Poems of the Week ~ by Gillena, Marja and Sara

Today, my friends, we offer you three poems of identity, written in different corners of the globe by Marja, who blogs at A Dutch Corner in New Zealand, Gillena, of Lunch Break, who lives in Trinidad-Tobago, and Sara, of  Purple Pen in Portland, who lives in New York. I note that each of them finds self and peacefulness in the landscape surrounding them. We think you will enjoy their observations.

WHO AM I?

When I think about myself
I think of a quiet observer,
blending in a flowerbed of daisies
At times I drag through life
pulled down by life's gravity
plagued by weltschmertz

In my earth bound dwelling
my shutters detach me often
from me, from my soul
this part of a timeless whole,
guided by whispers of the wind
protected by the wings it carries.

When the shutters open........

I feel the aliveness of crystal cold
water, oozing through my fingers
I feel fabulous as I float like
driftwood, with my cheek turned
to the sun, caressed with kisses.

I form a sacred bond with a friend

we pierce a hole in the night

to fill it with our wishes, our pain,
our pleasures, our dreams.

We peel the petals of our heart,
to unwrap the tender parts.

I feel the strength of a mighty mountain,
the courage of a fantail flying among
eagles, the joy of a night sky
brimming with dazzling dreams
and the anticipation of a falling
star diving into new territories

I search for the secrets of the sage
I am inspired by a muse. I am in
wonder of the wisdom of the bell-bird
who doesn't retreat when it rains
but chirps and splashes in utter delight.

When I walk through my veils, 
my spotlight turned outwards

I am a soldier of peace and love

and I embrace life with a hug
I embrace life

source

Sherry: This is so lovely, Marja. I especially like the quiet observer, blending in a flowerbed of daisies, and your closing lines about embracing life. 

Marja: I did some soul searching when the following prompt was up at Poets United: "When I think about myself" and wrote Who am I. I feel I am one of the many daisies, only a sensitive one which gets bent down by the bad vibes in this world, like we all do, I think. 

I talk about my shutters being closed, which basically is because of the constant chatter in the mind which is not always positive. When you quiet down, I believe you have access to wisdom. Everyone has it, and nature is one of the best places to quiet down and to become alive. When you come to certain insights or have dreams, this comes to existence when poured into words and bounced off  a friend, which is another pleasure. 

Then you turn your attention outwards and pour as much love and peace into the world as you can. That's what I strive for.

Sherry: I agree. We need the positive now more than ever.

Thank you, Marja, for sharing your beautiful poem. Gillena has an answer to the question: who am I? Let's read.

ME

Laughter in gulps, tea in sips,
nature a coverlet, the finest counterpane,
introspection - guardian of silence,
armour of joy, window of smiles,
the adulting mind, the charming apron;
all these, cover a soul, who really is a child,
tender, frightened, tear-stained: me.

source

Sherry: I so love "laughter in gulps, tea in sips"! The idea of "nature a coverlet" is so lovely and comforting.  And I really like your acknowledgement that, under our adult veneers, still lives that small child of our yesterdays. 

Gillena: This one, Sherry, is really a poem of introspection. You know those moments when you take a good look at yourself, knowing that only you matter. [God in this case is default].  I suppose it's what the Rastafarians mean when they talk about "i and i".

Yet you question who is this person, this person that i am. What do i want, do i really need anything outside of natural sustenance? Should i really stretch my wants outside that frame of reference? And am I okay with being me?

Sherry: Deep questions, my friend. I suspect that when we know enough to ask them, we already know the answer. Thank you for the pause that allows us to ask ourselves the same questions.

Sara finds her peace in wilderness, and has written so beautifully about it.

Meanings of Wilderness

If wilderness is being wild
as an adult and not a child
I’ll show you stories I’ve compiled.
Not for the mild, not for the mild.

If wilderness is woods so dense
then being there would make me tense.
I do require openness
without suspense, without suspense.

If wilderness is peace, you see,
there’s no where else I’d like to be
then staring out across the sea.
Tranquility, tranquility.

source

Sara: In thinking about the word wilderness, I played with the concept of wilderness being a place, and/or state of mind. It can be quite different in meaning for a child or adult. 

If I contemplate wilderness as wild lands, such as forests, a sense of being smothered arises in me, whereas wilderness as a place of peace and tranquility is ocean and sand. If you have read my poetry before, my love of the ocean is well documented. 

