by Eva Wyld Dandelion
I am in love with a Man,
Yet I have been saying in my mind over and over-
WHY IS HE *SO* IMPORTANT TO ME?!
Does he realize, how long I have been willing to sit?
By my computer- writing for Hours upon Hours-
Making Edits upon Edits.
Just WAITING- for HIM to realize
That I- Am Important- Too?
I spend my days,
Eyes draining, soul straining,
Trying to get these fucking words out-
And FIXING them-
OVER AND OVER- because they can ALWAYS be better.
And sometimes, I know, that you don’t even open my letters.
Baby, I don’t have OCD-
I’m just trying to repeat the words ENOUGH-
So that you can really *HEAR* me!
So you can hear the words, I specially craft to be understood within your OWN language.
I get SO FRUSTRATED!
When I come across people who aren’t as committed as I am.
We’re all striving for the SAME thing right?!
So why can’t they put in as much effort as I did?
I could attempt to learn EVERYTHING there is to know about the concept of Giving Love- and DIE before ever mastering the art of truly knowing it.
I spend every waking hour of my existence
Working to make my authentic heart available to EVERYONE and REALLY SHOWING IT!
I have devoted my life to studying
This one- single- subject.
I have what some may think of as Unrealistic Expectations,
Because I’m holding myself and others to Higher-Self Standards of Perfections.
Perfection to me-
My understanding of Perfection-
Contains beautiful flaws, over-the-top guffaws, a collection of colorful and uniquely twisted straws-
You know, the bendy kinds?
The ones that we as kids needed or else REFUSED to drink our glasses of milk unless we had that uniquely shaped straw?
THAT- is a Child’s Version- of Perfection.
Because LORD KNOWS, as stated by Mama Discipline-
She is NOT leaving this table until she drinks her milk,
And LORD KNOWS- that Wildly Rebellious Girl
Will NEVER drink her milk- Until-
She Gets. Her Bendy. Straw.
And what are the Drawbacks of aspiring to attain Pure Excellence?
The times when you get yourself locked in the swirling vortex of your own mind,
Telling yourself that you’re just wasting time-
Trying to have your VOICE in this world, but you’re just too afraid for anyone else to hear it-
Simply- because- it- isn’t- PERFECT.
I re-named myself Wyld this year,
And at the time, I didn’t think I was WILD!
I didn’t even believe it.
I just KNEW that I REALLY WANTED TO BE IT!
I wanted to WILDLY PROCLAIM my FREEDOM
And no longer be afraid of the public’s judging eyes,
OR their groaning sighs of misunderstanding-
When people want you to just STOP talking
Because they have absolutely ZERO interest
In what you’re saying or what you believe in…
Leaving you- with a foul taste in your mouth from the words you’ve choked back for years- wishing to SCREAM:
I AM WORTHY OF YOUR LOVE AND RESPECT SIMPLY *BECAUSE* I AM HUMAN!
I HAVE. THE RIGHT. TO EXIST!
We have so many useless competitions in this world,
Why are we not having never-ending challenges for:
“Let’s see who can try to love each other MORE!”
You know ACTUALLY-
This is a game that you play with your sons and daughters,
The one where they ask you: “How much do you love me?”
And you- stretch your arms out as WIIIIIDE as you POSSIBLY CAN-
Expressing: “I love you THIS MUCH!”
And your child responds back by trying to GROOOW their limbs to match your example.
It goes on for a while,
But eventually ~the game stops.
Because you both then realize in that moment
That your arms Just Aren’t Long Enough.
To really SHOW- each other how BIG the LOVE in your heart IS
To the point where you know it to be SO TRUE that you don’t HAVE to keep asking!
Maybe, I should stop reading books about love and start practicing my stretching…
Because we are NEVER going to know how much we care for each other until we start taking ACTION!
We’re all too busy with our noses pressed up against clocks,
With our brains TRAPPED in our calendars
Just trying to schedule time for survival
AND when it’s most convenient for you to show your Wife how much you appreciate her.
There somehow- never- seems- to be- enough- time.
Take your heads out of the sands of denial-
Long enough to remember that there are STILL reasons on this planet to Smile.
BECAUSE THIS WORLD HAS SO MUCH BEAUTY IN IT!
And there are people willing to spend their ENTIRE LIVES trying to WAKE YOU UP to show you it!
I would know. Because I am one of those people.
Yeah, I’ve laughed in my own mind thinking, “Oh lord, I’m someday going to be that stereotypical Hippy Girl whose MAIN mission in life becomes about getting people in a circle to sing Kumbaya.”
And I’ll ALSO probably be the first girl to mess with the lyrics and make it’s own rap version called: “Kum-by-YEYEAH!”
♪♪ All we wanna do is sing and laugh together, oh- birds of a feather- no we’ll never be apart!
