Cousins

Doolin, County Clare, Ireland

This poem was written in response to a prompt in How to Write Poetry: A Guided Journal with Prompts to Ignite Your Imagination related to imagery. The recommendation was to make a list of images conveying grief, anger and love ( I added delight since that is what I happened to be feeling a the time), and then exploring what they have in common.

Cousins
 
I grieve
with a deep ache
a longing for something lost;
I hold an emptiness
as thick as a 500-year old tree.
 
I delight
with a child’s joy
a spontaneous spirit;
an unbound energy
as light as the free-flowing air we breathe.
 
I anger
filled with fear
a disconnect with my Self;
an instant reaction
as sharp as the blade of the kitchen knife.
 
I love
my heart wide open
a need to touch something true;
feeling for solid ground
as real as the earth below my two feet.
 
In life’s vast field,
grief and delight, anger and love
play like cousins
in the grass of spring.

This poem is part of an online collection I call Meditative Blossoms.

Fanore

Fanore, County Clare, Ireland

Another poem written to a prompt provided in How to Write Poetry: A Guided Journal with Prompts to Ignite Your Imagination. On the technique of imagery, the prompt guided me to imagine a vivid physical setting from somewhere that I’ve traveled, focus on specific imagery from the scene, and transport the reader to that place.

Fanore
 
The long grass slumbers,
a field of feathery green;
succumbed long ago
to the wild winds off
the Atlantic sea.
 
A jumble of old fence,
worn wood posts and crooked cable,
finished blocking
the seekers from this
soul sanctuary.
 
Where the earth rises
to a crest, an alter high,
the view opens;
her arms spread so wide,
inviting you in.
 
The breathless blue sky
dips to meet the deep dark sea.
A mystery -
their infinite play
to the horizon.
 
Waves crash and collide
speaking to the stony shore.
Salty mist moist;
the hair on your skin
quivers with its touch.

This poem is part of an online collection I call Little Morsels of Delight.

not knowing

Ireland, Ring of Kerry, near Killorgin

Not Knowing
By John O’Donohue

how would it be to allow for knowing
and not knowing:
allowing room
for the mystery
of creating
to be able to wonder
softly
without needing to understand everything
to trust in the process
to trust in love
to trust in the mystery and wonder
of the universe
that beats softly wildly
true
all round about us,
that is hidden
in the mists
in the clouds and the rain
in the wind blowing and the rain lashing down on your window,
reminding you
poetically
prosaically
that this is where you are,
on the island,
at the edge,
in a place of finding
and refinding,
and remembering
to remember
the feel of the mist, wind and rain.

I first discovered this wonderful poem on Radiating Blossom and found it to be an invitation to open to not knowing, to allow space for mystery, and to feel what’s present in the moment.