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Invitation to Poetry: Call to Newness

Disibodenberg

Welcome to Poetry Party #70!

button-poetryI 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 or join our Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group and post there.

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 began this month with a Community Lectio Divina practice and followed up with our Photo Party on the theme of “Call to Newness.” (You are most welcome to still participate).  We continue this theme in our Poetry Party this month.

The photo above was received by me this past week at Disibodenberg, the beautiful monastic ruins in Germany where Hildegard of Bingen spent the first half of her life as a Benedictine.  This place formed her for all that was to come in her life. I love doorways and thresholds and how they beckon us to something new. You are invited to share a poem about the call to newness in your own life.  What thresholds are shimmering?

You can post your poem either in the comment section below*or you can join our Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group (with close to 600 members!) and post there.

*Note: If this is your first time posting, or includes a link, your comment will need to be moderated before it appears. This is to prevent spam and should be approved within 24 hours.

You can see the fall calendar of invitations here>>

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59 Responses

  1. I waited until going on retreat this past week to sit down with this prompt…

    O Ancient of Days —
    the breeze blusters,
    chill and cleansing,
    through my gilt hair,
    through my heart,
    chasing after me
    through a new threshold
    of seeing Judaism
    in the heart of Christ,
    of seeking God
    in the heard of Judaism.

  2. call to newness

    walk softly
    through the portal
    open to receive
    in bare feet
    dance within the ancient walls
    lie on mother earth
    listen
    let the epiphany
    arise in your heart

  3. Conversation of Stones within Monastery Ruins by Susan Gabriel
    -–—––—————–
    Cornerstone: I remember the quietude here
    Hushed chanting
    Candle flicker
    Thick incense

    Small Stone: But once the roof fell, our life changed. We could see heaven.
    Clouds and stars amazed us. Birds built nests in our mortar and we became midwives.
    All manner of green became our carpet and flower vines became tapestries.
    We heard the songs of wind and learned the language of owls and wolves.

    Cornerstone: But the idea! A sacred place without a roof.

    Small Stone: Yes, no longer sacred. Now divine.

  4. Cathedral in the Cloud Forest

    The ficus sends her tendrils down
    searching for sustenance
    into the fecund and fertile earth;
    into the clay that formed Eve.
    Then rising up in the light
    she reaches, interweaving, interconnected.
    Again and again
    she goes back to the earth
    Her roots now strong,
    drawing life and love
    into her Cathedral.

  5. okay submitting this with out rewriting as so tired with all this fun in Ireland, so here is my thresholds..

    Wind swept long grass bends and swirls showing me the way to be.
    It does not get greener then this, County Clare Ireland.
    Having arrived with my heart and eyes opened, all fell into place.
    Magic moments indeed, just keep happening. Flow.

    St Brigid’s well covered in faces, past and present, send messages to those who enter.
    I dip my hands into the sacred water and anoint myself.
    Climbing the stairs up to the gravesites I hear a man holler.
    Divine guidance led us to this place, for him, an elderly gentleman had fallen in, stuck.
    I had lingered long enough, mesmerized by the colorful clothed trees draping above the
    Wells opening and now below he was baptized and saved, I hugged him so. Attend.

    Later, Doolin cave called me into her depths and I paid attention to my own needs of slowing down
    One step in front of the other, arriving into the unknown made known by this expedition. Gentle.

    A castle loomed in front of me and as the wedding couple descended
    We ascended, camera clicking, around and around
    A helix within the slate rock tower.
    Descending down my body says this is enough for now,
    Patiently they wait for my tremors to cease. Accept.

    A path in front of me and I fly free with the hawks who land on and off of me,
    Over and over again they swiftly fly and one returns with a captured bird to eat and I watch
    The contrast of reality and soon we are returned to our confines. Imagine.

    Night is approaching fast and warm seafood chowder, surely the best ever
    Consumed at a roadside pub, “Monks” and in the haze across the bay, Galway blinks. Nurture.

    Into the car, this day’s journey ends, a rainbow appears telling me
    There is always more, seen and unseen showing me the way to be.
    And I knew that today’s beautiful serendipities plans had all been in God’s hands. Be.

  6. Newsense

    Together they stood on the threshold.
    The young one said ‘ I see an Abbey, decayed.’
    The old one looked and imagined the promise of a space repurposed.

    The young one drew away from the damp odor infusing the space.
    The old one stepped closer inhaling the green of new grass.

    The young one heard only the whirling wind.
    In stillness the old one listened to the ancient echoing chants.

    Crossing the threshold, the young one reached out, touching the craggy remains, naming them ruins.
    The old one followed, caressing her skin deep with wrinkled crevices, anticipating the yet-to-be holy moments on her horizon.

    The young one, impatient now from time in the sun, hungered.
    The old one paused, smiling as she beckoned, ‘Taste and see God’s creation is good, manna for the spirit, making all things new.’

  7. What truths within these walls remain?
    Each stone a silent prayer.
    The imprint of a soul’s desire
    Forever lingers there.

    What hopes are buried in the earth
    Beneath the mossy green?
    Each footprint left its signature
    And energy unseen.

    What invitation beckons us
    Through entrance arched in stone?
    It calls to all humanity
    Yet we must pass through alone.

    The vision we behold
    Is of a sacred place.
    Now looking deep within
    We see our holy face.