I hesitate to pen the word … cancer. Not mine, but the diagnosis my husband received just before lockdown, due to Covid-19, in Seattle, WA. March 5, 2020 we received news that the pathology report indicated stage 2 bladder cancer. Journal entry, March 6, 2020. “World upside down. Still life with cancer. Still, life with…
Category: Poetry
Behold the Breakfast Buffet
This poem found its way into my journal this morning while spending time in Bangalore, India. The photos are from the past week spent soulstrolling via walking and rickshaw movement – not specifically from the hotel buffet. Bangalore is a large city full of contrast: from street noise to quiet, wealth to poverty, ancient green…
if one can imagine such things
Welcome. Once upon a time, a butterfly settled on my lips and a golden beetle perched on my nose. if one can imagine such things. My poetry chapbook is live!!! if one can imagine such things My creative process flows from practicing the art of SoulStrolling® – mindfulness in motion. At home and abroad I…
House of Memories
Flanked by maples, oaks and pines My house of memories Stands poised in anecdotal reflection. Guests come, and gone, Who sat upon the faux red leather chairs Surrounding the square wood table. Laughter, tears, Heated conversations – Games of chance and fortune, Skill, and a dash of luck. Visitors remarking at the…
écouter
Listen, Before the day in all its sunlit energy bursts through the shuttered windows. Listen, As the hummingbirds, sparrows and robins converse about issues in the ‘hood.’ Listen, As the gentle morning breeze waltzes with the trees. Listen, As the red geraniums share their sensory delight, Grounding to the earth. Listen, To the melody of pine,…
Rose Citroen
This poem found me today by way of walking to the grocery store, instead of driving, and through Mary Oliver’s poem: Humility “Poems arrive ready to begin. Poets are only the transportation.” She spoke to me of pink – The day unfurling like her, One petal at a time. Reminding me of candles On my…
King of the Marshlands
Balanced, Sentry like At the waters edge; Grounded, calm, still. Earth holds you Elegant wise bird Of the marshland. Watchful of opportunities, Regal wings graciously Frame your reed like body – Embracing power and air In flight. If I pause, and watch, Can I breathe in your qualities?
Party in a Bowl
In February, 2017, I had the pleasure of participating on a yoga retreat with 8 limbs yoga at Haramara Retreat in Sayulita, Mexico. Every other night, water ‘disappeared’ from a beautiful clay bowl placed on the path just above our casita. This poem flows from that time. Enjoy. Daily, the light brown clay bowl on the path…
Cherry Blossoms
“Your poems are like sketches,” remarked a friend the other day. If I could sketch the way this blossom makes me feel, with words, that would be truly magnificent. Her petals unfurling in the spring air light my soul with a smile. Childhood memories surface: summer forts, my backyard home, hours of pretend in the…
Conversation with Owl in Paris, March 2017
Owl is my word for the year. She chose me. Soulstrolling the streets of Paris last week, Owl appeared often: hanging as a backpack in the shop window on Rue Mouffetard, on a magnet in a tourist shop, at the Brocante Antique fair outside Paris (Foire de Chatou), and peering out through an art gallery…
Haramara Goddess – Conversation with a Statue
This is how it happened: Statues began speaking to me a few years ago. It’s been a process, this paying attention to art. The nudge I feel within to slow down, pause, listen. “What would you like to talk about? What do you have to say? Would you like to converse?” Are the types of…
Come to the Waters Edge
Come to the waters edge. Stand still on the plank of the pier. Cast your eyes over the horizon. Weeping willow at your back holds the waterflow of pent up tears. Sorrow, anger, disappointment, a longing for justice. She hears your wondering and questions. Allow us to hold you. Air, water, clouds, sky. Mallard swims…
Sharon Richards 