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
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
And sometimes still
All is prayer
Let it be what will
I often ask myself what is the role or job of the poet? Each time the response depends on what is happening in the world and in my personal life. I ask other poets the same question. Sometimes I wish I could ask my favorite poets, especially those who became well-known after they passed. I could imagine their reaction when they learn in their after life that people finally get and appreciate the poems they wrote.
As I pondered the question I went back to my collection of poetry books and looked for some insights. Inspired by poet’s biographies and other readings, I wrote a poem that hopefully answers the question. I mean if you have ever asked yourself what is the role of the poet.
The Role of the Poet
I believe the world needs a poet more today
It needed one yesterday as well
because a poet is one to tells
truths we may not want to hear
a poet brings to light what is most dear
and helps us to face fear
A poet brings you back into your own life
and teaches you how to breathe in and out
in stillness and in meditation
while you listen carefully to your breath and heart beat
and to the divine explanation of why we are all here.
A poet is a little god
who soothes your soul
and lets you peek into life’s crystal ball
to see yourself for the very first time
A poet sings the songs that make the world go round
and says what matters in free verse or rhyme
a poet knows how to expertly use every utterance and sound
in alliteration or onomatopoeia or assonance
and when it comes to choosing
the right meter
who else can we possibly trust
It does not matter what form a poem takes
A poet must not mistake
an epic, a limerick or an ode
As long as a poet can bring back the spring
in the middle of winter.
A poet can make you sing
and help you see the purpose of a fly
and you can either believe every word
or decide to defy
its relevance or ambiguity
but we must admit the poet’s acuity
for words and how to use them in a soliloquy.
Being a poet is not an easy job
a poet can make you smile
or make your heart throb
A poet can also make you think
about so many things that need thinking
and when you don’t understand
the message it can really stink
but as for me
I still hope to be
a poet someday.
Happy National Poetry Month!
“Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.” –
– Leonard Cohen
A few suggestions for things you can do to honor the poets of the world.
A New bud appeared
after the mighty snow fall
When a poet dies
Can a crazy world still survive?
Will lavender’s aroma fade suddenly?
I do not know for sure.
But I do know a poet is a little god
that whispers truths forever.
Rest in Peace Mr. Derek Walcott.
Does it matter what the groundhog sees,
in times of such uncertainty?
Spring will be eventually.
Daffodils, and pink peonies bloom endlessly
and I for one hope eternally.
Nature promises to be true.
All we need to do is do
what matters the most
and happiness will be our host.
Complexities in life will not cease
But if we love well
meaning love each other
only time will tell
the human spirit will survive
and cultivate a new sping,
and harmony within,
clear and still alive.
God help us all to realize
that it does not matter
what the Groundhog sees.
Peace is up to you and me.
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,
I need soft commotion and jubilation.
Join me at least for today.
As promised I will continue to write Found Poems. Please note the attributions.
She reaches up to wash the sky with pale blue
so it will be ready when you need it
Exploring the world within
Is only possible when you are true
the poet said to thyself be true
In the corners of my mind,
I watch the clouds move in
Hoping for the cleansing rain they might bring
We need truth to prevail
Clean and fresh to drench our souls
With aromas real and natural
Not the alternatives, no , no
We have to learn quiet again
All of us in unison
Still and determined
To reach up and paint a sun filled sky
And not forget to ask, “Why?”
The Poets light but Lamps — (930)
The Poets light but Lamps —
Themselves — go out —
The Wicks they stimulate
If vital Light
Inhere as do the Suns —
Each Age a Lens
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.
Words like waterfalls
Gently flow into my heart
A poem is born
In honor of Emily Dickinson, one of my favorite poets since I began reading her poems in the sixth grade. I have a collection of books written about her. One of my favorites:
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –