I love poems – they are a powerful way of conveying beauty. I think all poems are beautiful because the person writing had to be inspired by something enough to search for the right words, and that’s always beautiful to me.
I’ll start with one of the earliest poems I have a picture of:
I don’t know how I knew this Langston Hughes poem. I can only remember where I wrote it, sitting near the lake edge at a playground in the park. I’d found a dead turtle, basically just the empty shell. Looked up and saw birds flying and then I just started to write, in cursive! I remember this notebook too, the cover was a blue fabric with a yarn that tied around it, and thick pages from recycled paper. I don’t know where it is, somewhere in storage. My parents gave me so many books as a child. At an early age I was already a dreamer…
Short poems inspired by photos I’ve taken:
…
I am a stepping stone
I walk alone
Forgetting myself
Not letting myself get ahead
I fall backwards
While they go past me
Listening to their laughter
Losing all my passions
Living on rations
Of hope, of dreams, of what I have to offer
Just to be a stepping stone
A tree’s silhouette,
Looming clouds,
Winter takes its time.
Fragile petals fade,
blooming only for a day,
essence of Summer.
Slow rainy morning,
listening to Roses,
quietly sing for sun.
Long summer evening,
warmth’s timid breezing,
golden brown gleaming,
so full of meaning.
Butterflies and blue skies,
remind me of your kind eyes,
gazing up between cries,
darting in hopeful disguise.
I wish I were a little flower,
I wish I couldn’t count the hour,
I wish I had but one power,
to blossom after a heavy shower.
In the wind of the great big sky,
distant clouds drifting by,
there our memories go.
Deep blue clouds,
moving fast into the abyss,
you’ve taken me with you.
Daydreaming flower,
where have you travelled to now,
far from rooted ground.
With vivid colors,
giving us a chance,
warmth of Spring returns,
to show us how to dance.
Though small and tattered,
your purple scattered,
across open fields,
I saw it, you mattered.
Sweet reminder,
painted on petals,
legible to the heart.
Silhouette against the dusk,
sing a song of Spring,
on cold bare branches, swaying,
slowly darkening.
Misty blue dusk,
whole sky full of grey clouds,
reflected in a drop.
Bare and cold branches,
comfort the Earth,
with honesty.
Rain drop between rose petals,
show me how to cry,
when nobody is looking.
I wanted to share a few more poems from my childhood, since recently my mother gave me a bag full of journals. (April 2021)
Dream Poem (Sep. 24, 2021 – 4:30am)
Impractical dreams
Jolted me awake
I prayed for these to stop
For someone else to take
Why do they fill my head
What’s the point of it all
When I thought I’d told myself enough
How I always felt so small
So unimportant to you and not the one
That whatever we had wasn’t even fun
It doesn’t matter to my heart
Who finds a way to spin
To beat faster and fantasize about what could have been
No words to say and I should never
It would only break my spirit once again
Leave me empty and hopeless forever
Took me years of crying, shame and doubt
To remember you still, going down this route
I have no secrets like this – it isn’t right
I know that it would cause a huge fight
I thought I removed you from my life
Yet you drove me crazy in some other way
Held me in a story of unending pain
I have nothing to gain from the dreams only this:
That my world was shaken by the thought of your kiss
Writing Challenge (Day 3) 1/12/2021
Climbing through time and life, stay connected to body
How do you imagine the journey of life, how to represent it? Use image that comes to you, use your age
Use words:
Braids
Hungry
Less
Wise
Poem:
Tiny braids of long ropes
Twisted together
Waiting to be unraveled
Waiting for a gust of wind
To run and let go in
To watch it fly
Unravelling, higher, pulling slowly at the sky
Kite of dreams
Kite of life
Staying adrift if it can
With less pull, more tug
Ropes held tight, a wise decision
Evading obstacles, moving stillness
Twenty-eight minutes up high
Time always runs out
Made to rise but always coming down
Inevitable fall, reeling in
Hungry for the ground
Writing Challenge (Day 4) 1/13/2021
Write from the body, not the head – integrate mind, body, and spirit
Put aside nervous judgmental mind, we can tap into our best qualities if we use “larger of container of who we are” – get out of our own way, step into the work we are meant to do in this world
We are always in the process of transformation, we can transform our loss and bitterness
What do you want to change yourself to?
Use words:
Bitter
Bell
Encounter
Silent
Flashing
Name
Poem:
In the bitter cold of a deep winter night
Beneath the frozen ground
A silent seed awaits to sprout
Without any sight or sound
No sign, no name, nothing yet
Only one purpose engrained
It could never forget
With flashing lightning and rolling thunder
The church bell rings
Footsteps knocking from above
First encounter of Spring
Then it changes, then it sprouts
Becoming a beautiful flower
Staring the process all over again
Channeling Passions 
Wow. Beautiful
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