Because Lord knows,
That ALL we want to do is sing and laugh TOGETHER,
And- SLEEP TOGETHER…
because we all KNOW how much SAFER we feel
With our loved one’s soft breathes soothing- us- to sleep.
Because lord knows, that all we want to do is Dance and Laugh and Cry and Pray,
Tell each other that “It’s ALL going to be OKAY!”
THAT is what you DO for your loved ones!
You GIVE THEM the reassurance they need to hear,
That you are going to BE THERE-
That you will stop at NOTHING- to BE THERE-
That you- are GOING- to stick- around.
Come hell or high water, you ASSURE your loved ones:
“I WILL BE THERE!”
♪♪ I’ll be there, I’ll be there….. Whenever you want me, I’ll be there. ♪♪
I feel that’s the only thing from each other-
We Ever Really NEED To Know.
© 2014 by Eva Wyld DandelionPosted in Poetry | Tagged Eva Wyld Dandelion | Comments Off July 19, 2014
by Daniel B. Singer
Meet me here
where smoke and light and heat and night
where trembling hands and hearts just might
Meet me here
beneath the sky, between the trees
upon the dirt, upon our knees—
where truth is told
your fear: be bold
and let me fold
in this place
face to face—
© 2014 Daniel B. SingerPosted in Poetry | Tagged Daniel B. Singer | Comments Off July 22, 2013
I had no idea
so I went to the bones,
the skulls, and the dirt;
seeking counsel from those
who had gone before me
- silence -
Perhaps, like the simple child,
I did not even know
how to ask the question –
I spoke my heart
confused and stumbling and
more than a little bit
indeed, this is why I sought their wisdom
in the First Place
- silence -
Some kind of snarky ancient master?
“The answer lies within you, Grasshopper”
telling me this
by telling me
I found a trance
I let go of as much as
I could let go
and I looked
and I stumbled
more than just a little bit awkward
I had gone within
- silence -
So I went to the trees
to the Green Ones in the cove
seeking counsel from the ones
who had seen the beginning
- silence -
In cahoots with the bones and skulls and dirt
to deny me
In the darkness, I closed my eyes
perhaps when there is naught to hear
there might be something
An emerald green light
seeped into my field of view
displacing the darkness;
I welcomed it
hoping this was the trees speaking
Eagerly, I waited.
The green light filled my sight
the sun had appeared to me
deep in the night
YES! Bring me the light!
… please …
Illuminate the way
so that I might
- I waited -
Gold gave way
to green and
back to gold again
like a child taking first steps
determined and hesitant
and falling down
Unable to walk tonight,
I laid down to sleep
perchance to dream
of green and gold
of bones and skulls and dirt
And I awoke
No clearer than the night before…
I guess I should just
go talk with her.
© 2013 by Daniel B. SingerPosted in Poetry | Tagged Daniel B. Singer | Comments Off August 31, 2012
knowing and not knowing
… whether we are the seeker or the oracle
… the priest or the parishioner
because the answer
And we are also the Temple.
a sacred and spontaneous
- of fire and breath and water and pulse and motion;
- as fleeting as it is eternal
- burning bright in the night
- and gone in the dawn;
Fluid as our blood
Solid as our bones
Transient as our breath
And eternal as our spirit.
Our heartsong is our liturgy
And in this Temple,
We are each other’s priests and priestesses
Irrevocably ordained at birth
By the simple virtue
Of being alive.
Our Service runs
until it’s done,
… be that at dawn
… or in the night
We just know
when the time is right
Then we depart
and return to our other Homes
Knowing and not knowing
… whether we were the priest or the parishioner
… the seeker or the oracle
Because the answer
And we were also the Temple.
© 2012 by Daniel B. SingerPosted in Poetry | Tagged Daniel B. Singer | Comments Off July 19, 2012
by Amanda Giles
I’ve been wanting to write me some
I’ve seen those cool cats on the TV
and thought – why can’t that be me?
I can walk and chew gum
I can pat my head and rub my tum
I ain’t dumb, but usually
the words won’t come.
Sometimes I make the time
I sit with my pencil in hand and I…
stare blankly at the wall.
I feel rushed so I try to force it out
Try to get some movement,
but my thoughts are just constipated
My mind has a vision of how
the poetry will look and sound.
It will be big
It will be profound
It will be both inspiring and self-effacing
It will be comedic and pure
In my mind, I will deliver it like the sassy urbanite
who was born knowing more than you
and who has more attitude than Doctor Who.
I will get every intonation just right
so that when I am done -
you will see the light.
You see last year here I rocked a piece,
but the words were another’s I couldn’t keep.
I promised myself then,
I was going to write some words to throw down
a poem or two I could truly call my own
And through the past year
I did scribble and scratch,
but I wasn’t pulling no rabbit from my hat
Now the night before Spiritfire
I lay in my bed
running over my lists,
crossing things off in my head.
I felt sure I had drifted -
I know that I had.
