Love this so much 🤍 love that Emily Dickinson quote, love how you've used it and crafted your poem from it "because all I needed to do was stop moving" 🤍
I love this A. What a notiuon, "out with lanterns looking for myself." That resonates. "Because all I needed/was to stop moving/to listen/to come home/to myself. Such a lovely poem. Welcome home!
This is lovely, Nancy. In church this morning we spoke of a love that is new every morning, that will not leave us comfortless, that will wipe away our tears…Your poem resonates so dearly with me today.
This is an exceptional poem, Kate. It is moving and tender even as it speaks up the tumult of the times. “ To hear the missing voices/the irreplaceable notes/of the ones who have departed/the earth.” Incredible articulation of emotional depth. And “as though extinction/were always an invitation/to listen, achingly, for the parts/of our own hearts l/gone missing.” This takes my breath away.
THis is beauitfullty piut, Sarah. I really love "But still,/Something of that/Crept in from somewhere./Sacred pause./Reframe./A half is whole,/In its own way.""
This is incredibly lovely. I know you will keep listening.
The haiku has been a helpful format to stay as consistent as I can. Writing in this way helps me to sit with the word, and distill my thinking and connection to it. Thank you, as always, Larry!
But then I stop. Is this sound of my life less than what I hear outside? The birds, the breeze?
Certainly more pleasant on a Sunday morning. And yet, listening to the whirring I think how nice it will be to have clean towels. How thankful I am to not have to go to the laundry mat anymore. How I have access to water to wash my clothes even, in my home.
I continue to pause, to listen, to the hum of my refrigerator, to the mechanical whirring of the washer, to the sounds of my home.
And I’m thankful for having all this and for the time to be still this morning, drinking my tea, eating my breakfast and listening to my home.
This is splendid, Jane. A wonderful tribute to the sounds of our lives, nature, human and machine made. I like how you give space to those noises that we can treat as discordant or upsetting, turning them into the sounds we hear that make our lives our lives.
This is so nice, Korie. Perceptive. open and emathetic, a listening ear in the form of a poem.
" Honoring fears,/Troubles, and doubts/That otherwise,/Remaining unspoken,/Would have weakened/The one seeking/Simply to be heard. What a gift your poetry is.
This is beautiful, Margaret. Your poem is so compassionate, filled with wisdom and love, depicting in such a lovely way the gift of presence, and being there for another. I am so glad you are here!
Thank you for this prompt, Kaitlin, and the wonderful and beautiful poem. The poem hit me like a dart. I recognized that person, and felt it deep in my heart, I am still waiting to fully meet myself, Being a part of the LJ and these groups is helpng!
Emily Dickinson said,
"I am out with lanterns,
looking for myself" --
a joke, actually,
not even a poem,
but still,
a poem.
She was writing to a friend
about moving. I have felt
in transit for most of my life,
out with lanterns,
searching for me,
for some unknown thing
that would complete my life.
It's funny, actually,
because all I needed
was to stop moving,
to listen,
to come home
to myself.
Love this so much 🤍 love that Emily Dickinson quote, love how you've used it and crafted your poem from it "because all I needed to do was stop moving" 🤍
I love this A. What a notiuon, "out with lanterns looking for myself." That resonates. "Because all I needed/was to stop moving/to listen/to come home/to myself. Such a lovely poem. Welcome home!
Resonate with this and love this quote by Dickinson.
To hear is not to listen
And these days I hear too much
My ears shutter from
Nonstop bombardment
The battle crying nationalism
Calling for banishment, retribution
I want to close my ears
Shut down all my senses
Avoid the noises I
Wish not to acknowledge
And yet
I know there is more
Beneath the din of anger and fear
I get quiet, I get away—
if only my mind—
To take in
What lies beneath the noise
Within the heart
Of our embattled land
The call of geese on the water
Slapping the rocky shoreline
The laughter of children
On a bouncing trampoline
A dog’s distant bark
Choruses upon choruses of birds
All singing, all saying
Stop. Listen.
We are here for you, too.
