Ancestors

Day Ten
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Ancestors

Her voice trickles through heavy roar
of traffic, not like marigolds who hold their

petal memories above forgotten graves behind
concrete walls where ancestors drift in trembling

light that makes its way through cloud grey skies.
And lovers dance over bones of those remaining

under sidewalk gardens and marble columns,
turning up the volume of white space between

beats as figures trace two, now one in embrace,
and bow and turn between the jugglers’ trance.

And our ancestors smile.

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Author’s Note:

This weekend I was delighted!

Three of us trotted into Capitol Hill to write poetry. Through the sponsorship of The Lighthouse Writers Workshop and Write Denver, we joined about twenty others who walked the town to write poetry. Check out Denver Poetry Map where you can read the city.

Bullhorn in hand, our leader took us to the Denver Botanic Gardens, Cheeseman Park, houses in the Cheeseman area, and a coffee house. We stopped, listened to a local poet’s poem through the bullhorn and wrote for fives minutes, then we moved on.

It rained. First big rain of the season.

And then there was Ice Cream Riot. What better way to end the day with “milk stout” scoop?  Yes. Stout. In vanilla ice cream. Oh!

Cheeseman Park and the Denver Botanic Gardens are built on top of a graveyard. Attempts were made to remove all who rested there, but as ground is turned for new projects, more ancestors are found.

One can remove bones, but spirit will be where spirit will be. We mustn’t forget.

Shakin’ the Blues Away

Day Eight
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Shakin’ the Blues Awayit

I look into the blue for answers

I want it to come from a place
I cannot fathom, because,
maybe something I don’t know
or see or understand will answer
and the answer will palliate the pain
I can barely hold

She murmurs the petition, Lordy,
why do we have to ask love’s failing,
love’s loss,
can’t I see
she is blue

She was wrapped in blue by unknown hands.
When was the first time her robes flowed
the color of sky weeping into a sea of fishermen
who one day would journey away

Love is delivered in innumerable shipments,
loss just as manifold

It’s part of the deal

Blue skies smile
The blues wail

It’s all perspective

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Author’s Note:

Losing someone you love leaves a hole so deep it’s difficult to take a breath big enough to fill it in in order to stay alive.

We put our doggie down this week, a good and right decision. But the wash of blue rolls over and over me again, and again and again.

This week, this month, this year have made me wonder about words in scripture, in poetry, in lyrics, in our day-to-day musings.

I reach for an answer and come back once again to Presence. I am on a journey here – this moment, right now – making my way to fully embrace all that Is.

And sometimes it hurts. It’s part of the deal.

Lexanne

Above image: Nature’s Love Song by Ioyan Mani

Signs

Day Seven
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Signs

a crow
two ducks
a fallen rose
some would inform me signs are silly

but as a crow flies above
into a blazing sunset
a message from a loved one passed
all is well

my mom and dad
both now gone
quatered nesting ducks in their planter
two visitors in my yard today
all is well

a fallen rose
St. Theresa’s calling
she kept him company
consoled him in his fear
all is well

Spirit comes to me in signs
not every one can see them

Bremen

Day Six
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Bremen11222698_10205982898843507_6213414869212853722_n

The cheese wrapper crinkled
and there was no nose
nudging a nibble.

You left my world today,
I miss you, Bremen.

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Author’s Note:

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo

And now, our (optional) prompt! Today, I challenge you to write a poem about food. This could be a poem about a particular food, or about your relationship to food in general. Or it could simply be a poem relating an incident that involves food, like David Ignatow’s “The Bagel”. Still not convinced? Perhaps these thirteen food poems will give you some inspiration. Happy writing!

We had to put our doggie down today. My heart is broken.

Red Giants

Day Four
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Red Giants

NGC-2392

Planetary Nebula NGC 2392, Astronomy Magazine

 

I let go in January,

After boxes were packed away
Hiding the facade of hope
From jubilant times once full of promise.

I dismissed it and it slipped
through my fingers,
Like those who stole away
Through the veil.

Again, and again, and again.

And, once again, as one remembered
in a year gone by.

Eliot was wrong.
It is January’s bitter.

Stinging nights keep watch as the moon sleeps dark and stars burn
so hot they snuff themselves to blink out of sight without a hint
of goodbye, if one isn’t watchful.

It was in January, the cruelest month,
I let go of promise and dreams
along a trail of dying stars.

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Author’s Note:

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo

“And now, for our (optional) prompt. In his poem “The Wasteland,” T.S. Eliot famously declared that “April is the cruelest month.” But is it? I’d have thought February. Today I challenge you to write a poem in which you explore what you think is the cruelest month, and why. Perhaps it’s September, because kids have to go back to school. Or January, because the holidays are over and now you’re up to your neck in snow. Or maybe it’s a month most people wouldn’t think of (like April), but which you think of because of something that’s happened in your life. Happy (or, if not happy, not-too-cruel) writing!”

