Welcome to the Abbey’s Poetry Party #59!
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).
As I settle into my new life here in Vienna, I am aware that August for many shops, is a time to close up and go off on vacation. Not being obsessed here with the American quest for continual productivity and availability, I have found the many signs in store windows indicating they are closed for holiday to be refreshing.
Every season has its invitation. Summer asks us to contemplate what the spaciousness of blue skies and the long opening of daylight is calling our hearts to consider? As we grow closer to autumn’s harvest, what are the fruits of summer you still want to savor? What is ripening in you? What sweetness is asking you to give your whole heart to it? Let your response to these questions emerge in a poem and share below with the Abbey community.
On Friday, August 10, I will select one name at random from the submissions and the winner receives a free copy of my upcoming book Desert Mothers and Fathers: Early Christian Wisdom Sayings — Annotated & Explained straight from SkyLight Paths when it is released later this month.
If you are looking ahead to fall for an online opportunity to listen more closely to your own threshold calling, join us for Women on the Threshold. Or if you want to nourish your inner monk and artist, consider Way of the Monk, Path of the Artist. Both experiences are 12 weeks long; both promise lots of transformative possibility . . .
49 Responses
Beyond Marble Pillars
There is a whole wide sky
bigger than dreams
deeper than Grandma’s feather bed
waiting, for you to fling wide
your arms and fall, free
and wild into unknown
horizons where life
is waiting
no demanding schedules
endless possibilities
unabashed time with friends
and
there is wine
:)
Through my dreams my soul is woven
Exquisite in design
Tangled threads of life are seeking
Out a path where I can find
A space to house my spirit
And give for to my dreams
Where finally this dreamer
Can dance upon the wind
into the blue sky–
past thresholds of fear and doubt
my spirit ascends
Regarding Karen
This summer, visiting my friend,
I coveted
lace tablecloths she used as curtains
antique radio cabinet covered with plants,
the way she sprinkled tiny vases
of flowers throughout the house
gracing bureaus in every bedroom
perfuming the bath
centering the table where we ate crumbcake
and homemade jam for my birthday breakfast.
In the yard an ancient swing of rope-and-board
set my city daughter soaring.
Dented metal chairs in the cutting garden,
so like the one my Grampa sunned in,
swung me back to him and home,
while soft talk of friendship
warmed us and I yearned
to adopt
her grace-filled, gentle way of being.
I so love these lines…
“Dented metal chairs in the cutting garden,
so like the one my Grampa sunned in,
swung me back to him and home,
while soft talk of friendship
warmed us and I yearned…”
So wonderful. I can see it and feel it.
It’s Summer, And It’s Only Just Turned Spring
People come and people go.
Outside away the winter blows
and all around
are people unaware.
They don’t see and they don’t say
and they’re too busy anyway.
They’re missing out,
maybe they don’t care.
But some of us have been where
there’s a chance to see the world
a little clearer…
I see a little clearer now…
As I rise, picassoed skies,
speckled with the purple breath
of the sun,
moves me deeply.
Fragrances the new day brings,
carried on the silent wings
of zephyrs,
come to greet me.
And with my spirit full, I turn to
face my life and take it off
its hinges…
I’ll let my spirit soar…
You know it’s summer
and it’s only just turned spring,
Yes it’s summer
and it’s only just turned spring.
I just lost my face
to a stranger in a great big crowd.
She looked at me
and took my face away.
Met an angel in a bar,
bet that I could make her laugh.
She took my bet,
and her halo slipped away.
Tried to cadge a cigarette off her
sister she turned me down.
But that’s ok…
I don’t smoke anyway…
You know it’s summer
and it’s only just turned spring,
Yes it’s summer
and it’s only just turned spring.
love “picassoed skies” and the image of taking your life off its hinges :)
Could it be
time has come,
my calling seen
my waiting, done.
Standing patient
be believed,
fidgeting at Door
called, once more.
Hold this chalice
Break this bread,
Sign the Cross
Bless this head.
The flower blooms
the garden ripens,
days grow shorter
the nights, lengthen.
Stay the course
Keep my temper,
Listen keenly
Give up, never.
Beautiful.
Mmm, that middle most stanza. Wonderful!
thresholds
ordinary time
tail waving the kite escapes
behold the summer
shimmering daylight
backyard butterfly traffic
caterpillars soon
fragrance blossoming
sweet roadside honeysuckle
aroma tickles
afternoon picnic
savoring watermelon
tastes like a poem
These are all lovely, but the last is my favorite!
Me too :) Although I continue to ‘tweak’ the others. ….thanks.
Mid-Summer
August, full of hazy smog,
holds its breath,
heavy blossom scent
hangs in the airless air,
leaning on my chest.
I escape for a week
to the cool Catskills,
flush with sky blue
and deep green woods,
I breathe mountain air.
When I return
I find the garden
worked overtime
in the thick August heat
while I hiked foot hills.
Garden bounty on display,
bonanza of beans,
plethora of peppers,
basket full of basil.
I barely breathe,
waiting for the front
to storm across the island
and rinse away sultry air.
I search the sky for mountain blue
knowing it will return
to the coast,
filling me with gratitude
for summer joys.
A midsummer sigh
August exhales
my soul expands.
Beautiful–love that last stanza!
Thank you! Sometimes a poem is hovering near the edge of consciousness and a prompt brings it to the surface. In this case, the blue sky in the photo did that for me.
Late Summer Sabbath
The sun burns and the heat wilts, while shade and cool water call my name.
The bumble-bee, looking improbably fat and fuzzy, tumbles by dusted with pollen.
I am melting thru the cords of the hammock, finally at rest.
Fall, with the gathering and harvesting will come soon but today I revel in the good news that I’m neither a mad dog nor an English man.
It is good.