I love the shift from outward listening to drawing inward, stilling the noise to listen with your heart.❤️
This is so dynamic, Rachel, lays out in a beautiful way how so many feel right now. The second stanza is infused with hope! Thank you!
Listen…
Listen not with your ears…
but with your heart.
Listen…
What am I listening for?
Listen…
open your heart to really hear,
I will not leave you comfortless…
Listen and you shall see
wonders unfold.
Trusting in a whispered, “listen,”
in the dark of night and dreams.
I wait...
This is lovely, Nancy. In church this morning we spoke of a love that is new every morning, that will not leave us comfortless, that will wipe away our tears…Your poem resonates so dearly with me today.
Listen
Come sit with me
By this open window
On this hazy May morning,
And listen.
Hear the call of a mourning dove,
The twitters of unseen birds,
Coming from all directions.
There’s a loud noise that I can’t quite place,
Like a door squeaking on its hinges – some kind of frog?
Far off a crow calls, and another answers.
Each time I think that silence has returned,
Another chirp, or call, or twitter greets the day.
More to listen to.
I felt drawn right into the poem with your invitation to come sit with you 💗
Wonderful Karen! What a lovely poem to match the animal snd earth sounds and songs you describe.
in haunting silence
we wait,
as though now living
in the margins
of a beautiful, crumbling world,
our bodies still wait in anguish
and unceasing hope
to hear the missing voices,
the irreplaceable notes,
of the ones who have departed
this Earth,
as though extinction
were always an invitation
to listen, achingly, for the parts
of our own hearts
gone missing.
Love the depth, implication, and message of these words!
My poems are clearly getting more and more apocalyptic as the month goes on 😂 this practice is obviously pulling a deeper truth through me.
Keep going!
Those last lines! Beautiful.
This is an exceptional poem, Kate. It is moving and tender even as it speaks up the tumult of the times. “ To hear the missing voices/the irreplaceable notes/of the ones who have departed/the earth.” Incredible articulation of emotional depth. And “as though extinction/were always an invitation/to listen, achingly, for the parts/of our own hearts l/gone missing.” This takes my breath away.
listen
Listen in the still quiet
In an empty house
Not to its own subtle sounds
Or the occasional noise from outside
Listen to the still quiet
Of the empty day
Of life and the subtle turns
it took along the way
Listen for the still quiet
When an emptied mind
Creates a subtle opening
For meaning to transcend thought
Listen by the still quiet
Which emptied of judgement
Allows the subtle truth
That will bring you peace
This is so sweet, Joe. A wonderful witness to listening.
Listen
I was there right a the start of you
I grew and became louder as you grew
The voice within you.
Sometimes I was harsh
Putting you down,
Critical - telling you all the things you couldn't do.
Sometimes I was kind and encouraging
Often you didn't listen,
Didn't trust me.
Looked outward
To all the other voices
For their thoughts and opinions.
Trusting their voices
To guide you.
But I know you
Better than anyone else could ever
Know you.
Don't dismiss me
And keep pushing me down.
Are you ready to start listening,
To start trusting and following,
To speak up and out,
All that is within?
Yes! You voice a common journey so beautifully!
Oh Claire! Like Rachel said, this resonates. ❤️
I really resonate with this, Claire. ❤️
This is so real, piercing and honest, Claire. A poem of truth, I feel. Very nice work!
Thank you 🤍
I have been trying
To heed the call here
To come as I am -
To come as I can.
I wasn't raised
In the militant tradition -
'We don't do things
By halves in this family' -
But still,
Something of that
Crept in from somewhere.
Sacred pause.
Reframe.
A half is whole,
In its own way.
So as I travel and work
To contribute
To my family's earnings -
To learn, and grow -
To listen (yes!
A big part of my work
Is to listen!) -
To witness -
I know I am
Wholly taking part
In this venture.
Listening for my limits and
Heeding my heart.
THis is beauitfullty piut, Sarah. I really love "But still,/Something of that/Crept in from somewhere./Sacred pause./Reframe./A half is whole,/In its own way.""
This is incredibly lovely. I know you will keep listening.
