My soul is summoned, on barren lands, in the middle of nowhere, alone, it stands, free.
My Soul Summons me to Peaceful surrounds, to Light without sounds, to Love
without Boundaries.
My soul is summoned to answer calls Reverberating through subtle halls Where mankind has dwelt for far too long Deciding what is right and wrong. Step outside, there is no quiz Eternity just simply is.
My soul is summoned on wings to fly
High above an earthly sky
To take flight to a new world
A place with love, peace and flags unfurled
What will be there when you arrive?
Not for you to know, only to thrive.
Trust yourself and be off to explore
It is for you to love and nothing more.
My soul summon me through fire rise cast ash greyed mystery disguised walk no need to hide the eyes what calls to see but cross the water these pawmarks, mine, and most of all, for this to know that I am she, am this, forever soul
A most lovely poet at Forgotten Meadows has started a collaborative poem trend, two of my favorite things, poetry and collaboration! So, in honor of her, and to see what juicy words come, here is my starting phrase: “My Soul is Summoned…”
Isn’t it a curious phrase? What is your soul summoned to do?
It will be open until next Friday, the 27th, and I will make sure your contribution is posted in the order it comes. I look forward to seeing your “magic.” And hearing what you are summoned to do.
Happy poeting…(yes, poetry is an action!)
My Soul is Summoned
My soul is summoned, on barren lands, in the middle of nowhere, alone, it stands, free.
My Soul Summons me to Peaceful surrounds, to Light without sounds, to Love
without Boundaries.
My soul is summoned to answer calls Reverberating through subtle halls Where mankind has dwelt for far too long Deciding what is right and wrong. Step outside, there is no quiz Eternity just simply is.
My soul is summoned on wings to fly
High above an earthly sky
To take flight to a new world
A place with love, peace and flags unfurled
What will be there when you arrive?
Not for you to know, only to thrive.
Trust yourself and be off to explore
It is for you to love and nothing more.
My soul summon me through fire rise cast ash greyed mystery disguised walk no need to hide the eyes what calls to see but cross the water these pawmarks, mine, and most of all, for this to know that I am she, am this, forever soul
Many people think I am the teacher; but honestly, when you are the teacher of five and six year olds, you become the student because they really understand what’s truly important in life. Remember the joy my friends….watch through their eyes.
Taste of Joy
Lessons from a Five Year Old
All that is significant in life is
The here and now,
What I am doing this very moment
Is the most important thing
And it has all my attention.
If I am painting,
There is no worry for where the paint splatters.
The joy comes from the act of getting it on the canvas,
Spattering, spilling, splashing,
Sloshing and galoshing,
As long as the colors are swished and mixed on the page.
No pun intended “kid you not.” My first graders were stuck, and I felt like they just weren’t getting this poetry thing. Every once in awhile they’d come up with a poetic phrase. (I’ve heard them say thousands of poetic things throughout the year.) Now, when it really matters, they were stuck! See? It happens to ALL of us! So, I said you can write about ANYTHING! I grabbed a pencil and said, “Tell me about this pencil, first scientifically (so we could get that out of the way). Now, my dear poets, let’s go deeper!” And the magic began. We NEED each other. We deserve each other along this writing journey. Sometimes writing is hard. But with each other, writing can be magical…create “living things,” a “different world, a different you.” I learned this from looking through first grade eyes.
In Poetry Therapy, we use poetry as a way to heal. It’s a back door way to heal. Actually, in my opinion, all writing is healing. I took some sample poetry from an amazing compilation of teen poems by Writer’s Corps called “Paint Me Like I Am,” and asked my dad how he would want the world to know him. At first, this was too right brained for him. Usually he operates more left brained. So, I read him some more samples and then I used adjectives he had used previously to describe himself and asked him to delineate more on that.
Below is what Ernest, my dad, wrote, with little assistance from me. (He has arthritis and Alzheimer’s, so I’m his hand and placeholder.) What is amazing to me is that my dad was invested and even got excited to do it. He has started to call me now and has more days he talks about his life than not. He has written something our family can treasure, and I’m so proud! PLEASE LET US KNOW IF YOU LIKE IT! HE GETS EXCITED ABOUT
PEOPLE READING HIS PAGE :0)
PAINT ME AS I AM by Ernest
Paint me working and doing my best
For I liked to make things better
Taking things that work that didn’t work before
Engines, motors, broken chairs and making them new again.
Paint me determined.
I made up my mind not to have any booze at all…
Or anything that would come near it…
I didn’t want any part of what I did before…
Paint me as keeping my thoughts and good emotions toward others
Requesting forgiveness for my stupidty…
Paint me as always looking for making a difference in life.
As time goes by, I make sure each day of my life that whatever I do and say is better…
Never wanting to give or get trouble…
Paint me independent wanting the peaceful life,
less noise and misery from people or cars and traffic and busses and sirens…
It gripes me a lot…I had enough of all that…
I have to get away from the racket.
