. . . sun peeking round cotton-puff clouds.
I wander meadows flush with buttercups
trees rustling in breeze.
Leaves gleam myriad shades of green.
Sitting cross-legged, eyes closed
hands prayer-folded to chest
soothed by buttercups,
undulating tall grasses.
Serenity . . .
I grudgingly answer call.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets where it’s Quadrille Monday and the word to be used within the body of our exactly 44 word poem (sans title) is flush.
In this Covid-19 era, I find myself doing yoga and meditating every day. This morning the telephone rudely interrupted me – motivating this post. Stay safe everyone!
Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Photo from Pixabay.com
Follow a meditative path
out of stress, anxiety, and fear.
Open your heart to blessings,
lean into possibilities.
Serenity is after all, ours to achieve.
It’s National Poetry Month and across the globe, people will take up the challenge to write one poem every day in the month of April. NAPOWRIMO challenges us to write a self portrait about an action that is a part of who we are. Imaginary Garden with Real Toads gives us the word “fool” as a prompt, since it is April 1.
Thus I’ve written an acrostic poem (first letter of each line spells FOOL) about meditation, which I find particularly helpful in these challenging times. Every morning I am on the yoga mat: meditation, stretches – all to wonderful calming Zen-like music. It is a quieting space I deliberately enter into and treasure. It centers me for the day.
Photo taken last summer in Provincetown, Cape Cod.
Child of the moon, wed to earth.
Mossy slippers quiet her step.
Willow frond skirt swishes in breeze,
natural scent blends with trees.
Seek her healing balm
amongst urban parks, forest glens.
Or retreat within your mind,
savor soothing rivulets of calm.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets where it’s Quadrille Monday. Kim is our able and creative pub tender. She asks us to use the word “earth” in our exactly-44-word poem. Photo taken on our trip to Ireland. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
Sa ta na ma . . . sa ta na ma . . . lying on my back, arms easily at sides, eyes closed, I move inward. Sa ta na ma . . . sometimes sitting cross-legged, hands in prayer-position at my chest, eyes closed, I slide inward. Sa ta na ma . . . rhythmically said within my mind.
sa . . .the beginning, infinity, all that ever was, is or will be
ta . . . existence within infinity
na . . . death, transformation
ma . . . rebirth, regeneration, joy within infinity
Eyes closed, relaxed, at ease. Sometimes there light. An aura. An absence present. I move within me, with all.
snow owl perched in field
colors absent nature sees
silently feels me
Haibun written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets where today we’re asked to write about sounds we hear within ourselves. Haibun: one or two paragraphs of prose, cannot be fiction; followed by a haiku that includes a seasonal reference.