31 Mar 2020
by jeannepoland
in complete forgiveness, Poetry
Tags: act to its rhythm, agenda, alive, believe it is given, blend, character defect, complete forgiveness, Dear Q, family advises, forgive, harmony, impetuously, mow them down, pandemic, proxy, sage advice, sage family, sorry, steam-roller, the wiser side, think before jumping, warning me
Dear Q
I am sorry I turned my back on you.
Frustrated you beyond measure by not listening to your sage advice.
You shared the data needed to be my proxy.
You shared to keep me alive in the pandemic.
I forgive you for claiming that I do what I want and not what my family advises.
That I choose my agenda, in spite of you.
Instead you ask me to avoid acting impetuously.
Many friends have asked me
“not to be a steam-roller.”
“not to mow them down”.
Wish I could weed out this unruly character defect.
Yes, I promise to think before jumping.
To imagine you warning me.
To hesitate and consider the wiser side.
To embrace my sage daughter and my sage family
and BLEND.
Then we will both know complete forgiveness
Believe it is given
And act to its rhythm
in HARMONY!
30 Mar 2020
by jeannepoland
in Poetry, Time is not my servant...
Tags: books poems, but my camera, cartoons, creative ideas, dance whirl, divinity, flow, flying static on the face of time, human path, illustrations, marches, menu, minute, nano second, not a caricature, nutritional s=delights, prickles in the snow, records my outfit my shoes and socks, robot, still and animated, Time is not my servant..., works of art
Time is not my servant
Time is not my servant
but my camera.
It records my outfit of the day
my shoes and socks
my chosen menu
and nutritional delights.
my creative ideas
and works of art:
illustrations
books
poems
cartoons (framed and free)
(still and animated).
time is not a caricature
but a robot.
it marches
never morphs.
I flow
dance and whirl around through the minutes
flying static
on the face of time.
it is not my servant, but a camera
of my human path to divinity
every day
every minute, every nano second
prickles in the snow!
quicksilver
27 Mar 2020
by jeannepoland
in changing the energy of the pandemic, Poetry
Tags: a life giving way, a reality, Caroline Myss, changing the energy, holy language, languge of the soul, potency, pure grace, the wirds you use impact, transformation, unreasonable, voltage, you create
https://www.myss.com/were-all-in-new-territory-video/
Caroline Myss
You talk to yourself more than anyone else. The words you use impact every part of yourself.
How you speak to yourself results in you creating, and recreating a reality.
Every word we use packs a creative punch.
I want to give you a word. We go from mental language – what I realized is that we need holy language.
Mental language doesn’t have any voltage.
Holy language is where we want to be. Holy language is the language of the soul. It has grace to it. It has potency.
It’s UNreasonable.
It carries light.
It carries that quality of potency.
That moves within us in a life giving way.
It’s the language of inner transformation. So, I’m going to give you a word today that is pure grace.
26 Mar 2020
by jeannepoland
in orange, Poetry
Tags: 2020, distancing, empty shelves, faith hope and love, fear, in good measure, in the kitchen the orange tulips came in spring, orange, quarantine, solidarity, the pandemic too
in the kitchen the orange tulips came in Spring, 2020
the pandemic too
distancing
quarantine
empty shelves
fear
solidarity
faith, hope and love…in good measure!
24 Mar 2020
by jeannepoland
in dandelion in the wind, Poetry
Tags: blowin' in the wind, dandelion in the wind, heart of my love, I heard you, I pass'd the church, little bells under my ear, long-stretched sighs, singing in the opera, so mournful, Solemn -Sweet Pipes of the wind, the midst of the quartet, the perfect Italian tenor, the pulse of you, the woods at dusk, the wrists around my head, Walt Whitman, winds of Autumn
blowin’ in the wind
I Heard You Solemn-Sweet Pipes of the Organ
by Walt Whitman
I heard you solemn-sweet pipes of the organ as last Sunday
morn I pass’d the church,
Winds of autumn, as I walk’d the woods at dusk I heard your
long-stretch’d sighs up above so mournful,
I heard the perfect Italian tenor singing at the opera, I heard
the soprano in the midst of the quartet singing;
Heart of my love! you too I heard murmuring low through
one of the wrists around my head,
Heard the pulse of you when all was still ringing little bells
last night under my ear.
“I Heard You Solemn-Sweet Pipes of the Organ” by Walt Whitman. Public domain.
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