Sherry: Mine, too, my friend. You know how much I resonate with this poem, Sara. The shore means tranquility to me, as well. Reading your lines gave me such a peaceful feeling.

Thank you so much, Gillena, Marja and Sara, for the clarity and beauty of these moments of self-expression.  It has been a beautiful pause in our fast-paced day.

Weren't these beautiful offerings, my friends? Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!

Poems of the Week ~ by Marja, Colleen and Susan

This week, my friends, we are contemplating poems of strength and hope, much needed in this year of one disastrous event after another. Marja Blom, of  A Dutch Corner in New Zealand    , Colleen Redman , of Loose Leaf Notes, and Susan Chast, of  Susan's Poetry,  have each written a poem that will lift your hearts, and affirm your beliefs, so pull up a chair, pour yourself a cup of tea, and enjoy.

INVITATION TO PEACE

Lay down in the long tall grass
in the dimness of dawn
Watch your thoughts
Watch your inner self
afraid of scarcity
Watch your need
for control
Watch and let go
Let go of expectations
Let go of limitations
Let go of attachment
Let nothing owe you
Just be

Lay down in the long tall grass
in the dimness of dawn
Watch the sun rise
See, it playfully paints the earth
Feel it warms the wondrous world
Scattering its dazzling rays freely
on the banker and the homeless man
on the Christian and the Muslim
The sun is sapient
as it shines on everyone
as it knows no borders
as it is and let things
just be

Lay down in the long tall grass
in the dimness of dawn
watch the sky turn into chaos
The sun doesn’t compete with it
but will tenderly perch
through the dark veil
to reach you
to guide you
to inner peace
shining on this untamed place
it invites you to pass it like a torch
to show how to
just be

Sherry: Just Be. Such a wise message. I love this beautiful poem, Marja.

Marja: My poem is for me a framework on which my beliefs are built. I learned from poets, writers and life itself that peace starts within yourself. It starts with awareness of oneself and one another. Awareness that, for example, if you are attached to something and you lose it, you experience grief, loss, anger etc.  Of course, we are attached to our loved ones and as Queen Elizabeth II said "Grief is the price we pay for love."

We are, however, also attached to things we don't need. We are made to believe that we need all these things, like big houses, the newest iPhone, and become attached to a life of gathering. If we are aware that we don't need these things, we don't have to waste our time on it.

Having said that, we should be able to develop in our own way and in our own time. Within relationships peace is possible when people receive the space to be and become themselves. When you expect someone to become what you want them to be, both suffer.

Furthermore, if you start living from a feeling of abundance, that there is enough for everyone, and live in non-attachment, it would enable you to share.  Besides that, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link; we could start focusing on the weakest link in the community, country, world. Every link is important to make the chain strong and if that link is someone who differs from you a lot, then focus on what you have in common, as we are all human beings.

In summary, just let things come into your life, enjoy when they are there and let go. Just like the tides. Like in the animal world, just use what you need, not what you want and let go. Let everything just be. Accept life as it is and move forwards by trying to improve it from there, and take responsibility for it. If we all would take time to become aware of what really matters, then personal and collective peace will increase.

I could extend,  but I love the framework of the poem so everyone has the freedom to build their own ideas from it.

Sherry: Very wise reflections, Marja. In my grandmother's day, they lived frugally, no excess, no waste. It was a better way, I think. Perhaps these times will teach us to live more simply, put less strain on the planet. I hope so.

Thank you so much for sharing this poem and your thoughts. Colleen is sharing a poem that brings such peace in its reading that I caught my breath. It reads like a meditation, and I thought we could all use some peacefulness in our lives right now. Let's look:

Counterpoint

After the nightly news
comes the wood thrush

the monks of the forest
sing a sundown service

buried like jewels
in canopy cathedrals

their clarity of truth
shines with good news
and rises above all falsehood

Sherry: This falls into my heart like rain, Colleen. I drank in the peace and beauty of this poem like cool water on a parched throat. It is just so beautiful! I became one of the monks, as I read.

Colleen: Birdsong is a portal that opens my heart and brings me back to the innocence of my childhood.  I especially love the song of the wood thrush. This summer I spent evenings on the hammock letting their song cut through the chatter and divisions of the world and bring be to a deeper reality.  I began to think of the wood thrush as nature’s counterpoint to the man-made chaos reported on the nightly news, which I also listen to.  I never see them but hear them calling from the wild of the woods.  I feel encouraged, knowing they are there, doing what they were made to, without an agenda.

