I've been thinking about the wisdom tale of the Two Wolves today, and creating a similar narrative to use tomorrow in church with bowls. Lookming at the bowls on the kitchen table, this poem came out in one swoop, and rather than edit and edit, I'll swoop it onto this wonderful space, where good seeds flourish.
Oh my goodness, Larry, this is beautiful, and I'm OBSESSED with the image of the heart as a bowl. That's just gorgeous. Would you mind if I borrow that image and try writing a poem of my own with it?
Thank you Lisa! You are a very kind writer! Yes, you are always welcome to use anything I share in any way you like. The bowls and the bucket of wiggle balls that filled the toxic bowl worked well in our All Ages message on Sunday!
I'm so glad Lisa tagged this poem in her latest post, Larry. I, too, love the image of the heart as a bowl. But the image of seeds of good growing without taking space and seeds of distortion and wounding filling space all too quickly was especially resonant. Powerful, Larry!
This is just lovely! "The sebaceous cyst on my neck, dark nut planted / with no fruit, I hope, ever" made me laugh aloud. I share your hope that it never fruits! And then these lines were so elegantly simple and thought provoking at once: "the seed of doubt, the seed of faith / both so small, so small." Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem!
This is very nice Margaret Ann. I like your use of seeds as metaphor. The ending is do sweet: “ The seed of an idea sprouting/taking quick form, lines and stanzas growing/ until the poem unfurls/ her face to the sun.”
I love this poem...like so many (of your poems), this one helps me see details of my world that I usually overlook. But this poem prompts me to give it a second or third take, and the results are delightful...
What a lovely poem, Lisa! Reading through it the first time, and listening to your spledndid reading, what caught my attention were the beautiful, lyrical descriptions of birds, and I thought, this must be the prompt: Birds! Then I read the prompt and had an AHA moment! It is seeds that's the prompt! Of course--you are a wisdom guide who usually avoids the linear path! The poem is wonderful, and that last stanza is a poem unto itself:
"sky to ground,
ground to worm,
worm to throat,
throat to song,
song to sugar,
rising."
You reference music in the poem, and these lines are true music. Thank you for leading us in such a lyrical and musical way!
Thank you so much, Larry! I found myself wondering if that last stanza felt like too much of a departure from the rhythm and vibe of the rest of the poem, but I liked it too much to leave it out. I appreciate your kind words and am so glad to hear it landed with you!
What a gorgeous and musical poem! I read it aloud twice just for the pleasure of hearing it spoken. I'd love it if you make it to the open mic - and love it if you read something there!
I'll definitely be there, Lisa, looking forward to hearing you all, I'll bring something. Looking forward to virtually connecting. What a great initiative!
This is lovely, Korie. There is so much depth and substance here; a poem that works on a mystical, spiritual and practical level, connecting one aspect of life to another. Thank you for sharing.
You're so welcome, Korie, and thank you for your kind words! Your poem is beautiful. Those first two lines immediately captivated me - "like the seed / we all must fall." So true and beautiful!
This poem goes perfectly with the first robin singing loudly (and in my mind joyfully) outside my window, reminding me that the earth goes on, inexorably. The seed will take root in the dirt that is last summer's leaves. Thank you!
Thank you, Scott! I'm glad to hear the first robin has found you - a chirped reminder that, as you so beautifully put it - "the earth goes on, inexorably."
I love this poem, Rebekah! I love the way you weave through the different seeds, buds flowers and herbs that ome from the seed, and what life must be like for those seeds and what they become. The ending is so precious and special:
"You: perennial./Every turn stronger,/more certain./Someday you will be/your own bouquet./Someday you will be/your own."
"Just a breath / past imaginary" is such delightful phrasing, but it's the ending of this poem that totally stole my heart! "Someday you will be / your own bouquet. Someday you will be / your own." Beautiful!
I've been thinking about the wisdom tale of the Two Wolves today, and creating a similar narrative to use tomorrow in church with bowls. Lookming at the bowls on the kitchen table, this poem came out in one swoop, and rather than edit and edit, I'll swoop it onto this wonderful space, where good seeds flourish.
