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Showing posts from April, 2016

IT IS TRULY SPRING by Isabelle Andres

This poem came to me yesterday as I was on my daily walk in Nature. ..
I have been so confused this year by the weather as it seems to chaotically move from one season to the next on the same day. Well, at least that is the case as I experience this spring here in in the UK. But then I was able to let go of this surface chaos, and was able to pause in time and observe what Nature was up to, I just saw it, I felt it and I got all excited because it is, well and truly, spring!
It is Truly Spring by Isabelle Andres
It is truly spring Even if the weather is lying If rain, sun and snow are cohabiting,
It is truly spring the bird kingdom is saying, You just have to look and see, “The blackbird feeding his female to win her trust for his coming clutch” “The pair of Goldcrests unusually bold, looking for what will make their fledging’s home”
It is truly spring the plant kingdom is saying, You just have to look and see, “The buds arrogantly blossoming in vibrant rhythms of green leaves”
It is truly spring t…

LOST IN THE UNDERGROUND by Jhilmil Breckenridge

This poem looks at images of identity, belonging, roots and feminine symbols of place…
It was written as I reflected on how different my life could have been, had I been born in the country of my grandmother, Pakistan. Perhaps as an Asian abroad, I am always searching for my own identity, or perhaps I miss my grandmother, who was the most influential figure in my life.

Lost In The Underground by Jhilmil Breckenridge

There is a woman, her eyes smoky with kohl walking the streets of Lahore She is the smell of slowly simmering biryani She is the taste of hot cinnamon scented kahwa She is flat handmade, embroidered slippers and a black chador She is pious and she is afraid and she tiptoes through Lahore
There is another woman, in jeans and a hoodie Head thrown back, she laughs, red lips and sparkling teeth Glistening raven hair, cropped and spiky She is music and tattoos and piercings She is a poet in the underground She is a chaser of dreams through the streets of London
Feet in sneakers that would glid…

A PRAYER FOR THE PERFECTIONIST by Krista Katrovas

This poem was inspired by a true transformational yoga teacher, and all that he continues to teach...
A Prayer for the Perfectionist  by Krista Katrovas
We need not try so hard even though we’ve been taught to push, pull, strive, we only land in those worn out places,  the space where exhaustion and hurt resides. 
Let us worship the divine living within us all, by honoring our limitations, our boundaries,  where moving slowly and mindfully, becomes our meditation, where we grow to know the true meaning of loving our body temple. 
Let us remember our feet, how we connect to Mother Earth, and connect to our inner animal, and, “Let the animal body, love what it loves.”
It’s time to let our tails waggle,  to free the sacred, the sacrum, to awaken our creative energy, and free it from the chains of dirtiness  the world so often has painted it as being.  
Let our breath be soft, encourage life force to shine through each cell, rather than always  needing to control it, and allow it to be a salve  to heal what it needs …

QUEEN OF LOVE by Medea Bavarella Chechik

Poetry started pouring out of my Being about three years ago, while I was going through a deep grieving process...
A little over 6 years ago, I endured what has become the most life-shattering experience of my existence: the death of my only son, Nathaniel. Since then, I have been in the midst of a radical personal transformation. This transformation has enabled me to shift from the old paradigm of my life -the old story of who I thought I was- to creating the “the new me” and experiencing the truth of myself much more clearly and deeply than ever before. It was as if my old self-identity died so that the truth at the core of my being could at last be visible, be experienced, and be expressed.
I am fascinated by the power we have in being the architects of our own life: transforming the old story in order to give birth to the truth of Being that has been wanting and needing to evolve in its highest manifestation.
I feel that the sharing of my story, through the medium of poetry is an exa…

The Seed of her Heart by Isabelle Andres

This came to me, a long while ago, almost in a burst, writing itself on a piece of paper, following its very own rhythm...
It had a mind of its own, I am not too sure if it wanted to be a poem, a fairy tale or what. I let it be what it wanted to be and I saw the river from Paulo Coelho’s novel and the witch from Philip Pullman’s novels happily sneaking in. I let it do what it wanted to do and it decided to reveal itself today.
I suspect it is now ready to share a message, a message that was entrusted to us by our yoga teacher a little while ago now: “We all have a seed of love within us, sometimes our journeys take us astray from it, sometimes we may let it dry, but it is in each and all of us, for us to connect or reconnect with, for us to find and cherish.” 
The Seed of her Heart by Isabelle Andres
Once upon a time,  There was a man, Whose cold heart, Would turn to ice, All that he found in his path, And like in most fairy tales, Our heroine was almost stale, As when her fate joined his, Her wil…

FEARLESS by Ayala Zarfjian

“Fearless” is about my journey…
It’s a poem about the mistakes I made, the shame I carried. I was in a complicated relationship and when it became abusive I did not leave thinking that I can help the other person. I finally left but not before losing my dignity. I had to get over a divorce, losing both my parents in a period of fifteen months and reinventing myself.
Fearless by Ayala Zarfjian
Our bodies carry our biographies she says. Her voice gentle and soothing as she instructs us into a yoga pose. The walls are green a mix of jade and avocado. Our bodies remember where we have been and who we are. They hold the scars and shame. I breathe and remember the collisions of my soul. Does my body remember when I’ve been beaten, even though my scars have faded. Does it remember despair and hunger in my darkest moments. I was a fearless young girl that followed her heart. I have traveled the road of humiliation and determination, highs and lows. My body remembers

SUNBIRD AND WILLOW by Tammy T. Stone

As I sat down to write, it wasn’t a poem I thought I had living in my heart in that moment, waiting to emerge...
I didn’t know what it was, just that it was waiting to be heard, as I knew I had to grapple with the feelings I describe below, of feeling out of sorts, more heavy than free. I was caught off guard by the unexpected gift of stark imagery, of trees and birds, their gorgeous free-flowing, natural beauty; I felt them dwelling inside me and also hovering, just outside my grasp. As I envisioned the sunbird and the willow, I let myself go on a journey with them as they spoke to me, and let me express my hopes and fears. I hope you enjoy!
Sunbird and Willow by Tammy T. Stone

As the sunbird sings
The willow inside of me, In her lush plumy softness Sweeps toward the ground, All grace, but I’m still In a state of unbelieving As I watch her begin The floating down Draping the wind of me With her lavish, kind, Caressing weight
The willow glowing, Having embraced the perfect Light, now offering a Bott…