Paint me as one whose mind holds onto better days
(don’t really care about money)
Whose richness is in the simple life,
The more simple the better
Let me just work on my cars and trucks and lawn mowers.
Paint me as determined to keep life in balance
And I’m skiing away from life itself
(the house, the dogs and the cats, and even plants.
Leave me with my critters.
Paint me without hateful words
Or holding onto hatefulness
For it puts me out of balance…
Paint me happy and content with my life.
***It might need some editing, but it’s great for a first draft. :0)
I love how we hadn’t even talked about personification, and he was already inviting rain, like a friend to come out and play. By the way, this poem is on the second day of poetry and done by a boy. He did such a brilliant job, the other boys followed suit. However, one must note we enjoy several poems a week all year long.
Raindrops
By Rylee Ford
Rain tickles your feet.
You’re splashing in puddles.
Kids beg their mommas
To get their swimming suits on
And go play.
It tickles your forehead.
Kids splash and play in the rain.
It goes down your back.
It tickles your back.
You giggle, you laugh, you splash.
Again, it showcases such freedom to interact with words. This was also done on the second day of poetry and has a musicality to it.
I wanted to showcase how easy it is for a six year old to write poetry. How do we lose this sense of noticing and awe and wonder? Of all the genres I teach, this is the genre that’s usually the easiest for the kids because they LIVE poetry. Almost everything a first grader says is poetry. I try to capture snippets of what they say because it is not only precious but sometimes quite genius!
This exercise was done after doing some artwork that we wanted parents to see and I thought it would be cool to have some poetry with it. As a teacher, I’ve learned to watch my world a little slower…a little easier…and try to see it through first grade eyes.
So, my husband says, “You are a right brained person. Why do you try to confine yourself in a left brain world? You have varied interests. Blog about them all!” “But,” I implore, “my readers will be confused.” And then gently he reminds me, ” The blog is for you, “
So…I love Writing as Healing..and I love poetry as well as any other kind of writing…and I love family and savory food and art and photography and little things that fancy me, I LOVE life…I LIVE life…I WRITE life….and so it is.
In honor of loving writing challenges, I shall take this one from NaPoWriMO,
A Loving Human World,
There are marks everywhere
I’m formed by some love streaks on paper
He lives on this paper,
a GRAND image
Standing on fields of green and flowers
light and beauty abounds all around
even in shadowy corners
I see myself in strange footage
Seeing everything in its truest form
I can sense he’ll approach with his encouraging arms
And embrace all that I am
even the ugly parts
aligned with pieces of love charms.
This love envelopes me,
protects me
opens me more.
My world is a bunch of stray love marks
Drawn onto this paper
revealing me in all my accepted humanness.
Ever had those days when you get stuck? I don’t mean a little stuck. I mean SHUT DOWN everything kind of stuck. Well it happened to me. No matter what I tried, a paragraph, an article, rewriting already written pieces! Nothing would help. I decided to take out one of my Poetry tools, and just play. My work, teaching, sometimes keeps me in left brain so much, I forget to jump to the right brain and just play, And who doesn’t love to play?
Since I’ve been writing my dad’s story, I decided to at least try a tool that might assist me toward this goal. So, I made Alzheimer’s a character. Weird, right? It was glorious! I used a poetry technique called Personification. What would Alzheimer’s house look like? What kind of car would it drive? What would it’s clothes and shoes be like? That’s only the start and pretty easy to fill out a list type of thing. Lists become handy when you’re stuck, but this made me a more targeted list.
But where things get really juicy is going deeper. How do I get to the heart and soul of Alzheimer’s and showcase the role it plays in people’s lives, both bad and good? I begin to write down Alzheimer’s “friends” and “enemies.” Once I know who Alzheimer’s friends are, I am naming out loud what parts hurt and what role they play in my life-word thief, relationship thief, sadness, depression, scatterbrained and scarcity, locked vault. Then, as I name Alzheimer’s enemies, I get to name what parts I am missing in my life, so I can name my loss and again renew the process of healing- happiness, peace of mind, abundance, HOPE.
And even deeper – EVERY CHARACTER HAS A REDEEMING QUALITY –
Just like anything in life, there are two sides to every story, even Alzheimer’s. Though it’s a terribly rotten disease that robs loved ones of many precious events, it still offers gifts. So what is Alzheimer’s redeeming quality? CHERISH – It reminds me that every day is precious and to hold on and linger with every moment I have with my dad. I MAKE MY CONVERSATIONS WITH MY DAD COUNT! I record each conversation, even the little ones. I want to remember my dad saying I love you. I want to remember the silly sayings and funny voices he uses to greet me each day. I want to remember that this vaulted man took a chance on ME. He is trusting me with his precious life books. He is trusting me to hold on to those stories that in sometimes day to day life are elusive to him. He, like all of us, wants to be understood before it’s too late. If I didn’t cherish the time I had with my dad, I might have lost out on learning who he really is. Without this time, I might not have really honored and treasured that precious laugh and sense of humor. I am blessed in this moment.
Writing Wings For You 