Sherry: The birds give me peace, too, Colleen. They live so simply, and so sweetly, eating, singing, spreading joy. They have much to teach us about how to live. Thank you for this beauty of a poem. 

Recently, Susan wrote an uplifting poem about the joy, sweetness and love of animals - another source of comfort for us in trying times. Let's take a peek.

OUR EYES HOLD THANKS

            1.

We don’t worry about the animals

who have stewards so much as those who don’t.

I’ve brought orphan kittens home to clean up

and feed, trying hard not to fall in love.

Stuffing, a calico puffball, grew old

downstairs, purring into her steward’s ears.

The human Stuffing cared for needed warmth,

companionship and reminders to pause.

Blackie, a horse I knew, found friendly pasture

where a horse mate kissed and nuzzled her.

They stewarded the humans who brought them 

apples and straw and sugar cubes and smiles.

            2.

Mom’s cat Mimi is horrified that I

sit near her evening spot on the couch back.

She glares wild-eyed at me, then Mom, then me,

until I offer to trade seats with Mom.

Mom comes to sit near me, and Mimi leaps

bravely between us to her cushioned perch.

She won’t blink in response to me, but stares

as if in shock that I dared displace her.

Bad enough that I have Mom’s attention,

but the couch, too?  What was I thinking?

            3.

Carcasses dot two-hundred miles of road

between their house and mine.  Road kill, it’s called.

Crushed deer and skunk, squirrels and cats confront

me, shake me up, resound against my eyes.

There is not a human among them. Have 
traffic agents lifted human remains?

            4.

Rescue kitties, twin girls, stay behind when

I travel.  I worry that they'll forget me.

They worry that I'll forget them, but I 

don't and they don't.  We forgive each other.

I hope they don't prefer the cat sitter.

They sniff me thoroughly, reading the news.

I've been with someone else, so they'll postpone

their certain welcome.  They make me wait a bit.

5.

We hug us, we're animals together.

We hold us close, grateful to be alive

Soft light and warmth diffuses our wonder

at finding safety here within our house.

We may never leave home again—unless

earthquakes and floods and fire threaten, beckon.

Then we’ll traverse the path with care, offer

a hand to animal friends and strangers.

           

Sherry: How I love this poem full of animals! I'm sad about the roadkill. It is always so distressing to see how our being in the world has impacted the wild creatures. And I love the reminder that humans are animals too. We hold ourselves so high, forgetting we are but one species among millions.


Susan: I was thinking about how we forget that humans are animals, and that only when animals' lives matter will we think of the littlest of us in all countries. The more I thought about it, the more this meant that we had to think of ourselves as being taken care of -- not just humans caring for animals. Stewardship is not one-way. 

As I began writing, I saw that vivid examples spoke more impressively than philosophies. I ended up taking away all the verses that moralized, and leaving experiences that might resonate, experiences that helped me grow my own soul and spirit. Left alone, we have easier lives in some ways, but without the gratitude that shows us our place. There, I have started moralizing again! I prefer poetry. I am beyond delighted that you have chosen my poem.

Sherry: It is true - animals care for us as much as we do for them - and more selflessly. They have such true, devoted hearts. I remember Marge Piercy advising you to try to make the reader feel the experience, rather than telling them how you felt during the experience. You have done so wonderfully in this poem. 

Thank you so much, Marja, Colleen and Susan, for your wonderfully uplifting poems. We poets help keep the discussion positive, as we voice the yearnings most of the population feels for unity and peace. Thank you for reminding us of the abundant beauty and love that surrounds us still.

We hope you enjoyed these poems, my friends, and that your hearts are lifted and encouraged by them. Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!

LIFE OF A POET ~ MARJA

We are in for a treat this week, my friends, as we fly across the world to Canterbury, Christchurch, New Zealand, to visit our new friend, Marja. Marja writes at A DUTCH CORNER IN NEW ZEALAND, where she shares the most beautiful photos of the stunning landscape in which she lives, her "sanctuary of nature." On her blog, Marja states, "I am blessed to live in paradise where there are lots of sacred places where I feel safe, relaxed, where I take in beauty, energy, where I feel at home." For the minutes in which we are visiting, through her words and beautiful photographs, we will be blessed to enjoy it, too. 

Sherry: Marja, we are so happy to meet you, so pleased you found your way to Poets United. As you are new to Poets United, would you give us a snapshot of the poet at home? 

