahs, which she imagines
As an ocean of green pea soup
And freshly ground pepper.
This is what comes of wearing red
And taking your resemblance to Snow White
To ridiculous extremes. Drowning,
She reaches for a fleshy rope and screams,
But goldy, suffering from epidural blueness,
Hops on a popcorn cloud and flies away
From that black, gaping maw.
When you’re sinking, fighting off the blahs,
The blues, flesh, or green peas,
Try keeping your mouth shut.  — RM

*
*

Blah, Blah, Blah

Save me from the blah, blah, blah
of stories that I tell myself
Be the skeptical fish who swims beyond
the blah, blah, blah
buoyed by a popcorn cloud.
Be the torn edge of life
open and tenderized by the tearing
and the tearing.
Be the yellow bird
reaching for the single
sweet dew drop.
Be the YES!
emphatic about not
drowning in the blah, blah, blah.  — GW

*
*

The Golden Core

The tree has much to tell us about life.
Cut it down and observe the rings inside reaching into it’s core.
There are cracks that represent the many insults it has had to endure.
But the tree continued to grow around those wounds.
It seems that the core is hard as stone and is able to keep the tree standing tall.
Life is like that.
There is a core of golden essence in each us when,
If held and cherished gently enough will fortify us

To continue to grow in spite of the insults we are subjected to confront.  —LM

*

My Grandparents

Seasoned oak trees of love
Embraced us with hugs and heart,
Saying, “Zlato Moje”
Croatian for precious gold.
Now as I am waiting for my
grandchild’s birth,
I understand  how precious life becomes
What does  tree know?
It knows  to stand and
give shelter.
What do hands know?
They know to find and
hold gently the gold.
What does golden treasure know?
It knows  to radiate.  — GW

Mounting the Elephant

Oh how we struggle
to find our birthright
to get into the saddle of it
to finally be able to sit upright
in the immensity of our being.
Our human mounting humorous.
Awkward, yet committed
holding on for dear life
pulled from above, pushed from behind.
Oh, sweet humility.
Don’t give up!
Be the bell that still can ring
Surrender ideas of a perfect offering.
See how the elephant, who will carry you
Kneels down to help.
See how many helpers
Are assisting you in owning your birthright.

— By Gail Warner