MOTION by Janavi Held

Has constant motion become an addiction, a distraction?

As I watch the inhabitants of the world spinning outward, instead of searching inward, and the world of nature commoditized, well, it makes me want to stand still: in the quite of a silver spark of moonlight, in the silence of the tapestry of a sunrise, in the whispering flow of a gentle river.

In this video, Naked Buildings, I tried to create a visual metaphor for the poem. I want to thank my dear friend for indulging my fantasy of stillness, by standing in front of my camera reading a book as a noisy train rattled by as she was jostled by bodies running, running, running.

'Lost Artist' by Katarina Silva

Motion

by Janavi Held

Naked buildings rampage by

fighting for time in my vision

That crash of city sound

marks the gnawed out air

And time, again, scrawls wildly

over the face of the ever-changing

Criss-crossed roots have no destiny

withdrawing to unconsciousness

And there is a secret savaging

the burnt-out fortress of blood

Ceaselessly turning the sharp mind of action

into the discarded atoms of useless tools.

When will there be inaction?

That falling away of distinct purpose.

Wandering is like alcohol in the blood

cup to lips

Feet and wheels to earth

ceaseless motion

inherited sleeplessness

searching as occupation.

(Click arrow to watch the author's video interpretation of her poem)

Janavi Held started writing poetry and wandering around with her father’s camera as a child. At the age of nineteen, she began practicing Bhakti yoga. She holds a bachelor’s degree from Goddard College where she studied poetry, photography, and media studies. She is on the verge of releasing her first book Letters to my Oldest Friend: A Book of Poetry and Photography.

~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

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. Ga...

IN THE STILLNESS OF THE NIGHT by Ginny Brannan

Just take a moment to pause... When life becomes rote, and frustration grows from being immersed in the same routine—different day, sometimes we need to remind ourselves that peace is still there—within our grasp— if we just take a moment to pause and enjoy the stillness and beauty around us. In the Stillness of the Night by Ginny Brannan Late winter’s eve and all is still the lawn lies bathed in silver light— gray shadows race across the yard and climb atop the windowsill to draw my gaze upon the sight. I stare out to the moonlit night, across the deck and wooded path fresh–painted by new fallen snow. The scene infuses with delight; this gift inside storm’s aftermath. Half–buried now, the old birdbath lies shadowed deep in indigo— it waits on promise of the spring when arctic chill has finally passed and snow gives way to new green grass. With gratitude, I hedge to go; tranquility allays my soul… I turn ...

STILL I RISE by Maya Angelou

Six years ago, I had the privilege of listening to Maya Angelou speak live on the value of poetry at the University of Florida. I share these reflections with you again today, in honor of her birthday. I was relieved to get one of the last seats available for this rare event, having arrived at five for Maya Angelou ’s free speech at eight. The historically long line began with people settled into beach chairs in winter coats busying themselves on tablets, or eating sandwiches for dinner. As helicopters hovered above and newscasters below, I felt the excitement of realizing that thousands of people were gathering together to hear an eighty four year old black woman recite her poetry! Maya Angelou speaking at University of Florida on Feb. 27, 2013 When the curtain rose -after an overflow of hundreds were sent away- we lucky ones on the inside greeted Maya with a standing ovation, as she smiled sweetly, beginning her talk using metaphors from nature. Maya asked...

Journey of the Heart

Search This Blog