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Showing posts from June, 2019

THE THINGS by Ulli Stanway

The Things  by Ulli Stanway The things that make you not fit in. The things that make you the odd one out.  Hold magic and wisdom within.  You see, what they think is weird, too much and indifferent.  Really is a blazing woman, standing strong in her own power and beauty. Full-Hearted. Untamed. Unapologetic, It is She, who Roars.  And She is you.  Photography by Chanel Baran This poem first appeared in Ulli Stanway's debut poetry collection, SHE ROARS.  To obtain your own copy, click here.  Ulli Stanway : I am a poetess/writer/day dreamer, life lover and author of SHE ROARS. I live in Melbourne Australia with my beautiful husband. I love nature and I am a confessing tree hugger. I invite you to  visit my website "Heart Rehab"  here , which I hope will inspire other kindred souls to follow their own dreams and skip down a path they truly enjoy. I believe in becoming your authentic self, become who you are with all your quirkines

FROSTING by Anita Grace Brown

Frosting i have a lot of love to spread around its thick like white buttercream frosting sometimes people taste it and thank me smacking their lips, an obvious appreciation for the sweetness sometimes people stare at it stare. at. it. as if they don’t recognize what frosting is for ha! and sometimes they actually say blech blech! I tell ya strange these people are but I don’t say a word (except in my head, I have a few choice ones) I just keep churning out fresh frosting Anita Brown   is a content mother of two teenagers and wife of over 20 years, both of which she is grateful for every day. She began writing poetry in the fall of 2012 after a mini-breakdown cracked open her heart and allowed this newly found gift to shine through. Many months later, she is realizing the truth in the saying that ‘breakdown equals spiritual awakening’ as she is pleasantly shocked at how much more peace she has in her spirit and how that is reflected in her life.  Anita loves yo

STONE AND BONE by Elizabeth Kipp

Stone and Bone (Let’s Heal) I’m made of water clay bits of stone and bone wisps of hair and a little despair I’m fueled with fire elemental soulfully sentimental I breathe with the trees I dream and scheme I make my start and my art from the heart and after a fashion express my passion ‘cause if I don’t grab onto the now I miss out on living and giving forgiving and thanksgiving I live in this sea of emotion soft hands of devotion wrapped in rays of the rainbow sun and moon I’m not immune to the trials and trivialities before you judge just what you’re seein’ in me try walkin’ a mile in my shoes and I’ll walk in yours let’s open some doors together see each other for real no longer conceal let’s just heal ourselves stand tall for once and for all. Elizabeth Kipp is a health facilitator specializing in stress and chronic pain management, addiction recovery, meditation, and yoga. She is a best-selling author, certified Kundalini Yoga Teacher (RYT/IKYTA/Yoga Alliance),

CHOOSING LOVE by Julia W. Prentice

Choosing Love You choose, sometimes to lose In the game of love Seldom are there winners So the sprint begins Chaste kisses raining On eager, trembling lips To soft caresses Or clasping hands Walking together everywhere Passionate loving, Or heated climax And thrill of victory Soon gives way To defeat at each turn Words out of cadence Stumbling club-footed Tongue always in the way Wanting to express What cannot be? So the race becomes a dance Dashing becomes spinning Whirling and catching As we fall into each other’s arms Bending gracefully Then awkwardly we pause Panting, sweating, waiting Lose the beat, music dies A slow death march ensues And like the ballerina Twirling in the music box We start the dance again Spinning, then winding down Knowing full well That it could be The slow-dance or the fugue, The last we lovers can endure Before we separate forever The race ended, no victory crown Just regret, endless regret Julia W.