Marja: I am a computer trainer and I also volunteer teaching children in an IT kids Club once a week. I live with my husband, a son and a cat in Christchurch, New Zealand. My daughter lives in Wellington. She is an amazing poet but stopped writing.

Sherry: She will likely come back to it. With writers, in times when we are not writing, the words wait patiently for us to return. And how I adore your gorgeous piano! How wonderful to be able to play out of doors! 

Marja: Unfortunately it is not my piano. I hardly have any photos of me as I am usually behind the camera. We took a blogging friend who visited us to Akaroa, to the Giant House. She made a photo of me. All the art is made by Josie Martin, an exceptional artist.  There is a bit more about it on my blog here. Also I don't play the piano. I am just being silly sometimes :).

Sherry: It looks a wonderful spot to visit! Given the name of your blog, I assume there may be a story of moving from Holland to New Zealand? If so, when did you make the move and would you like to tell us about this major life change?

Castle Wijchen

Marja: My husband is a Dutch kiwi born in Christchurch. His family moved back to Holland but he didn’t like it. One thing he didn’t like is that it rained too much. When I met him, I tried umbrellas, rain coats, anything, to no avail 😉 

Wijchen is my home town. I grew up close to the Castle Wijchen and played in its gardens. And I got married in the castle.

Sherry: How wonderful to be married in a castle! Yay!

Nijmegan

Marja: Nijmegan is a city close to us. We have lots of history. This is a weigh house built in 1612. It was a public building within which goods were weighed.

Sherry: How very grand the architecture is! History in every brick and line of the buildings. 

Sumner, Christchurch

Marja: We left for Christchurch when the children were still small. My initial thought when I lived in Christchurch was “aaargh, what have I done,” as we didn’t know many people and everything was so different. I experienced some sort of identity crisis. Now I wouldn’t change Christchurch for anything. I absolutely love it, even though it gives me the shakes sometimes.

Sherry: Oh, my goodness, Christchurch is beautiful. I have always heard that New Zealand is much like my home province of British Columbia, in Canada. I do see similarities. You live in a stunningly beautiful country. Why does it "give you the shakes?" Smiles.

Marja: On September 4th, 2010, there was a 7.1 earthquake in Christchurch. After many aftershocks, we had a second major one on February 22, 2011. In that one, 185 people died, and the whole inner city got destroyed. It was scary, as both our children went to school in the city center. For three hours we didn't hear any sign of them, as the cellphone system was overloaded. Finally I got through to one of them.

Arthur's Pass, New Zealand

Sherry: Oh my goodness, that must have been terrifying. I am glad you all made it through safely. It must have been a very hard time for the town. I watched some footage online, and the devastation was extreme.

Where did you grow up, Marja? Is there anything from childhood that, looking back, you think led you to becoming a poet?

Marja: I grew up in the South-East of the Netherlands. No, never thought I would write poetry, but at school I found out I could write. I worked hard in intermediate, as I wanted to become a teacher. The requirement was to have a score of 7 average to enter the right school. My average was 8 but my English was so bad that I couldn’t pursue my dream. 

I didn’t enjoy the school I had to go to next so my marks dropped significantly. But towering among the low marks was a 9.5 for Dutch. We had to write a story for the exam.  My parents showed it to my uncle who was a teacher and he didn’t believe I wrote it. He was sure I had read it somewhere. A few years later, a teacher at school said the same, so there must have been a writer inside me. Logically I went for an office career.

Arthur's Pass

Sherry:  We are happy you kept on with your writing! And you definitely have mastered English! What do you love about poetry, Marja?

Marja: I want to quote the beautiful words from the movie, the Dead Poet society, and second it. “We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”     N.H. Kleinbaum

Sherry: I could not agree more!

Marja: I especially love inspirational and spiritual poetry. Probably I needed a lot of inspiration in my life, as it has been a bit of a roller coaster.

My favourite poet is Marie Oliver. Furthermore, I love David Whyte, Rainer Maria Rilke, Victoria Erickson, Rabindranath Tagore, Rumi, and many more.

Sherry: Lovely choices! When did you first begin writing, Marja?

Marja: I setup a blog in 2007 to show my family about my life in New Zealand. My blog was a bit of an island to start with. Shortly after, Melissa or Missy from Oklahoma came peddling towards my island and we became friends. She was a poet and pointed me towards … Writers Island. Me, the one who has dysnomia, which is like (sing it with me) "Words don't come easy, to me" started to write poetry. 