Metanoia

Day Three
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Metanoia

A Prayer to New Beginnings

 

Those first leaves
that aren’t leaves at all,
those that protect and guide the way
from hardened seed
to roots spreading down,
Cotyledon,
lead me on to sun
and rain,
make room, push aside
quickening soil
to aim my face
where sky bridges earth.
Protect me on my way
from embryo to me.

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Author’s Note:

Three women inspired today’s poem.

Joan Chittister at Monasteries of the Heart.

 

 

Laura Flanders at Colorado Backyard Gardener.

 

And, if you’ve been following me, once again, Diana Butler Bass whose book Grounded is rocking my world. CBS aired a piece this morning around her thinking. If you have found yourself on a widening path as I have, this may speak to your heart.

51RuBDJLBJL._AC_UL115_    http://www.cbsnews.com/videos/faith-spirituality-the-future/

Primordial

Day Two
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Primordial

 

You whisper to me,
ancients who know the path

I pick up a grounded seed dropped
from limbs arched to sky

and yet firmament begins
at my feet, no need to reach

to touch Infinity, you surround me –
my family, my guardians, my Beloved

a little shake and the world
trembles knowing its possibilities

I release you back to earth
allowing what comes, to be

As we cycle around, Sun and Moon
in rhythm, heartbeats echo as One,

seed will sprout beneath moist loam,
trusting the ancient way, the only way

to grow and nurture, give oneself back,
and begin again the cycle primordial

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Author’s Note:

Day Two of NaPoWriMo

“And now, our daily (optional) prompt. Today, I challenge you to write a poem that takes the form of a family portrait. You could write, for example, a stanza for each member of your family. You could also find an actual snapshot of your family and write a poem about it, spending a little bit of time on each person in the picture. You don’t need to observe any particular form or meter. Happy writing!”

 

Thank you for visiting my blog today.

I want to give a special thank you to Sandra Ingerman. I am currently in a Year of Ceremony sponsored by SoundsTrue. Her journey and inspiration have given me a new meaning of family. Also, to Kathleen Gorman from Sacred Space Colorado and the Four Winds Society for walking with me as I come to meet myself and my Beloved.

I would like to invite you to introduce yourself, like, comment, tweet, and/or share this post with friends on this second day of NaPoWriMo.

If you leave a comment below, I will enter your name in a free drawing for a copy of my book of poetry, Filters. Tweet, and I’ll put your name in twice! Just be sure to tag me in your tweet. Subscribe to my blog and I put you in one more time. (Sorry, but you need to be in the continental US, postage you know.)

This first drawing will close at 1:00 am Mountain Daylight Time, April 9th. Check back and I will post the winner sometime in the morning of April 9th.

Another freebie?

Yes. I have two poems published in Casual, a FREE e-book at Tweetspeak Poetry. Check them out! They are a delightful resource for getting your poetry on!

See you tomorrow.

Lexanne

 

 

Doubt

 Day One
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DoubtRiparian

I stand on riparian ground
that place between
two more certain realities,
liminal,
solitary but exhaling
into One, the way of being.

When I look for you,
feel where you should be,
listen for your words
that have faded from my space,
I cry out so you will hear me,
come back to take my hand
and dance again.

Remembering you are Source.
I still myself, rest assured
that you are Always.

Renegade partners, we
One ourselves,
a geography of
trust and transformation,
an ocean of fidelity where
there is no room for doubt.

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Author’s Note:

Singularity. Alone. Renegade.

It is important to remember I am not the same person I was.

As I stand in that place within what was and what is and will be, a liminal time and space, I must remember I am never alone.

I am looping over and over again who I was, with who I am creating, and who I will become.

All of me is where everything exists at once, but not yet fully understood.

Take my hand, we are renegades, all of us One and Beloved, in this great dance.

There is no room for doubt.

Lexanne

 

Once more I must credit Grounded by Diana Butler Bass for the inspiration. I’ve borrowed some words and, most definitely, ideas. Her book is transforming my life. Much, much gratitude.

 

 

Jesus said, “So, you believe because you’ve seen with your own eyes. Even better blessings are in store for those who believe without seeing.” John 20:29, The Message

 

My place is the Placeless, my trace is the Traceless ;
‘Tis neither body nor soul, for I belong to the soul of the Beloved.
I have put duality away, I have seen that the two worlds are one;
One I seek, One I know, One I see, One I call
~ Rumi

 

 

 

Welcome!

Happy first day of National Poetry Month!!!!!

Today I celebrate by sharing the full reflection from my weekly newsletter – Journey/lex.

I would love to share this weekly journey with you. You can subscribe here.

Tomorrow I will post more information how, if you are in the continental U.S., you can win a free copy of my book of poetry, Filters.

Hope to see you tomorrow!