ALLOW by Sarah Carlson

Allow  Some clouds are stormy, some benign, some hard to read. And yet the sun has the potential to illuminate the edges of them all, given the right conditions. Just as our nearest star  facilitates the splendor of silver linings, so can we humans permit our  inner brilliance to radiate  from behind whatever barricades may be in place. We all want to, though the desire may be somewhat sequestered. No matter what fronts have blown through, our own exquisite uniqueness is there nestled within, ours to share when  we feel secure and right. And that we should - both feel safe and allow. The sun doesn’t hesitate. Why should we? Sarah Carlson   has many pieces to her whole, as most of us do. Those pieces include: mother, teacher, daughter, friend, widow, sister, skier, bicyclist, hiker, coach, drummer, and poet. Sarah lives in the western foothills of Maine where opportunities to make connections amid the splendor of the


I am feeling awash with gratitude for the constant love, companionship and motivation that Mother Goddess so graciously gives. Even the days when nothing seems worth striving for, she gently reminds me I have so much to be grateful for, have so many blessings, and a heart full of the knowing she will always lead me to my rightful place however winding the road may be. Gratitude for Goddess   Rhea Ruth Aitken      Gratitude seeps ever from my soul   Wells and springs forth from within me   Erupts in tears, smiles and ecstatic screams   With a pounding heart and a soft touch   With the falling or budding of a leaf   And the crunch or melt of the snow   Seasons of sun beating on my face   And the wind whispering   Things I need to know.   There are not enough words   Not enough books, or poets   Or quotes from lyricists’ tongues   Or sighs from my soul to capture   My love of the Goddess   And my gratitude for her glorious gifts.   The way she touches my deepest places   Soothes m


Women, Your sickness is of a different kind! “A woman who is starved for her real soul-life may look “cleaned up and combed” on the outside, but on the inside she is filled with dozens of pleading hands and mouths”.  ~Clarissa Este Pinkola~ To women who write to me , whispering that “I am sick” KNOW  that  YOU  are  NOT SICK . WE  do  NOT DENY  that  YOU  are  SUFFERING . WE  ACKNOWLEDGE  the  PHYSICAL ,  MENTAL ,  EMOTIONAL  and  PSYCHIC PAINS  that  YOU ARE  going  THROUGH Your  SICKNESS  is of a  DIFFERENT KIND .  You have  DRIED YOURSELF  up from  YEARS  of  NOT LISTENING  to  YOURSELF . Your I NTERNAL RIVER  is  POLLUTED  with taints that are  UNNATURAL  to  YOU . YOU  are  NOT  to be  BLAMED  for  YOU  are  BORN  in a  WORLD  that  MOCKS  your  CURIOSITY  calling it  SPOOKY YOU  are  NOT  to be  BLAMED  for  YOU  are  BORN  in a  WORLD  that RIDICULES  your  INTUITIVENESS  calling it  MENTAL YOU  are  NOT  to be  BLAMED  for  YOU  are  BORN  in a  W

PLIANT by Victoria Lantz

Pliant Push me up against a wall and watch me flower. I thrive in tight spaces, under rocks, and behind shadows. If you look closely, you’ll see I’m deliberately leaning into the confinement, allowing the pressure to mold me. I’m pliant enough to enjoy it. When times get tough and I feel myself wanting to run, a small space deep within me gets excited. Whether it is a difficult situation, a challenging relationship, or simply an uncomfortable chair, some part of me recognizes a growth opportunity when I see it. After years of running from discomfort, today I welcome those feelings, knowing that I have an opportunity to grow. I may be called to change myself in order to accept the circumstance as it is or take action to change it. Either way, it’s an invitation to lean into the pressure and allow myself to be molded. Loving Source, keep me soft and flexible for your sculpting. (This poem originally appeared in Victoria's newly released book   Epiphanies  & Storie

THIS LOVE by Laura Hornby Kutney

I often find my poetry inspired by unforgettable art, literature or music that captures my heart.  Recently, while listening to Ludwig van Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9, I became curious about the history and story behind its creation. “Ode to Joy”, a  poem  by Friedrich Schiller (with additions by Beethoven), sung during the final movement, made this the first choral symphony by any major composer. It is also widely regarded by many, to be Beethoven’s finest work. Sadly, by 1824, Beethoven was reported to be completely deaf and off by several measures while he enthusiastically conducted this final symphony at its premiere in Vienna. My heart broke when I read that the audience, gave multiple standing ovations, while waving hats and handkerchiefs. Although they knew he couldn’t hear their applause, they made sure he would know and feel their adoration and appreciation. To me, classical music feels like a poetry of sound. It even comes with its own dictionary of rich, beaut