Light spreads beneath my vision
Behind my tomorrow sifting
Into cactus green tea cups
Yellow tentacles undulate
Magical tendencies flirt nonchalance
Shadows too tired to pretend to flicker…
Shadows too tired
Tag Archives: meditation
Serenity
(Poem 331 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
“GOD, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the ability to change the things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
When I’m able to sink
into silent, safe serenity,
the surrounding uncertainty
stills and settles
like stones in a bowl
that each have a place
nestled one on top
of the other.
Solid weightlessness
exists in this place
of serendipity and peace
that only arrives once
acceptance has forgotten
that change is even necessary,
and wisdom has loosened
her corset to surrender
herself to the sweet
sensation of release.
@Home Studio – 331st poem of the year
Runner ups for the Serenity photos to accompany my poem:
Becoming Supernatural
(Poem 320 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
To become supernatural
one must eat oranges
and play with kaleidoscopes,
listen to the blood pumping
through moving veins
and feel the pulse
in tips of toes.
If the past tries to creep
like a lingering rumor
up the brain stem,
one must unscrew
the scalp and release
the humors
to the heavens and beyond.
When the future
feels like a memory
of a once-forgotten story
told right now,
someone has reached
the pinnacle,
or started over.
Either way,
the electricity that hums
from an unknown source
downloads
unknowable truths
into highways of blood
and bone.
@Home Studio – 320th poem of the year (While reading Becoming Supernatural by Dr. Joe Dispenza.)
Dispenza, Dr. Joe, Becoming Supernatural, Hay House, 2017.
Runner ups for the Supernatural photos to accompany my poem:
I am happy and in love
(Poem 51 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I am happy and in love with my partner.
Choosing to love is not easy when he
forgets to put his towel in the hamper,
leaves a greasy cast iron skillet on the stove,
lets the rain destroy my box of mementos,
or flings open the door startling me again.
Falling in love happens effortlessly when he
brags about me in front of his friends,
asks how he can support me as I grieve,
holds me close and lets me cry until I’m spent,
and makes time to play with our grandchildren.
Remembering to love is not simple when he
refuses to argue/walks away from my anger,
chews too loudly while leaving crumbs,
forgets what I’ve told him and blames me,
or acts irritated when asked to clean.
Being in love is a piece of cake when he
takes me to coffee shops to write and sip tea,
laughs unabashedly at TikToks with me,
says I’m smart and shows he values my ideas,
and is a good sport with my giant family.
I am happy and in love with my partner.
@Home Studio – 51st poem of the year
Runner ups for the AI hands (which AI really struggles with for some reason, so these are really funny) photos to accompany my poem:
I am living a vibrant spiritual life
(Poem 44 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I am living a vibrant spiritual life,
full of love and joy, peace and calm.
The paraphernalia of ritual surrounds
me in my cave of books and comfort.
An open door invites a breeze as
animals saunter in and out on a whim.
We check on each other through
thought and glance, caress and scent.
Fanciful shadows from candlelight
play with the eye of an owl who
nestles against his own moon.
Time slips through my hourglass,
but I don’t mind because this moment
is eternally engrained in the white sand.
@Home Studio – 44th poem of the year
Runner ups for the owl moon photos to accompany my poem:
I am at peace with myself and those I love
(Poem 43 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I am at peace with myself and those I love.
No animosity hangs stale in the air,
nor anger brews and steeps in silence.
I have forgiven and released, at least for now,
resentments or regrets I may have nursed.
Prayers of blessing, for protection, of thanks
abound this morning as I start my day.
If I steer clear of them, this love I feel, so pure,
so genuine, might last until lunch time.
@Home Studio – 43rd poem of the year
Runner ups for the at peace with those I love photos to accompany my poem:
Lesson 9 The Way of the Wizard
(Poem 39 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
“Mortals are wrapped in words the way a spider wraps flies in gossamer,” Merlin claimed. “Only in this case, you are both spider and fly because you imprison yourself in your own web.” -Merlin, Deepak Chopra’s The Way of the Wizard
Words have power to heal,
kill, encourage, destroy.
Whoever has been laughed at,
mocked, shamed, or guilted
knows the power hateful words
hold to harm and concuss,
inflicting future internal strife
over how to cope without
eating yourself to death.
If you are both spider and fly
You must make peace with
pain and celebration emanating
from you, as you are both
cause and consequence,
beginning and end,
now and then,
sinner and sin.
@Home Studio – 39th poem of the year
Chopra, Deepak. The Way of the Wizard: Twenty Spiritual Lessons for Creating the Life You Want. New York, United States of America, Harmony Books, 1995, pp.64-70.
The First Time Salting
(Poem 3 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
The first time salting
my window sills, I waited
until everyone in the house
was asleep.
No one could question
the protective measures
taken on their behalf
nor doubt their
efficacy.
Burning sage for the first time
took place behind closed doors,
any scent detected probably
thought to be a strange new
candle, since those are
understood.
My rock collection
continues to grow,
new shades of polished
gems and crystals join
dinosaur excrement and
fossilized wood,
each has its place.
@Genuine Joe’s mid-day – 3rd poem of the year
Will My Awakening
(Poem 2 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Will my awakening
shock me like a lightning strike
send sizzling energy
bolting from my fingertips
and announce to all in
earshot that I am alive?
Will my awakening
descend gentle as
falling snow and land
on my eyelashes
spinning a new reality
forever in a moment?
Or will my awakening
happen in my sleep
while I dream, a bit of
saliva drooled onto my pillow
and I have no idea it
even happened?
@Genuine Joe’s mid-day – 2nd poem of the year
Mahogany suede-scented candle
Mahogany suede-scented candle
lifts my prayers heavenward
petitions spit like sparks out
to the beyond where golden stars
balance on black silk with shiny
pearl strings of galaxies in a coil
teakwood, oil, flame, light
magic cradled in Japanese pottery
hands pressed clay together
in meditative knowing aligning
time, place, now, never
where all the answers sit
comfortably together unbothered
by the questions.
rebekahjmarshall 