Skip to main content

Posts

Showing posts from June, 2015

EXISTENTIAL QUESTIONS by Anca Mihaela Bruma

For me writing now it is more related with the realization of the greater self, beyond the mundane…

When I write it disregards the well-known laws of the society, as an expression of both the rational and the intuitive. Writing as poetry increases my own self-awareness as well as my awareness of the world around me, giving them both new meanings and expanded views.
My “lyrical writings” now, as I like to call them, are more kind of a spiritual autobiography, depicting the reality behind all forms as I experienced it, with no space and time: I like to  call it a quantum view of existence.
Right now, I see the writing of poetry as a form of being present inside the language, a paradigm of living, which is encoded in the message itself.  To me poetic consciousness includes a spherical view of things, life, and love.


Existential Questions by Anca Mihaela Bruma
What is left  of a soul that slowly is flickering on the remnants  of its mind and heart?!? 
How do I restore my own fire  when everything is…

SHE by Ilda Dashi

I titled this poem "she" as a reference to my own self, to the woman that dwells in me: that innermost part of me that remains often hidden from the world…
This is a poem that came to "life" few weeks ago and it is a deep expression of a tumultuous time I was going through, and still am. It is that point in life many of us reach (once or many times in a lifetime) in which we don't know who we are anymore. Yet inside something is very much ALIVE and wants to be expressed and sail into the river of life with all its mysteries, agonies and joys.
This is a poem dedicated to that inner Me that at times get confused about her soul, and her life and that questions everything! Then after the questioning process she comes out with a more solid knowledge of who she is or might be next.
She by Ilda Dashi
She is afraid, scared of what her inner treasures might contain: gems and diamonds or demons traveling on a train.
She is terrified, of what her Self is made of: many of her parts…

THE WANNA BE by Shari Sachs

I catch myself sometimes feeling like my life is not the one I was meant to live and wishing I could be more than what I am...
I wrote this in one of those moments, but in the writing of it I was able to transform my self-doubt into self love and the recognition that we are all beautifully unique, magnificent beings and are exactly who we are meant to be.
The Wanna Be by Shari Sachs
Did ya ever feel like the life you were living wasn't yours?

Like the Universe, or maybe God himself got it mixed up the day he was concocting You

Or maybe He was having a really bad day or was playing a deliberate, cruel joke
With your DNA and that of the likes of Julia Roberts or Oprah Winfrey or Madonna or President Obama himself
Or any receiver of the gift of art, dance, music, acting, comedy, speaking, writing, loving

OR - whoever it is you "wanna be?"
God wouldn’t do that
Would He?
Couldn’t He?
Make you a “wanna be?”
Did ya ever have a friend or know of an icon where you whispered to yourself
That w…

DON'T TURN BACK by Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg

There are times when I am pulled back into time, feeling regret and shame...
This poem came to me as I decided to recite a mantra every morning in my meditative sacred space: “I am who I am ready to become who I am on the inside.” We are all human with the spirit within us striving and thriving. When others or ourselves fill us with doubt and draw us back into the past, we may realize that that place does not exist anymore. 
There is no sense in regressing and bringing ourselves to fear and blame. Call in grace and compassion towards ourselves, but I believe we  need to find our new steps guiding us to who we truly are on the inside. “Don’t turn back, don’t go that way anymore.” The time to live is now!

Don't Turn Back  by Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg
don’t turn back, don’t go that way anymore- it’s not a path, that can be re-done, even if others protest- and want you to regress- it is but a place in time, no longer full of living- or life.
don’t look back, don’t let thoughts- hold you in a cage- of r…

THE DANCE OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’m often surprised where my writing takes me...
It is a sensory experience. This poem was written on an early summer morning. I wasn’t expecting to write a poem about love, but after my brief garden walk and my affinity with nature, I experienced what it would feel like to be loved; it bordered on the tips of wholeness.
My translation of the experience was something I am still tender to share; I have wants as well as needs. In this poetic process I gently embraced my inner feelings. Ultimately, the desire to be loved and feel loved for who I am without the instinctual mindset to conform to the needs of another.
Furthermore, I realized it is easier for me to give than to receive. It’s almost as if, I’ve believed for many years, I don’t deserve more.
As I wrote, I didn’t over process, instead I let what was bubbling inside--flow. It was a unique internal exchange of awareness recognizing it’s more than okay to have wants and needs as well as a clearer sense of self.
I am not being selfish …

DEPRIVED by Julia W. Prentice

A spiritual exploration of the deprivation that comes from dementia...
...or other memory-destroying life situations, this poem wrote itself as I ponder the stages of relationship with my mother. As she slips into the golden years, I attempt to follow her, walking the path she walks. When I experienced a form of memory loss it felt as if it would last a lifetime. Then, slowly and with reluctant acceptance, came a new place to dwell in light and in relationship with the fragile nature of memory and recognition of a new way to be in relationship with it.
Deprived by Julia W. Prentice
Deprived of my senses All of them deadened Taste is nothing but ash Smell is unknown Touch wrapped in cobwebs Or sea foam, Sight gone forever. Yet I hear a singing Ringing in my ears They are the inner voices Celestial and divine Slowly they awaken me Undeaden the touch To soft goose down Unnumb the scenting to Gardenia blooms And tasting ambrosia Slipping down my throat I am alive again A chorus of sensation Overtakes me As I aris…