Then unbidden the thoughts came racing through
not what to pack or things to do.
I tried to tell myself – this really won’t do
Don’t you know that it’s quarter of two?!
But the muse can be fickle
and my promise was still unmet
So I climbed out of bed -
grabbed my robe and a pad
and I scribbled this poem that you have now had
And I said to myself – That wasn’t half bad
But I can’t end this poem
without throwing you a bone
Something to gnaw on
and take home for your own
So here it is…
This message is true.
if I can write it, so can you!
© 2011 Amanda GilesPosted in Poetry | Tagged Amanda Giles | Comments Off July 18, 2012
Allow your eyes to close
I will guide you.
B r e a t h e.
Walk with me
Through the forest
Over the water
Into the sky
Follow the sound of my voice
As it travels from my lips
To your heart.
L i s t e n.
Do you know where you are?
Have you been here…before?
What does it smell like?
Allow your spirit to play
Touch your face
Do you recognize the shapes of joy?
I am not going to hypnotize you
You are not getting sleepy
You are completely
A w a r e
You are ready
Have you ever felt
Larger than your body?
Y o u a r e.
You are everything you can see
You are everything you can touch
f o r m a l i t y
You are much bigger.
Have you ever noticed
That you can see things
With your eyes
C l o s e d ?
Have you ever wondered
Why this is so?
Have you ever tried
To go from here
All the way
You don’t need me
to guide you.
J u s t g o.
If you don’t know
Where you are
As long as you
L o s t.
You are… here…
If you were
To open your eyes
It would look
As before –
But you might
D i f f e r e n t l y.
Take the time
T o u n d e r s t a n d.
A c h o i c e.
When you are ready,
What is true.
© 2005 by Daniel B. SingerPosted in Poetry | Tagged Daniel B. Singer | Comments Off July 18, 2012
Place – tap – swing – split – stack
This is my moving mantra
Bump – bump – pop – crack – clatter
This is my guided meditation
Find – fill – carry – offer – accept
This is my daily practice
Share – quench – sate – drench – serve
This is my sacred journey –
“Before enlightenment, chop wood and carry water;
After enlightenment, chop wood and carry water”
What the Master did not tell me
Was that enlightenment comes
from doing exactly that.
© 2009 by Daniel B. SingerPosted in Poetry | Tagged Daniel B. Singer | Comments Off July 18, 2012
Thunder rolls by like a freight train that’s been startled.
It is heavy and loud
Like an avalanche;
But nimble and quick
The air puts on a cool, damp glove
And touches my face, knowingly.
The rain whispers to me
Something I can’t quite understand.
I know you’re there.
When my eyes close
And I teeter on the edge of consciousness
I can almost see you looking back at me,
Just beyond the lantern’s light.
You are revealed to me in stages:
In the space between the raindrops
And in the silence after the thunder-train has passed
When I think I can still hear it rumble.
No matter which way I walk,
I become closer to you with each step.
I am completely surrounded
By you, that I can not quite see.
I will come to the fire
Bright flames in the night
And dance ‘round like the sparks
As they take to flight
My own wings unlocked
I will as winged-things do,
Fly sky high enough to see
The everywhere of you.
© 2005 by Daniel B. SingerPosted in Poetry | Tagged Daniel B. Singer | Comments Off July 18, 2012
Mystery sits before me
Her face cast in shadow
By the halo of fire she wears
Pulsations from the forest heart
From the root
From The Source
From inside me and beyond me
Tear across my body
Like heat lightning
In the summer sky
I explode with light
We are Creation and Destruction
Sickness and healing
We are the divine dichotomy
We are Here. Now.
And in this moment,
We are All That Is.
© 2012 by Daniel B. SingerPosted in Poetry | Tagged Daniel B. Singer | Comments Off February 23, 2012
the hawk flew past
just as we sat to form a sister sharing of Intention for the journey
we do this periodic meeting, sharing, parting
it is our herstory – our sistory
delving deeper in small spaces than possible
talks about india, elephants, butterflies and dancing
about Yolngu, comets across a Southern Cross sky
sitting on the edge of the earth to cry the world awake
to mourn the young Yolngu men who have taken their lives that year
and we always wander in and out of the weave of our Spirit and our love
and the push and pull of the love of men
and the call to create
the calls to nest
the cries to fly in all our powers
and the hawk flies past right in front of us
where he never passes
we know it is a sign
I have pulled the hawk card twice in the past week
no crystal ball
no magic answer
but yes – magic messenger
Opening me for my next piece of journey ahead
reminder to deeply connect and trust in this animal world
which is always sending me her emissaries
to release from gravity’s pull
borrow Hawk’s perspective
Sister friend and I part once more
I drive to the mountain
of the Abode of the Message
© 2012 by Bonnie LambournPosted in Poetry | Tagged fireUrchin | Comments Off ← Older posts