Thank you kindly Larry - one way or another, I will 💜
I ran to the Woods today,
Angry, mind full.
The Heron stopped me,
Standing in my path
"Listen" she said,
"Take it slow."
I continued, mind full.
On my way back,
She stood in my path again.
"Listen, take it slow.
She then flew away, satisfied.
And the hummingird
Added his agreement.
I continued, mindful.
Yes ♥️♥️♥️
Day #18 Listen
Attune to the sound
of this wave-like dwelling place,
hear the star dust fall.
I love your short poems, Christian. You help me hear the star dust fall.
The haiku has been a helpful format to stay as consistent as I can. Writing in this way helps me to sit with the word, and distill my thinking and connection to it. Thank you, as always, Larry!
I like your description of your process. Make great sense! Thank you!
Listen.
Hearing the washer running
I make to move outside to hear
the birds, the breeze, the outside world.
But then I stop. Is this sound of my life less than what I hear outside? The birds, the breeze?
Certainly more pleasant on a Sunday morning. And yet, listening to the whirring I think how nice it will be to have clean towels. How thankful I am to not have to go to the laundry mat anymore. How I have access to water to wash my clothes even, in my home.
I continue to pause, to listen, to the hum of my refrigerator, to the mechanical whirring of the washer, to the sounds of my home.
And I’m thankful for having all this and for the time to be still this morning, drinking my tea, eating my breakfast and listening to my home.
This is splendid, Jane. A wonderful tribute to the sounds of our lives, nature, human and machine made. I like how you give space to those noises that we can treat as discordant or upsetting, turning them into the sounds we hear that make our lives our lives.
Thank you for this feedback Larry! 😊
Listening is a gift
That we present
To those who speak
(Often without filter),
For in the hearing
Muscles of understanding
Are stretched,
Strengthened,
Grown into arms
For reaching others,
Honoring fears,
Troubles, and doubts
That otherwise,
Remaining unspoken,
Would have weakened
The one seeking
Simply to be heard.
This is so nice, Korie. Perceptive. open and emathetic, a listening ear in the form of a poem.
" Honoring fears,/Troubles, and doubts/That otherwise,/Remaining unspoken,/Would have weakened/The one seeking/Simply to be heard. What a gift your poetry is.
♥️🙏🏼
The sounds of her needs are threaded into
The chatter of the wounded world
Her heart bleeds
And so mine bleeds for her
Her muffled sobs behind closed doors
My muted footsteps giving her some space
She has come so I can listen
For the signs of hope with her
That each day she will see herself again.
—
I’ve learned to listen well
To hold another’s pain
To stay advice when presence is the gift
__
An invitation comes to give myself this gift
To listen for the words that come each day
The messages they evoke
From wellsprings often left untapped
But filled with words they need to say.
__
I’m here to listen now, my friend
Your pain, your dreams, your all
each utterance of unspoken need
Scribbled on crumpled notes
Tucked into the wailing wall inside your chest
I pluck them out, each one a prayer
Of liberty
Of love
Of peace.
This is beautiful, Margaret. Your poem is so compassionate, filled with wisdom and love, depicting in such a lovely way the gift of presence, and being there for another. I am so glad you are here!
Thank you, Larry. I’m so grateful to be here. Just realizing in rereading what I wrote, that it’s so clear that the last stanza is to myself.
So Nice!
Listen
I'm afraid I learned to listen
rather late
I used to think I listened well
I paid attention in class
Took note of things friends and family said
But when it really mattered
I was so quick to speak
too ready to fill the space
to offer an opinion
to voice the plan
...
and then
...
After everything that happened
I learned to listen
I pause to pay attention
I observe and truly take note
I notice
I nod
I might smile or ask or encourage
but mostly
I listen
for I have learned
Silence can be the strongest word
Thank you for this prompt, Kaitlin, and the wonderful and beautiful poem. The poem hit me like a dart. I recognized that person, and felt it deep in my heart, I am still waiting to fully meet myself, Being a part of the LJ and these groups is helpng!
Listen.
Easier said than done.
Amen, Chuck! I hear you!