I wake up tired
heavy
closed
tight
I don’t wanna get up
I don’t wanna leave my bed
I don’t wanna leave my house
and you
can’t
make
me.
tired
heavy
foggy
I want to wake up.
To learn more about my 108 Poetry Challenge or to donate click here.
Some are gone
remembered
by ivy
in the living room.
Some are alive
holding their first
great
grand
child.
And pouring cups of tea
to keep us warm.
To learn more about my 108 Poetry Challenge or to donate click here.
how can I embody peace
in this city
that whirls
around me?
a deep breath
how can I embody hope
in this world
full of pain
and war?
a deep breath
enters my body.
a deep breath
enters my body
a deep.
To learn more about my 108 Poetry Challenge or to donate click here.
can be unbearable
on days
when I cannot catch my breath
life in the city
can be so vibrant
my heart
exploding
in the dance
I climb a tree in the park
and sleep like a baby
life in the city
can be calm
walking down the railpath
cool breeze and crickets
I am home.
To learn more about my 108 Poetry Challenge or to donate click here.
Writing poetry
requires me to stop and be still
in this city that is pulsing
full of life.
In this city that is pulsing
full of anxiety.
Writing poetry
requires me to stop
breath
feel my feet on the ground
sit bones on the chair
stop.
To learn more about my 108 Poetry Challenge or to donate click here.
At 27
Is different
Than at 22.
Less furiousness,
Wildness
Fewer plane tickets purchased.
Late nights, walks in the evening.
Picnics, bike rides and beauty.
Happiness.
Falling in love at 27,
Is different.
Last night I landed on my head at a dance class. I can’t quite remember what happened, but my hands weren’t free and I landed with a clunk, on my head.
Drama – the part of me that freaks out. What did I do wrong?? What can I do to make sure this never ever ever ever ever ever happens again? Was I being too bold? Too adventurous? Was I gunning for the spotlight? Too full of myself?
Facts – my neck is slightly sore. My mom, who is in from out of town, and is both a physiotherapist and a body worker, treated me this afternoon. After that I felt better.
Facts – nothing is broken. My body will heal. I have a small pain in my neck.
Drama – “How could you get injured?!” “How could you be so mortal?!” “How could you make such a fucking stupid mistake?!”
Facts – Get over yourself and get over the minor inconvenience of a small pain in the neck.
Landing on my head could have been serious, but luckily, this time, it wasn’t.
And I can see how the DRAMA runs into my life.
Often, if I’ve emailed or texted a friend and haven’t heard a response my immediate reaction is, “She hates me.” Along with a fictitious but believable enough storyline about why.
And finally – I am learning to say – enough with it. Get over your grand and polarizing speeches with the statements of never again shall I get hurt in that stupid way by enacting these thirteen pieces of personal preventative legislation. Enough with your dramatic interpretation of simple situations and the need for epic confrontations with family and friends to “get to the bottom of it.” Enough with it.
Life is simple and life is short. I have the choice of whether to be kind, or not, in each moment. And this kindness can extend to myself, to understanding that I do also make mistakes and that is okay,
Or not.
This is my choice.
and wine
he speaks with perfect diction
explaining the state of the climate
there are no solutions, he says
turning away
there’s no going back
a heaviness falls over the room
and so we eat more grapes, cheese and wine
great talk! says rich
striding over
eyes bright
his data is impeccable!
what’s the use of speaking
if there is no hope?
what’s the use of data
that spells doom?
I want data that feeds my soul
excites my mind
into drawing new connections
I want data that stirs me up
drives me forward
acting for a better future
I want data that changes the game
turns things upside down
in ways I’d never imagined possible
so I turn away from the wine, cheese, and grapes
away from the doomful data
and step out
into the night.
To learn more about my 108 Poetry Challenge or to donate click here.
and we’re off!
a pack on my back
a canoe on your head
we are travelling
we are going to nowhere in particular
except for you have a specific campsite in mind and a map
i have my book
you have your headphones
and we’ll lie in the dirt
beneath the trees
blissful
I can only write poetry at the side of a lake
I can only be free in the mountains
my mind is the lake
my body the mountain
and i can find freedom with you
To learn more about my 108 Poetry Challenge or to donate click here. All proceeds go to the Young Adult Program at Yasodhara Ashram.
forest kitty slinks into the bean tipi
chasing a mouse
he rips of its head
and leaves it
as an offering
on the ground
To learn more about my 108 Poetry Challenge or to donate click here.
