Skip to main content

WHEN DREAMS BECOME MEMORIES by Jennifer Hillman

I was inspired to write this while reflecting on how many dreams are now memories…

And I was inspired to write this as I reflected also on the blessings of completion and moving forward in my life. I feel blessed for my continued growth on my path and have a greater appreciation of the whole journey, as wild and bizarre it can be, with all the lessons learned along the way. I offer some of them to you today in this poem. 
When Dreams Become Memories

When dreams become memories
and the sweetness of life kisses me on the forehead,
blessing me with more…
more love, more dreams, more seas to cross, more words to write… 
When the memories continue to bring smiles and lightness to my step,
 life will bring me more to remember.

Clearing myself from doubts
and living only in the simplicity of knowing
just to be in this moment,

I embrace the sun-rays on my cheeks
and the whispers of the wind in my ears. 

And I dance! Oh, I dance with that music that plays in my head,
though no one else can hear it. Why should I care?

Perhaps I am leading the way for them
to hear their own hearts by example.
I caress the hands of family and friends.
I dare to be outrageous and quick to respond. 

I am ever-present to the silence beating in my heart,
singing through my soul and
moving me further than I ever would have thought possible!

I let my inner child be wild
and express my weirdness in every expression.
I play with the butterflies, and the turtles, and hug the trees. 

I talk to the stars, giving thanks for the blessings,
the misery even, and the tears
of joy and love of being alive.

I let my passions loose!
I proclaim my allegiance to those childhood dreams:
the ones that everyone said no to.
I tell my secrets to my best friend and my mentor:
That one person I know cares…
who has been there through it all
and just laughs when giving me their hand
to help me back up when I fall on my ass!

I say: “I love you!” every day
to everyone I care about.

I write letters and cards, emails and poems
telling them how they inspire me and bring out my brilliance.

And I never let anyone go
without knowing the impact they made on my heart
and everything that experience in time meant to me. 

Nothing is promised and no time can come back.
But I can be here now, in this moment,
and love my life with all my being.

Knowing always that I am loved
and that I am love
in each and every moment I create.
as dreams become memories.
Jennifer Hillman is an artist, published writer/poet with certifications as Reiki Master/Teacher, Hypnotherapist/NLP Practitioner, Intuitive Life Coach, working also a psychic adviser. She connects to the Divine through her studying many of the philosophies of the world, including Buddhism, Shamanism, Kabbalah, Sufi to name a few. 
She has a weekly radio program, Abstract Illusions Radio, explores the different aspects of creativity and spirituality, on blogtalkradio.com and her four websites: JenniferHillman.com, the essences of her creations; AbstractIllusionsMedia.com, assisting artists with creating the dreams, EmbracingSouls.com, her poetry; AngelsIntuition.com, information and insights for finding your true self. 
Empowering and inspiring is her joy and path and she enjoys connecting with people and animals with an open heart of compassion. 
She has two published books of poetry in the series Embracing Souls: Poetry of the Dance and Words of the Heart. Both books have positive reviews of passion and insights into the world we live.

~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~ 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather

IMBOLC by Caroline Mellor

The inspiration for this poem came after I watched a magical winter sunset and full moonrise from the top of Firle Beacon in the South Downs... Unusually for me, I wrote the poem quite quickly and changed it very little before publishing it – perhaps the energies were working through my pen! Imbolc is the mid-point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It’s a fire festival which I particularly love because of its associations with Brigid, the Celtic Mother Goddess of arts and crafts, clear sight, healing, inspiration and nurturance of creative talents – something which, through my writing, I am always trying to connect with.  I also love Imbolc because, with so much darkness and negativity in the world today, it is a time for hope, potential, visioning and initiation. With love and blessings as the light returns. Photography by Chanel Baran IMBOLC    by Caroline Mellor I am the dream of awakening. I am the returning of the night.  I am the tough green

WINTER SOLSTICE: A GIFT OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’ve had several days now of alone time… It is unusual and a gift that I couldn’t see until I breathed it. I have been able to watch the sun’s rise through the grey of dawn and smile at the flickers of frost melting on the waving boughs of evergreen. It’s unique to follow daylight as it traverses the tempo of a cat’s soft slumbering purr. Night comes swifter and the glow of candles and the flames of fire comfort me more than the steady stream of always-doing-more. As much as I resisted, I needed this break. I had no idea how much my body was trying to tell me   slow down   until the exhaustion settled in around my joints. My eyes swam in molasses. Heaviness of I-can’t-hold-out-much-long, walked me to the throne of my nest. It’s winter’s gift of self-nurturing and love. It’s been a quiet proclamation of femininity and a need for comfort foods. Lemon crisps and cranberry, white-chocolate shortbread dipped in tea; I felt a hint of being pampered without