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Showing posts from April, 2014

SHAKTI IS HOME by Andreja Cepus

This poem emerged from a ‘now’ space…
It’s a time where everything is Divine. From that Divine moment individual Shakti energy is flowing through in all her power again. She is ready to be embraced and embodied in our women hearts. Shakti is ready to be awakened as we women unite in a sacred marriage of the powers of shadow and light.
In fully embracing the Shakti within us, we will finally live it, integrated into the Oneness, as we came here to live it. And become again a part of big picture of Life.

Shakti is Home
In one simple moment She realized It's Shakti. Her own Universal Heritage, Coming back. Coming out. Standing in front of Her, asking to be freed, To be loved and accepted in her original habitat.
She opened her heart To fully embrace the Shakti within. Her own Shakti within Divine Universal One. In full wild power, Her wilderness expressed and seen. And She understood How very much She was afraid of it. Of Her own Shakti Misused, Abused, Mysteriously stolen, disempowered. Outside the b…

HER DARK AND LIGHT AND COLOR by Mariann Martland

Darkness can feel like an all-consuming power… It can force shadows on all the light and colour that our life holds. Poetry breaks through this for me, embracing the dark with its light, allowing color to radiate through its shade, merging dark and light and color together as one…
Her Dark and Light and Color The light is calling her.
She can hear it as it shines in the distance.
She can see how it covers the sky with all shades of beauty.
She can feel it capturing the night, moulding with it, creating shade and color of artistic magnitude. But the darkness holds her down.
Holds her still.
Holds her captive.
It grips every morsel of her interior world, pulling all exterior existence into its lonely prison.
It is strong,
Strong enough to suck the light into its terror.
Once taken, her light proves a greater power as it radiates with her darkness, as a canvas of kaleidoscopic colour,
Highlighting each ugliness she hides, in all of her dark and light and color.

Mariann Martlandis discovering a…

LAZY DAISY DAYS WITH YOU by Laura Kutney

After my father took his life five years ago, I was completely devastated and broken…
 I cried rivers of tears until my eyes were so swollen that I could barely open them. For a few days following his death I hallucinated that birds were flying around in my house---and I was not on drugs.
After the initial shock wore off a bit, I went through all the stages of grief again and again. I think I will always be going through grief in smaller ways throughout my life.
At some point, about 3 ½ years later, when I could think once again about the good memories of my dad, this poem just flowed out of me on Christmas Eve. Usually holidays are the hardest times without my father, but I believe I became more grateful for him after his death than before.
The poem is not about my father’s death, but instead, celebrates the bond of love that we had and still have to this day. I know that he will always be alive inside of my heart.
We have all come of age, loved and lost and had people who heavily influen…

THE MOON IS STILL SILVER by Victoria Erickson

This poem partly stems from my fierce connection with nature…
And it stems from the sky, and partly from my fascination with how we hold things in our bodies long after they’re gone.
I’ve also always been amazed by the simple concept that the earth will continue to spin no matter what type of heartbreak is happening or how much we long for it to stop. That’s the thing about life, really. We need to keep going, and we need to find some relief from the beauty around us.


The Moon is Still Silver
“I meant to tell you  the moon is still silver. It still rises same as it used to rise, shedding light onto cities and lands softened by the coming of night.
I meant to tell you that I still gaze up, same as when you were here,  and that in the stillest of hours while carrying a heart  as wide as the sea, if I soak in that moon,  it may bring some relief.
I meant to tell you that I still taste your song in me.  It comes in waves under silent skies, It threatens my sanity. 
How you came and you went  long before I c…

ALL GLORIES TO SRI RADHA by Karnamrita Dasi

Imagine a world in which females were honored for their power, their wisdom, their beauty and their ability to love most purely….
Thousands of years ago, the bhakti yoga tradition, did just that, and placed at the very heart of their most sacred texts--the Bhagavata Purana--the voices of women!
These very extraordinary females are the Goddess Radha and her cowherd maidens of Vrindavan, the Gopis, whose poetic words and songs continue to illuminate and inspire the spiritual practices of millions of souls around the world today.
Vrindavan, also known as Vraj, is a town in the Mathura district of Uttar Pradesh, India. It is the site of an ancient forest, which is the region where according to the Mahabharata—a grand Epic of Sanskrit literature dating back to the 3000 BC—the Goddess Radha, and her beloved, Krishna spent their childhood days, together with the cowherd girls and boys (or Gopis and Gopas). Most ironically, many of the girls and women who live in Vrindavan today, face incredibl…

I AM by Shivana Sharma

In the Hindu tradition Dhar is in its simplest form a liquid offering made to the Divine…
My expression of my love, my poetry is my Dhar.
For me, my poem offering below is my looking beyond my physical challenges. It looks deep within my heart, my soul and speaks to the smallness I feel at times, my insignificance, my struggle. Even more beautiful are the glimpses of my joy that I offer unreservedly to the light.
I am

I am my own soul I am not the scream of the eagle As he scrapes the sky Though I scream at heaven And hell too I am the not the gust of stifling wind That pushes hope to its knees  And blows ash into the eyes of the dreamer I am not the lily  Nor the rose There is no touch No taste No scent of beauty I am not the proud noble mountain I am the valley The desert The stone I am not the spirit of the song I am but one note Quavering Harsh And softly sweet I am the starless night sky The thorn, the feather The petal too I am my soul My smile My tears The black red blood  That joyously spills when I am quarte…