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Invitation to Poetry: The Gifts (and Challenges) of Winter

Welcome to the Abbey’s 54th Poetry Party (it has been long overdue)!

I select an image and suggest a theme/title and invite you to respond with your own poem. Scroll down and add it in the comments section below. Feel free to take your poem in any direction and then post the image and invitation on your blog (if you have one), Facebook, or Twitter, and encourage others to come join the party! (permission is granted to reprint the image if a link is provided back to this post)

On Sunday, January 15, I will draw a name at random from the participants and the winner will receive a free registration spot in my upcoming online art retreat for the season of Lent – Soul of a Pilgrim (February 22-April 7, 2012).

Image

 

I adore winter trees.  Something about their bare beauty, revealing their essence against a pale sky, makes my soul sing.  They remind me that winter calls us to shed what is not necessary and turn inward, seeking the gifts of silence and stillness.  A winter landscape demands that we slow down to receive its invitation.  There is no rushing through this season.

I have a fascination with bones for the same reason.  Something about this return to our own essence offers up a powerful invitation to me.  In Paris I have gone to see the catacombs, a sacred burial site underground of the bones from millions of bodies that were deposited there.  Being in their presence elicited a deep sense of awe and wonder at the lives that once animated these skeletons, the brilliant minds contained in those skulls, the passionate hearts once beating within those bodies.  And knowing that one day I will also be rendered into the essence of dust and bone.  It can be a painful knowing, but one that brings me to a sense of cherishing life, of savoring its beauty.

I invite you to write a poem this week about the gifts (and challenges) of winter.  What does this season call forth from you?  Where do you seek greater restoration and the nourishment that only darkness can bring?  What are the challenges you experience as you wait for the light to return?

If you are one of my beloved southern hemisphere readers, feel free to image the far-off winter season, or share with us what you are discovering about summer’s gifts this year.

*Please note: Some folks are having trouble with the comment feature – I am looking into the issue, but if you are unable to leave your poem please email it to me at Christine@AbbeyoftheArts.com and I will make sure it is included.*

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76 Responses

  1. Standing naked
    as in Judgment
    all knots and crookedness
    exposed

    Look of death
    yet sap is only sleeping
    waiting to burst forth
    resting

    I, too, am barren
    waiting for the Sun
    to warm my cold insides
    Resurrection

  2. Grounded

    Your life,
    laid bare before us in winter.

    We see the this-way-and-that,
    twists-and-turns of your choices.

    But always you knew.
    No matter what happened above,
    roots fingered out deep below, knew.
    Knew who you were tethered to.

    Or else, you would not have reached so high.
    Would not have kept growing
    season after season,
    year after year.

    Your life.

  3. Who are you magnificent creature of God?

    I am woman. . . .
    Reaching forth with my many arms to lovingly touch with compassion other souls in the universe.

    I am dancer. . .
    Swaying gracefully to the rhythm of the spirit of the wind.

    I am veins and arteries. . .
    Keeping humans alive by moving blood and nutrients through their bodies.

    I am monk. . .
    Living and loving the solitude and silence that comes with winter while standing naked and vulnerable in front of the One who loves me unconditionally.

  4. A Bridge…the first poem for the New Year within my web-sites blog…
    Two distinct ‘photos’ accompany the words…
    I invite you to ‘join’ with me,
    and celebrate the uniqueness of our creativity
    and how it actually unites us and awakens our “Oneness”

  5. Fruits of the Earth (remembering of Malpas Retreat House)

    Fruits of the Earth, unworked by human hands;
    The orchard stands in neglectful dignity.
    Food for the table mouldering in the grass.
    Ancient apple trees giving of their best,
    Whilst dreamers walk past –
    Not noticing, not caring.

    Care?
    Silent entreaties – old wood, wasted branches
    Needing a master’s wisdom.
    A knowing eye, a healing hand.

    Like sheep, in a stonewalled pen
    We wait, forlorn yet hopeful
    As the seasons turn.
    From winter storms that strip branches and paralyse lifeblood
    To the renewed hope of spring,
    When we revel in our glorious dowry of blossom,
    A temptation to the eye.