I discovered that paper is patient. I write occasionally as it competes with work and many other things. When I won’t be on Poets United during the NZ summer, I will be in the hills somewhere, making photos.

Sherry: And your photos are spectacular! I look forward to those posts! Would you like to share three of your poems with us, and tell us a bit about each?

Marja: I had two vivid dreams in which I danced. I have a passion for dancing, love seeing it, and can’t sit still when I hear music. I have dyspraxia, an inability to plan coordinated movement, so I was an example at ballet class of how not to move. I did develop some good moves which I perform when cleaning the house. The first two poems represent my dreams. The last poem speaks for itself.

Indulgence in dance

Lifted into wonder of a mystical night

wakened by crying violins

Moonlight illuminates untouchable feet

of a swirling beauty who calls the one

 with a bitter song so sweet
 

Flaming black eyes enter the magic
 fuelled by thundering clapping
Awakening the spirit of romance
 of two silhouettes who understand
the language of a Gypsy dance

During the embrace of two souls
 the rhythm and the beat slows down
the stillness of the night returns
but in the heart of the dancers
an eternal fire burns

As the shimmering veil of dawn rises
Bouncing hoofs announce a departure
a cloud of dust cloaks the horse and man 

  

Dying flames                         

She shivers, waking up silence                    
staring into dancing flames,                         
hypnotising her, taking her                            

to a place where she twirls                              
with grace for                                                    
two piercing eyes                                              
clouding a crowd                                              

her arms                                                            

unfolding petals                                                

A Port de Bras                                                    
in a Pas de Deux      

Her muscles stretched                                      
like strings of a guitar                                      
vibrated by admiration                                      
a standing ovation                                            

a note                                                                  

"for my queen of night"                                    
in elegant strokes                                              
between thorns of roses                                  
deep red, evokes                                              

a dream                                                              

until                                                                  

his insistent absence
cools her passion
She shivers, waking up silence  
staring into dying flames  

Sherry: Thank you for these, Marja. I can envision her, dancing and twirling. These are both very lovely.                               

On poetry

My life, a drop in the ocean
My words, countless pebbles on the beach
Occasionally I experience
The depth and beauty of the ocean
Occasionally I add to it
shedding tears of sadness
These profound feelings can’t
just be put into words
 be added to the shallow pebbles
Each stone must be carefully carved
Each stone must be gently polished
Each stone must be lined up and combined;
to create the art of evoking feelings
to create poetry
and when you share these pebbles
with the ocean and they touch one drop
the universe will smile
with a stunning red sunset

Sherry: A beautiful description of crafting a poem, and being rewarded with a sunset upon its completion. 

I note, on your blog's Kids Corner, that you write poems and stories for children too. How long have you been writing for children?

Marja: That’s another dormant dream. I absolutely love children and poetry. The poems on my blog are the only ones I wrote. I would also like to write stories for children. I am still alive and kicking, so watch that space.

Sherry: Yes, indeed. I know those stories are waiting to be written! You are also interested in art, as I see on your blog. And your photography is wonderful, as we can see. And there are many more stunning photographs on your blog, listed under Shutterstock Photos.  I urge our members to check them out. 

From the look of your photos, it seems you have traveled considerably. Where is your favourite place on the planet that you have visited or lived in?

Santorini

Marja: You can’t go wrong taking photos in New Zealand as it is breathtaking. I visited Santorini in Greece last time when I went to Holland, as it was on my bucket list. That was stunning. 

Because Holland is my home country it is easy to go places from there. I also adore the Pacific Islands.  I went to Tonga and Vanuatu. The Tongans are such charming people. They always smile and greet you with “Malo e lelei”. Rightfully they call Tonga “the friendly islands” We asked a bus driver were the harbour was and he said to his clients outside the bus: “wait, I am back in 4 minutes, have to bring some Palagi (white people) to the harbour.” 

Tonga

Sherry: How lovely!  Tonga sounds especially wonderful. Is there a place you have yet to see on your Bucket List?

Marja: Another Pacific Island named Rarotonga is on my list. I still want to go to Budapest one day, and I have a blogging friend in Sydney I would like to visit.

Sherry: I do hope you get there. Is there anything you’d like to say to Poets United? 

Marja: I am honoured to be part of a wonderful community with so many talented writers. It is so much fun to be able to share poetry and I enjoy reading all the amazing poems.

Sherry: We are very happy you made your way to us, Marja. Thank you for this wonderful visit today, and for the stunning scenery! 

Wasn't this a lovely visit, my friends? Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!