Found Poem #5

 

The following is another poem inspired by my fellow bloggers. Thanks for your beautiful posts. The attributions follow. Check out their beautiful work.

All is prayer

When thoughts are still

A rainbow of hope

Fills the sky

And I

Pray

 

All is prayer

And I am here

To tell you

We are one

 

All is prayer

Who am I but a body in time,

I ask the universe for love

I am a woman, an artist, a mother, a worker,

But I want to be like water

Flowing calming

And sometimes still

All is prayer

Let it be what will

 

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https://methodtwomadness.wordpress.com/2017/04/18/birthday-poem/

Soft Commotion and Jubilation

jubilation

Soft commotion

and jubilation

comes at a cost;

we must free ourselves

of negative thoughts;

even the ones we produce on our own,

certainly those grim ideas pronounced

on loud speakers by others.

It seems these days,

the loud speakers are louder than ever.

We know their truth and legitimacy.

there is no doubt.

FEAR suppresses the soul;

But I need a thousand colorful

and unbustable bubbles

to help me smile, sing,

and dance,

I need soft commotion and jubilation.

Don’t you?

Join me at least for today.

 

My Poetry and Art

Recently I decided to link my poetry to my artwork via several venues. I published my coloring book in September of 2016, The Secret Life of Mandalas, which is available via Amazon.com.

I have always loved graphic design and making my own greeting cards and other products. Zazzle.com and Threadless.com gave me the opportunity to create my products and use my art and poetry.

I want to thank those of you who have been so supportive this past year. I truly appreciate your comments and feedback.

Occasionally, I will post some of my products as they become available. However, my main focus and labor of love will continue to be writing poetry.

handbag-1

 

 

Thoughts on Poetry

“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt,

and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.”

                                           –   Leonardo da Vinci

Magic Touch

“Love, the poet said, is woman’s whole existence.”

                                          – Virginia Woolf

Wet Hibiscus

“Poetry, she thought, wasn’t written to be analyzed;

it was meant to inspire without reason, to touch without understanding.”

– Nicholas Sparks

O

“Poetry is Life;  life is Poetry”

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Melba Christie

what is a poem?

DSC_0150

A poem is defined as expressive language. It is an art form that allows for free verse. Poems are musical and rhythmic and uses sounds and imagery to convey meaning. Poems use metaphors and similes and they can create a very intimate conversation between the poet and the reader.

The following is a poem about poems.

Poems are words a poet collects

to convey messages hard to forget

or to tell a truth so there are no regrets.

Poems are stored in the heart and soul

of poets waiting for their muses to call

Poems flow like rivers through the mind

and words can be sweet and sometimes unkind

And if there is a cause

that needs to be fought

A poem can manage

and never be caught

without a deep thought

to stimulate thinking

elevate the spirit,

and comfort the soul.

 

Melba Christie at Poemattic

Poetry Poetry (Photo credit: V. H. Hammer)

A poem is defined as expressive language. It is an art form that allows for free verse. Poems are musical and rhythmic and uses sounds and imagery to convey meaning. Poems use metaphors and similes and they can create a very intimate conversation between the poet and the reader.

The following is a poem about poems.

Poems are words a poet collects

to convey messages hard to forget

or to tell a truth so there are no regrets.

Poems are stored in the heart and soul

of poets waiting for their muses to call

Poems flow like rivers through the mind

and words can be sweet and sometimes unkind

And if there is a cause

that needs to be fought

A poem can manage

and never be caught

without a deep thought

to stimulate thinking

elevate the spirit,

and comfort the soul.

View original post 96 more words

Eyes

“Then love knew it was called love.
And when I lifted my eyes to your name,
suddenly your heart showed me my way” -Pablo Neruda

Josephina's eyes

I am convinced that looking into a person’s eyes can lead you to interpretation of someone’s sadness, joy, confusion, depression, and even sanity. Lately, I have trying to capture the essence emotions when I photograph someone. My beautiful baby granddaughter has captivating eyes. I love to watch her look into her mother’s eyes. Her curiosity is astounding for a five month old infant. She examines her surroundings and then will look at you at if to ask what is this or where am I.

Of course, I am not original in my fascination with eyes and what they can reveal. Many photographers try to capture the essence of their subjects’ eyes. I will follow suit by taking photographs of people’s eyes in the next few weeks. If you have a photograph that you would like to share please post it on your blog with a tag or #Eyes are Poems.

The following is a poem I wrote many years ago as I watched my students taking a standarizied test which they had to pass as a graduation requirement.

EYES

Some bright and alert

Some showing delight

Most saddened

too tired to fight

Some inquisitive

Some barely interested

Some totally frustrated

Many questons

fewer answers

loaded questions

ambiguity intensive

questions no one asked them before

And I was expected to ask them even more

Their eyes said it all

their torment clear

I watch and learn

they taught me more

about how

tests cause true fear.

Melba Christie 2001

“The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter – often an unconscious but still a faithful interpreter – in the eye.” Charlotte Brontë

The Flower of My Town

The flower of my Town

There is a song my mother sang

about the flower of her town

apparently it sprung up all around,

All you had to do was look at it

and it would make you smile.

The claim is no one who lived there

ever carried a frown.

Old wives told her that the reason

why hummingbirds loved to hover over

was because as legend had it

the flower was a long lost lover.

The magical bird and the beautiful red flower

had been human at some point in time

but the wrath of one mythical god

changed them forever

for no reason and no rhyme.

The bird destined to find its beloved

hovers over every red flower it sees

hoping one day it may recover

the love it lost and could never get over.

My mother the romantic believed that a love so true

had to end in happiness like in a fairy tale.

So she planted her favorite flower

with hope that maybe someday

the hummingbird would find its long lost love

which would mean that love is here to stay.

The flower of my town, exquisite and almost royal

awaits the humming of the one bird

that has always been so loyal.

The flower of my town is a story

my mother told me

when I was very young;

and I pass it on every chance I get.

a story of love and nature

that I cherish

and will never ever forget.

Melba Christie (C) 2015

Someone discovered their footsie today

image

Someone discovered their footsie today

How great there’s one more thing

with which to play

Five fat toes

That stretch and wiggle

Must have been funny to see for the first time

Cause all she could do was giggle.

I watched her fascination grow

As she tried to touch her chubby big toe

And when I  sang, “this little piggy.”

She looked at me  as if to say,

” Oh Abuela, that song is so silly.”