^
Empty bowls sit on the tables,
open like hearts of children,
ready to receive bright seeds of life.
^
One bowl gets filled
with the seeds of destruction,
anger, fear, hate, jealousy, guilt,
bigotry, isolation, fury and oppression;
^
Until, at last, it is too full,
and the toxic stew spills over,
scouring the land,
contaminating everything in its path,
no longer able to receive
the seeds that will set it free.
^
Another bowl seems empty,
though it has been filled with
love, joy, hope, gratitude,
compassion, kindness, justice and mercy.
^
These seeds, though they grow,
do not take up space.
They leave the bowl full of the unseen grace,
the beautiful wisdom that listens;
Knowing with these seeds,
the bowls just expand and grow,
always open for new seeds to flourish.
Oh my goodness, Larry, this is beautiful, and I'm OBSESSED with the image of the heart as a bowl. That's just gorgeous. Would you mind if I borrow that image and try writing a poem of my own with it?
Thank you Lisa! You are a very kind writer! Yes, you are always welcome to use anything I share in any way you like. The bowls and the bucket of wiggle balls that filled the toxic bowl worked well in our All Ages message on Sunday!
I'm so glad Lisa tagged this poem in her latest post, Larry. I, too, love the image of the heart as a bowl. But the image of seeds of good growing without taking space and seeds of distortion and wounding filling space all too quickly was especially resonant. Powerful, Larry!
Thank you Keith!
Gorgeous twining of nature and philosophy, Lisa. Lovely, lovely work.
Thank you so much, Kim! And "twining" is such a lovely word.
Ah
So wonderful watching
The feathered survivors
Of the dinosaurs
Invited to a party
On the Ides of March
Shall I wear a Toga
Et Tu Lisa
Just a gallows humor on the sunsetting of something rhyming with flew. 🌪️♐️♐️♊️
Hahaha, I love your gallows humor! "Feathered survivors / of the dinosaurs" is so delicious!
This made me laugh, Jim! Any poetry space needs some good humor, gallows and gallow free!
Thanks Larry.
Gallows humor is better than none...
Seeds
.
I always think small, tiny, pinch
the hard little ball beneath my thumb
.
the sebaceous cyst on my neck, dark nut planted
with no fruit, I hope, ever
.
the chia seeds, black and swollen
the birdseed, round and golden
.
the seeds from the weed that we sent flying
with a little twist of the stem—the magic trick
.
the seed of doubt, the seed of faith
both so small, so small
.
the seed of an idea sprouting
taking quick form, lines and stanzas growing
until the poem unfurls
her face to the sun.
This is just lovely! "The sebaceous cyst on my neck, dark nut planted / with no fruit, I hope, ever" made me laugh aloud. I share your hope that it never fruits! And then these lines were so elegantly simple and thought provoking at once: "the seed of doubt, the seed of faith / both so small, so small." Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem!
Thank you for inspiring it, Lisa 💛. Prompts open my mind in a way that only prompts can—like little machetes clearing a path through a thicket.
Thank you for inspiring it, Lisa 💛. Prompts open my mind in a way that only prompts can—like little machetes clearing a path through a thicket.
This is very nice Margaret Ann. I like your use of seeds as metaphor. The ending is do sweet: “ The seed of an idea sprouting/taking quick form, lines and stanzas growing/ until the poem unfurls/ her face to the sun.”
Thank you, Larry!
I love this poem...like so many (of your poems), this one helps me see details of my world that I usually overlook. But this poem prompts me to give it a second or third take, and the results are delightful...
Thanks, Dad! I'm so glad. And I'm excited to get to share a bit of spring with you in person soon!
What a lovely poem, Lisa! Reading through it the first time, and listening to your spledndid reading, what caught my attention were the beautiful, lyrical descriptions of birds, and I thought, this must be the prompt: Birds! Then I read the prompt and had an AHA moment! It is seeds that's the prompt! Of course--you are a wisdom guide who usually avoids the linear path! The poem is wonderful, and that last stanza is a poem unto itself:
"sky to ground,
ground to worm,
worm to throat,
throat to song,
song to sugar,
rising."
