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Posts Tagged ‘Spiritual poetry’


See more Spiritual Thursday posts at Donna’s site, Mainly Write.

 

Donna is gathering our Spiritual Journey First Thursday posts at her blog. Donna recently moved, so she chose “Home” as our topic for today.

We often look to our church as a spiritual home.  But is this the only place where God lives?  Like the saying “Home is where the heart is,” God is where the heart is, too.  Just because you may not have a place to worship, God’s presence does not leave you.  God is in my mind…always.

I also believe that God is in my poetry.  Wherever I am, the world opens and reveals poems.  This week is only the first week of February, but the temperatures have climbed above 70 degrees, and the Japanese magnolias are blooming.  On my early morning walk, I pass a lonely tree in a vacant lot.  It’s obviously not trimmed or cared for and in many ways looks like it’s dead, but not this week.  So I wrote a poem about it. Of course.

The first stanza is a direct quote from The Time is Now, a weekly writing prompt from Poets and Writers.

A Day on Saturn

A day on Saturn
lasts a total of ten hours,
thirty-three minutes,
and thirty-eight seconds,
according to the Astrophysical Journal.

When I pass the Japanese magnolia,
I think it must be dying.
Lichen clusters on its branches;
a hollowed trunk carved like a cave
invites infesting insects.

And yet, there they are
in the middle of winter, pink
blossom buds
point to the sky
spot Saturn

like an astrolabe
aligns the planets,
from a leafless display

balancing a day.

–Margaret Simon, all rights reserved

 

 

 

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You shine in glory
lighten my discontent
with the balm of love

(c) Margaret Simon
Christmas hymn found haiku

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National Poetry Month 2018

 

Garden of Eden

Garden of Eden

My dog lies heavy as the storm moves through.
Worry keeps him close.
Rain streaks the window with tears.
We are safe inside.

Infinite line of tangled roots and vines,
God’s garden grows wild.
Endless labyrinth of life to life.
We are safe inside.

–Margaret Simon (c) 2018

Commentary: In this poem, I began with what was happening in the moment.  A storm was pounding, and my dog was afraid.  I held him on my lap.  As he relaxed, much like an infant, he became heavier on my lap.  I then moved to the drawing for interpretation.  I saw the white lines as the lines of connection of humanity.  When I looked for a synonym for connection, I found labyrinth which alliterated with life to life.

From PoemCrazy #25: “there may be a measurable field of energy for the buzz of life around moments and things.  Poems are alive this way. When a poem comes to me I have to tend to it like a small fish, a possum, a snake or a puppy, depending on the poem.  It’s often kicking and unruly.”

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Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for the Slice of Life Challenge.

National Poetry Month 2017

For the month of April, I have committed to writing a poem each day. I am not following any stricter rule than that one. Others in the poetry blogging community are doing themed poems. You can see everything that’s going on at Jama’s Alphabet Soup.

On Monday, my young student Jacob wrote an acrostic poem on the word faith. He was surprised by his own wisdom. I told him that I think there is a whirl of ideas in the universe and he was open for it.

Finding
An
Invitation
to
Hope

 

Thinking about Jacob’s inspiring poem and the ideas from the universe, I felt a pull to write a found poem from Bishop Jake’s blog post from Sunday. Jake Owensby is the Bishop of the Western Louisiana Episcopal Diocese. He writes beautifully at Looking for God in Messy Places about how to live a life of love and hope.  His post this week “Dry Bones and Living Flesh” inspired this poem.

Dry Bones

uprooted
nothing familiar
fleeing home
to stay alive
they leave behind
bones

Ezekiel had a vision
of those very dry bones.
The victors leave
the dead in an open grave,
a goldmine
of artifacts.

This was personal.
The baker’s daughter
he knew by her fragrance of yeast,
the grandmother rocking her grandchild,
the old stooped mason.

War is always the same.
Death, senseless, helpless
“collateral damage” No, this was personal-
husbands, wives, siblings, grandchildren.

Homes left in ruins,
People without community,
Dry bones
watered with survivor’s tears.

God takes these bones
clothes them
gives them breath.
God promises
through us
to be a new home
for the exiled.
Hear the call.

–Margaret Simon

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NPM2016

Day 5 is with Liz today. Click here.

Day 5 is with Liz today. Click here.

Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.

Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.

For Spiritual Thursday, we are reflecting on the word “Merciful” today, Bobbie Ann Taylor’s One Little Word.

foggy sunrise

A Merciful Cinquain

Failure
clouds my vision
like fog in the morning
drapes the coming sunshine in
mercy

Every morning I drive to my school in the country while the sun rises.  I am often in awe of the way the light plays in the sky.  This image of fog covering the sun made me think about my feelings of failure.  These are natural, I suppose, as a teacher who cares deeply for her work with children and as a writer putting her words out to the world every day.

Liz Steinglass inspired me to use a cinquain form (2, 4, 6, 8, then 2 syllable lines.)

One tenet of faith that I have trouble grasping is mercy.  We are already forgiven even before we ask it.  When I fail, I tend to wallow in self-doubt.  I need to repeat the mantra I am worthy until I believe it.

“Surely goodness and mercy will follow all of my days.  I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Psalm 23

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Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

 

sometimes-i-need-only-to-stand-where-im-to-be-blessed

 

Wait!

He said, “Wait here!”

Then he took a walk

just a short walk

into the garden

to talk

with the one who sent him,

the one with him always.

They didn’t wait.

They slept.

They couldn’t even stay awake for a moment.

 

When has he asked you to wait?

When did you need time to sort things out?

When did you sleep?  Forget?

And yet, every time, he comes back to you,

holds out his hand to you,

Forgives,

Loves,

Waits

for you.

–Margaret Simon

Reflection: This Spiritual Thursday post is reflecting on Holly Mueller’s One Little Word, Wait. I didn’t want to write about wait.  I’ve recently had to wait through an injury, wait for healing to come.  The healing has come but slowly.  In the meantime, I had to be patient and understand that I could not be who I wanted to be while I was healing.  Some days, many days, I had to stop and rest.  I needed to wait.  But I was frustrated; I didn’t want to stay here.  In the moment I wrote the word wait, I imagined Jesus’s request of his disciples in the garden of Gethsemane to wait while he prayed.  I realize that I can wait.  And, like Mary Oliver, I will be blessed even if all I do is stand right here.

Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.

Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.

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Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.

Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.

For Spiritual Thursday, we are writing about each other’s One Little Word for 2016. Today we are exploring Violet Nesdoly’s word, Mindfulness.

Mindfulness

My mind is full
like the bayou after a long rain
that today blows wild
waves, cold and moving.

My mind wants to rest
like the dog at my side
snoring softly,
warm and content.

My mind seeks to understand
like that student who questions
and questions, driving me
to stop and think.

My mind is aware
of light coming through the window,
a spotlight on my hands,
open and close.

My mind turns to you
like the wind chimes chanting
Om mani padme hum
carries me across the rough water
to a place of peace.

Mindfulness, much like my own One Little Word present, means to “be still and know that I am God.” I sing this mantra over and over, making my mind clear to notice the spirit within me, to notice that I am not alone, to notice my love is enough. Stillness leads me to understanding. Presence to mindfulness.

Morning birdbath by Margaret Simon

Morning birdbath by Margaret Simon

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