Welcome to the Abbey’s Poetry Party No. 60!
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! (If you repost the photo, please make sure to include the credit link below it and link back to this post inviting others to join us).
We have started a monthly theme and in September it is silence, drawn from the first principle of the Monk Manifesto: “I commit to finding moments each day for silence and solitude, to make space for another voice to be heard, and to resist a culture of noise and constant stimulation.”
Write a poem about this commitment and desire. When you quiet all the noise, both inner and outer, what is the voice you hear?
Photo Credit: “Morning Mist” by Claudia Gregoire
Let your response to these questions emerge in a poem and share below in the comments with the Abbey community.
On Sunday, September 23, 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.
September’s theme is Silence (Abbey Resources):
47 Responses
Arising
out of morning mist
from the still small spaces between
boats along the shoreline;
no thing heard
whispering pines have hushed;
no thing felt
through the insulated plaid of my Woolrich coat;
no thing seen
bifocals only light reflecting lake.
Yet the mind pulses in its presence
like the imperceptible motion
of breathing grebes.
Sunday morning, early
I make my way though mist
to the beach
Sharp breeze tosses my hair,
cold sand between my toes –
I have never felt more alive
The waves sigh in and out
like ragged breath – no other sound
even the half-grown gulls
toddling across the sand are still
Soon the surf rises up
against my ankles – I steady myself
and let the water lap around me
Staring into the infinite,
I hear a voice – God’s? My own?
whispering, “Yes, you belong here.
Yes, this is your home.”
Come and Sit for a While
Come
Sit for a while
In the silence of your soul
Let the sunshine
Emerge from within you
Be the ray of bright light
When mist colours the days
Around you
Come
Sit with me
In the silence and
Enjoy this
Motionless presence
Of the dawn
Breaking inside
Your soul
Listen,
The most magnificent
Dialogue
Springs out of your core
Like a dervish dancing
In the fire of your heart
It is the Beloved
Whispering
His words of
Love
Deep within
Your soul
Deep within
Your heart
Come
Sit for a while
And listen
The Beloved
Is telling a tale
Of love
Come
Into this eternal
Moment
With no hellos
And no goodbyes
Just come
© Iva Beranek (Dublin, 17th September 2012)
i listen for silence,
wait for the noise of daily life to subside;
but i slowly discover
silence is not
absence,
nothingness,
a void.
silence is presence, cosmos, completion.
Hi Bo! Great to read a poem from you here! I love silence being presence, cosmos, and completion.
Trees
Whisper
Come unwind
Rest in shadow
Listen to silence
….Be
still water
gives itself
to the cool morning air
boughs heavy
bears gifts
for the earth
spirit’s breath
replenishes
my soul
(sorry about the typo…. should say boughs heave BEAR gifts…. )
Beach and boats abandoned
for the bustle of return-to-school.
Hush; be still.
Let us linger in the mist,
drink in September’s silence.
mother mouse pauses
from tending her babies
listens to the stars
as a star listener, i love this. glad to mama mouse is there with me :-)
INVITATION
I could jump in
Find the current
And go with the flow.
Or
I could sit down
Rest in the silence
And be who I am.
I love the tone of this poem. It sounds comfortable, accepting.
Love this, Deborah.
We all have choices, and taking care of oneself is the best choice. Makes us strong enough to take on all those other cares.
Bo
Mist hovers over
the lake of September calm
cooling.
Empty chair calls me
to the film
of summer’s final days.