You reference music in the poem, and these lines are true music. Thank you for leading us in such a lyrical and musical way!
Thank you so much, Larry! I found myself wondering if that last stanza felt like too much of a departure from the rhythm and vibe of the rest of the poem, but I liked it too much to leave it out. I appreciate your kind words and am so glad to hear it landed with you!
This is a beautiful poem, Lisa. Your whole post holds these opposites we are living with with such care. Thank you.
Thank you so much, LeeAnn! There are so many opposites to hold right now.
Lovely poem, really nice sounds. Open mic noted. Hope to make it! Here's a poem for your prompt
'Seeds'
we are the thought on the wing of a thing,
a song that sings its seed to flight
carrying desire, to future versions of ourselves
it might,
in wind, in fire ignite— we oar the distance between
rippling pollen, dreaming of tomorrow
What a gorgeous and musical poem! I read it aloud twice just for the pleasure of hearing it spoken. I'd love it if you make it to the open mic - and love it if you read something there!
I'll definitely be there, Lisa, looking forward to hearing you all, I'll bring something. Looking forward to virtually connecting. What a great initiative!
This a lovely poem. Six lines of mystical beauty, for sure. These lines are so tender and wise:
"a song that sings its seed to flight/carrying desire, to future versions of ourselves..." Thank you for sharing!
Thanks so much Larry!
Lisa, I love your poem (and your idea of birdsong making spring happen). What a beautiful thought.
Thank you, friend! 💚
Lovely poem read so beautifully.
Thank you so much, Laura! 💜
Like the seed,
We all must fall
To the barren ground,
Die the death
Of a jilted lover,
Cast away
By the one who
Birthed us,
Feel the sting
Of pelting rain
And lie in the darkness,
Forgotten entirely…
Until we are birthed anew,
Reaching for the light
Of humble hope,
Growing towards
A heaven where we
Are but one of many
Who bloom brightly
And produce
The fruit of Love.
This is lovely, Korie. There is so much depth and substance here; a poem that works on a mystical, spiritual and practical level, connecting one aspect of life to another. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks for the prompt, Lisa!
Also really like your poem and the idea of music bringing forth spring!
You're so welcome, Korie, and thank you for your kind words! Your poem is beautiful. Those first two lines immediately captivated me - "like the seed / we all must fall." So true and beautiful!
This is beautiful, Korie. A wonderful emotional journey that taps into my heart in such a wholistic way. I truly love the ending:
"Growing towards/A heaven where we/Are but one of many/Who bloom brightly/And produce/The fruit of Love."
Just lovely. And it leaves me with hope even in these challenging times.
This poem goes perfectly with the first robin singing loudly (and in my mind joyfully) outside my window, reminding me that the earth goes on, inexorably. The seed will take root in the dirt that is last summer's leaves. Thank you!
Thank you, Scott! I'm glad to hear the first robin has found you - a chirped reminder that, as you so beautifully put it - "the earth goes on, inexorably."
Excellent timing for lovely thoughts!🥰
Thank you so much, Mark! Your comments always feel like such kindness. 💚
You: speck of a seed
on bare dirt, untended,
unseen, just a breath
past imaginary
.
until you figured out
what the world wanted,
which was everything.
.
So you became
yellowbell, and the world
opened its hand.
You became balsamroot,
and the world came back
with jars. You became
lupine, and the world set up
kiosks and card readers.
You became yarrow
and the world said
Faster! More!
and you could not keep up
and your summer went
sideways.
.
When you browned,
though, that was only
one kind of end.
.
You: perennial.
Every turn stronger,
more certain.
Someday you will be
your own bouquet.
Someday you will be
your own.
I love this poem, Rebekah! I love the way you weave through the different seeds, buds flowers and herbs that ome from the seed, and what life must be like for those seeds and what they become. The ending is so precious and special:
"You: perennial./Every turn stronger,/more certain./Someday you will be/your own bouquet./Someday you will be/your own."
So wonderful! Thank you Rebekah!
"Just a breath / past imaginary" is such delightful phrasing, but it's the ending of this poem that totally stole my heart! "Someday you will be / your own bouquet. Someday you will be / your own." Beautiful!