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Invitation to Poetry: Shine

Welcome to the Abbey’s Poetry Party #58!

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).

In the northern hemisphere we are entering the season of summer – a time of ripeness and illumination. Write a poem this week in celebration of summer’s glories and gifts.  Let’s savor and relish the world’s fullness together through the written word.

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Monk in the World Guest Post: Michael Moore

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Wisdom Council member Michael Moore’s reflection on Sabbath and Silence. I am thankful to Christine and the Abbey community for this opportunity

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36 Responses

  1. Sometimes the wind blows so
    hard,
    To let go would surely mean
    a flight over the horizon ~

    And sometimes the breezes are so
    calm and hot,
    I’m certain we’ll melt right
    into the deck.

    But always, just often enough
    are the perfect days ~
    cool, steady wind,
    sparkling, friendly seas
    when Lady O’ lays down and
    moves through the water
    as she was meant to do ~

    This is sailing.
    cjs 7-84

  2. Summer’s Dare

    Delicious…couldn’t you just drink the blue sky?
    Adventures…down every windy dusty road.
    Refresh…why not roll on the green grass?
    Entertain…the bee the birds and your passions.
    I DARE you…
    to participate in the splendor of summer.

    gwp 6/11/2012

    1. Your writing is akin to a condensed hummingbird blossom, rich in nectar and invitation. Thank you for alerting me about this site! Bless you, Genora ~

  3. August is the cruelest month
    Not April
    My husband of forty-one years
    The theologian, the teacher
    Called from his silent thirty day retreat
    To say he was not coming home
    He planned to live on his sail boat
    Our marriage was annulled
    Yet August came again
    Offering me transformation

    Transformation

  4. mid-summer

    The smell of roses fill the air
    and Iris dance in the twilight
    of Mid-summer evening
    Children race through
    the meadow, rings of daisy’s
    crown their heads
    Creator smiles
    blows blessing on the wind
    bringing forgetfulness
    of winter past

    Ruth Jewell ©June 2012

  5. Looking Out

    Tide is out.
    I stand on beach expanse
    Looking out to sea.
    Pelicans shine over water
    Knowing what’s below
    Waters fraught with fish
    Or not.

    Behind me, unnoticed
    Is the wall of what I know,
    Mysteries taken for granted,
    Volumes of substance experienced and not.
    It may as well not exist.
    At this time
    I’m looking out to sea.

  6. The Port of My Call

    When did I learn that light
    fills my sails with warmth?

    When did I learn that turning
    makes the wind my ally?

    and when did I learn to trust
    without a compass?

  7. The heavy laden urban air cries out for
    cleansing…so it can once again bathe in the summer sun

    while the distracted dwellers below cannot breathe
    and cry out for cancer cures

    for they have forgotten the summer sun
    and how it shines.

  8. Season of Proclamation

    From the silence of winter’s contemplation,
    Through the whisper of spring’s awareness,
    Bursts the shout of summer:
    Bloom!
    Flourish!
    Shine!
    Proclaim!

  9. I’ve just opened my journal, and…

    I have no idea what I’m going to write,
    but the morning air is fresh and cold
    like the inside of our old refrigerator was, when,
    as a child, I opened its door in summer, sometimes
    finding an egg custard pie, sprinkled with nutmeg,
    and as I ate and licked my fingers, how cool
    it felt to my lips, throat and tummy,
    and my feet were cool on the linoleum floor,
    and I felt a fan blowing through the kitchen,
    sucking a breeze through the screen door,
    where the night before a luna moth hung
    trembling. Well, I can’t bring it all back,
    but this moment, I remember my mother with love.

  10. Jesus rising shining my face
    Jesus filling the air.
    Jesus leading me into the mountains,
    Holding me safely there.