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
* called *
Called
to
the still –
Called
to
the quiet –
By
a
unknown thought –
To
a
unknown place –
By
a
unknown heart –
To
a
unknown mystery –
Still, in One Peace
Fitting is it not that matters mounting,
with mystifying weight, find smaller place
and quieter voice beside waters of one’s heart, stilled?
Edges blunt as catalysts osmose, and color replaces frightened
monochromatic moods, all oozing
together in the panacea of grace.
I catch my breath long enough to taste air,
long forgotten and let the taste of quiet
fill my longing lungs with life, raw and real.
Here, there are no answers,
only better questions; hints of high above
where life grows smaller but clear, unified.
Lastly, I stretch legs, weary from
longer strides than meant for.
Here I am, still, in one peace.
For Silence
I long for that place, that chair,
that hovering mist in which
I could collect myself,
break free from my day’s chaos
and ground myself once again
in the One who is the ground of
my being.
I yearn for that place, that Adirondack chair,
that shimmering lake, that silence
where my racing mind could settle,
drop its defenses, its posturing,
its constant streams of voices
disposing me to this or that,
and be eternal.
I have a place, a chair, the air,
the sun and sky and all I really
need to stop, collect, to settle
and let go of all activity and noise
without,
within.
God waits.
Ann Wren Howard September 2012
Yes, Ann, yes.
Beautiful picture! Here is my very rough draft:
Silence
Is sometimes golden
or so I hear.
Today it only brings me
the parry and thrust
of endless inner voices
Taunting.
To do lists,
Appointments
Visits
I should make
Conflicts I want to avoid
Life.
Still,
when the rare moment comes
and all is hushed
within and without,
there is forgetfulness
and peace –
And blessed nothing.
To do,
To say,
To hope
To feel,
To repress,
or address.
Just me
and the silver of quiet.
©2012 Mikaela D’Eigh
Empty chair beckons
Morning quiet fills the air
Old dog sleeps.
Longing
Inward
Eye on my soul,
I sit with you.
No need for words.
Only ….
I come early
longingly
seeking
I find You
&
You find me
as…
fish splash
water laps
fog lingers
leaves rustle
sand crunches
My lungs fill
my heart swells
gratitude & life
It is this place
Where I shed my several skins
All my ways of being in the world
I lay down all my weapons
Give up my defenses
And rest.
It is this hour
Earth still warm from God’s embrace
I breathe myself into eternity
My heart breaks open wide
And all my truths
Confessed.
Amongst crowds pushing forward with frantic needs
I ordered a coffee the other day
Tall caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso
Through the din simply spoken, fully expecting exact service
Not loud, not threatening, no anxiety just a simple smile and word
Is this how you spoke the world into being?
Whispering softly to your collective magnificent self?
Simply spoken, fully expecting your request to be filled?
Let there be light and snap, a switch is flicked and it was light
Warm, sweet satisfying light
Saccharin platitudes of the soft bellied liberal
Harsh angry tones of the hardened conservative
Two masks on the same schizophrenic monkey
Vacillating between loud screams and quiet sobs
Masks of wisdom-hiding the lack of deep thought,
Is this how you spoke your plans to the pillars of faith?
Mealy mouthed words or screams at the top of your holy lungs?
From the tiny bush, around the familial meal, the quiet night vision
Father to favored child, friend speaks to close friend-
the communion happens-Warm, sweet and satisfying
Talking heads excitedly declare the news of the day
Small and great wrapped up neatly into pabulum sound-bites
Of equal size and weight, significant only if entertaining
Paris dances while wars rage, floodwaters rise and squirrels water-ski
The direction driven by base fear and simple pleasures
Is this the voice that surrounded the young girl in Judea?
You spoke gently, the spirit moved and the Word was made flesh
The Seed germinated in the soil of man to bring the healing fruit
The answer to all the questions that churn in the depth of our being
A tiny candle ignites a great darkness warm, sweet and satisfying
Pulling at the flesh of a not-quite-living-existence, the dark vultures
Activity, Noise and Pleasure feed on what they can, ruin the rest
The air is stale the food is cold, the rooms filled with broken toys
Words fail to remedy, no longer distracting enough to fill even a shallow well
Nothing satisfies, nothing lasts through the night
Come gentle voice speak again as you have done so long ago
Whisper your perfect words in my inner ear that my soul longs to absorb
Plant the seeds of your living will in my heart and take deep root there
Let your desires overwhelm the monkey screams of modern life
Speak your light again into being, into my being, warm, sweet and satisfying
Wow! That blows me away! One sentence among so many that speak loudly to me is “…dark vultures Activity, Noise and Pleasure feed on what they can, ruin the rest.”
“Plant the seeds of your living will…” is a prayer I will remember.
All this background noise you write of is keeping me awake at night. Yes!! Holy Spirit plant the seeds of your living will in my heart, whisper your perfect words into my inner ear and help me breathe through you! Well written!
The Beginning
It was the day
she discovered wildflowers
woven into her wicker chair,
and there were swans.
She spread her golden
lap robe of sorrows
softly around herself,
cries for healing
a slender thread
sewing her to this
fragile moment,
mended in the silence
of the lake.
This is so beautiful, Evelyn.
Lovely. Very visual.