we feel poetry and art
in the sensitive veins
that run through soul and
carry not blood but spirit
soul
Openings
Art is when you hear a knocking from your soul — and you answer.
Windblown
The veil concealing truth gets windswept in the wee hours, revealing all to the silence of the night.
Kindling
Every dawn relights my soul.
Love & Be-Loved
You divide my soul into love and
Inside the lines, outside the box
Journal: fitting your heart and soul into ruled lines.
Sessile
Life is a dance of balance.
Life is creative falling.
Life is half spent getting back up.
Life is learning to dance with a partner —
and learning to dance without a partner,
and letting go enough to dance in the crowd.
Life is a freestyle jig.
Life is a twirl and a bow.
Life is the best dance you’ve ever danced
and the only chance you’ll get, so dance!
Death is your dancing soul returning to the heavens.
Arise thankful
a new day doesn’t mean
forgetting yesterday
but simply letting it go
not to dwell in memories
but to cherish each one
as it pops up and surprises us
and then release it with a smile
the birds are singing of now
our hearts beat of the present
the past is a muted background
enhancing our carpe-diem lives
dawn paints the scene of today
and invites us to live beautifully
to be the artists of our own souls
Umber
there are only so many poems one can write
about umber tree roots and the glowing moon
before the psyche starts crying out to be heard
the suffering of the world isn’t poetic
but it is essential to poetry
Selves
A philosopher lives in your mind,
a lover in your heart,
an alchemist in your soul.
An Explanation
You need not think
It’s vanity that makes me prink,
And take much care
To keep myself both fit and fair.
‘Tis not false pride or vain conceit
That keeps me trying to be neat,
But just the plain and simple truth
That I have held to since my youth
That this old frame in which I dwell
Is nothing more than the hotel
In which my Soul and Hopes must stay
Until I’m called to move away,
And for their dwelling-place I plan
To give them quite the best I can,
And keep the place up spick and span.
—John Kendrick Bangs (1862–1922), “An Explanation,” The Cheery Way: A Bit of Verse For Every Day, 1920
In effect
guilt, grief, regret
cut deeper than
the dimensions
of the soul itself