    And yet to be left alone;
    To endure the pangs of overburdened branches
    Until the weight of summer harvest cracks them from the tree.
    To smell the potent giddiness of rotten fruit
    And drowse to the somnolent murmur of insects.

    Autumn lays bare our abandonment,
    Mortal gashes to our heartwood:
    Bark scabbing over broken limbs:
    Rust and olive mosses layering balm
    On torn wounds.
    The austerity of a graveyard.

    But we are not dead,
    Merely a cracked mirror image
    Of our dreamed selves.
    And we will stand another winter
    Expectant that he will come.
    The gardener, the shepherd,
    To gather us in,
    To mend our hurts,
    To make us whole.

  6. to delight in all
    that is my soul’s calling…

    warm and cold
    still and storm
    ice and flame
    shadow and light

    through each
    i am His
    and
    He is mine

    endless blessing
    in His glory…

    (amen.)

  7. Black Silhouette on Blue (Haiku)

    Lonely Outsider
    Yearning for communion joy
    Cries a hidden pain.

  8. Winter Quiltmaking—(or How Trees Really Spend Their Winters)

    She was always known for her parties—
    A bit eccentric, slightly daft—
    Dancing, swaying in a luscious green gown.
    But for this party (her farewell party)
    She wore skirts and scarves of brilliant yellow
    And swirled like a gypsy (or worse)
    Until she stood in gnarled nakedness.
    “Shameless,” they declared and abandoned the party—
    Scandalized.
    The last to leave, I turned to go,
    Grieved to see her frosty tears.
    “Come with me,” she said,
    And I saw that it was not tears,
    But a mischievous twinkle that
    Shone as jewels in her wise eyes.

    And so we went,
    Within,
    Inside,
    In the very center.
    And spent our days
    Spreading out yards and yards of colors,
    Cutting and shaping and stitching—
    Greens of every hue and tint,
    A bit of bird’s nest calico,
    A crazy quilt block of scampering squirrels,
    And silks of sunlight and raindrops and moonbeams.
    And over mugs of hot tea,
    We layered that top with clouds of batting,
    And a backing of fate.
    And we quilted in fine stitches—
    An owl’s penetrating hoot on a muggy night,
    Crackling lightning in a sudden storm,
    And the simple joy of being alive.
    And when we had bound the edges tight,
    She took the quilt and spread it out
    In the new spring air,
    And I went home,
    A bit more eccentric and slightly more daft.

    1. How wonderful! — lengthy, hidden from the world, inner walks right before the joy of a new found resurrection —- walks in the hibernating winter are quite exciting —like a party of preparation. I love this !

  9. The Naked Tree

    Alone and forgotten
    She stands straight.
    Each gust of wind bends her back –
    Bends but doesn’t break.
    She stretches her limbs
    Up, up
    Toward the pale sun
    And touches his warmth
    In a fleeting embrace.
    As the days wane
    And the nights trace
    Her outline by the moonglow,
    She is transparent,
    Vulnerable –
    Stripped naked.
    Still, none can see
    The hope of spring
    Hidden
    Deep, deep
    In her hibernating heart.

  10. of winter

    perforate my insolated heart
    with rock and stone and bits of branch
    that scratch the earthen sky
    with its insistent icy gaze
    latch yourself rock, stock and thicket,
    the budless arms of winter, skin and bone
    wrap themselves around the icier heart
    of my discontent
    cry with wonder at my lack of wonder
    this chill stream of unconscious boredom
    alive in its deathly hold
    we, together, sleep.
    where once I stood
    brazen, half alive but sure
    of my surety finding
    none but rockbed nourishment
    in place of deeper food
    but I refuse to dig.
    in this time, non-colored-
    void of spring’s lithe dance
    or summer’s lazy strolls,
    only still
    lonely, stilled,
    stillness alone.
    so be it,
    come, sweet winter
    come, bid me bid goodnight to my childish fears
    hypnotize me, embalm and embranch me
    let the stark, new life of death
    feed this wafer-thin soul.
    kiss me with frozen resurrection
    till snow becomes dew
    and we both
    ascend

      1. Yes, profound also rose in me while sitting with “of winter”. I am grateful for your gift of poetry.