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Showing posts from September, 2015

BLUE UMBRELLA by Heather Awad

This is my first collection of poetry and I'm so proud to be able to share it with everyone...
I have been writing continuously for the last two years, and I knew it was time to do something with the many, many poems I had amassed. 
The poem “Blue Umbrella” was originally “My Umbrella” and when I found the book cover art, I fell in love with it and knew I needed to change this poem to “Blue Umbrella.” It was perfect!
 I love rain and different color umbrellas, so this poem captures a little bit of my whimsical side. I hope you enjoy it, along with the rest of the collection. It is my utmost pleasure to share my poetry with you.
Blue Umbrella by Heather Awad
Someone said good job today and I was high and maybe a little taller in my shoes like flattery mattered while esteem filled my pockets with pride. Later, I walked in the rain shoes soaked feet squishing. The employee lot cleared out

TURN YOUR TV SPIRIT ON by Nejoud Al-Yagout

In life, we are vibrate at various frequencies of consciousness…
These two poems are from my first book of poetry, This is an imprint, which is a compilation of 58 pairs of poems. The first poem in each pair is written on a low frequency or angst, grief or identity crisis while its response is written from a higher level of consciousness or awareness. Turn Your TV Spirit On discusses a selfish love in which the speaker sees only the beloved. This love brings with it pleasure and pain. The response - Turn Your Spirit On - is a poem about expansive, universal love and the field that unites all of humanity. Turn your TV spirit on by Nejoud Al-Yagout
I have surfed the channels of your soul Electric vibes cascaded from your aura
In one field of energy, I swallowed your pain In one field of energy, I dwelt with madness (encumbered by la vie jolie) In one field of energy, I cherished youthfulness In one field of energy, I knew you would give in  (to the scattered seagulls on the shore) In one field of e…

ENFORCED ISOLATION by Shernaz Wadia

An image has stayed on in my mind from a very young age…
There was this lady whom I used to see at her window every evening when I passed by her house. She looked the picture of loneliness. Much later I heard about a school friend who had been widowed very young and was now living a forlorn life adhering to the customs of her community. And one day when I saw a crow as described in the poem, somehow all these pictures came together and spilled out in this poem.
Enforced Isolation by Shernaz Wadia
swamped by the darkness as it grew cawing, from cable to cable he flew, loathe to return to an empty nest
gloom framed the teary-eyed widow as she stood at her lonesome window - a still-life painting, tight-lipped
incidental pin-points on society’s map she and her ilk, drained of life’s sap live in forced seclusion
the crow still has the freedom of the sky; consigned to living death, she must cry  in the eerie confines of her soul
not for her the colors of mirth and cheer, only the grey of his ashes must she …

CATHARTIC ECLIPSE by Anca Mihaela Bruma

This poem is about the Universe pushing us  in the direction we need to go next!
We say good byes to the old habits and welcome new beginnings, as notorious poet T.S. Eliot mentioned: “In my End is my Beginning!” It is a Time when new revelations come into focus, a time to adventure yourself in a sacred inner journey.
This lyrical writing reflects a Time Resurrection / Awakening, with radical changes and breakthroughs, freeing the Heart and to hold on what I consider my own personal integrity and authenticity. It is about the powerful emotion of “Apocalypse” , or I shall say an “inner Apocalypse”, which literally means “Revelation”, finding the balance between Inner versus Outside World.
Each of us carries trauma and pain that has been a direct effect of our disconnection from one another, as our society does not embrace our best, truest nature. This poem also depicts how our physical world—with its remaining old paradigm based on separation and disempowering as constant barriers among…

I AM NOT A FLOWER by Dejah Beauchamp

These two poems, both titled "I am not a flower," arose out of my ever ongoing spiritual journey…
I'm currently reading a translation of the Hindu text the Ashtavakra Gita as well as Thich Nhat Hanh's biography of the Buddha, Old Path White Clouds. I find both to be scintillating, stimulating explorations of what it means to be human and the eternal quest we are on for answers to our biggest questions. Both books have turned my brain upside down (in a good way!).
These poems are my way of exploring those Big Questions, about the Self and non-self, being and non-being, the ache of suffering and the simultaneous joy of being alive. I think I'm beginning to learn that (sometimes at least) the question is the answer.
I am not a flower by Dejah Beauchamp
I am not the sun, gilt in fire, nor the changing moon.
I am not a cat nor the bird it stalks but cannot catch.
I am not a book nor a birthday cake nor the sweet tooth of a child.
I am not the finger dipped into the bowl of frosti…

I HOLD THE RED GLOW by Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg

I have felt her fiery presence stirring within my being all week...
Insomnia cradles my thoughts as I rise in the dark hours to write in my journal. What is released from the depths of me, is a burning, a longing to feel ignited by my passion and calling. 
Undefined emotions grasp at my breath, but I breathe it all out anyway. This super moon holds our fire as we bring our intentions to newness, to find our beginnings as we let what does not belong to us, burn away.

I Hold the Red Glow, the Eclipse of the September Moon
by Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg
I hold the red glow,
the eclipse of the-
September moon,
into the depths of my soul-
where I go to embrace,
your crimson face.
sky scalloped with,
early dawning clouds-
glints of stars,
gaze towards the east-
waiting for the sun to rise,
against the September sky-
red as the blood,
that flows through my humanness-
red for fire,
red for desire,
fire to burn my intentions-
so high,
the smoke circles around-
the red moon surrendering,
to dark coveri…