poetrybyheart.me

Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte

Haiku: RX For An Introvert

Holidays over
Return of reality
Time for stock-taking

People-filled moments
Exciting rich nourishment
Stuffed me to bursting

Moorings abandoned
Flying carpet crash-landed
Lost touch with myself

Crave balm of silence
Time for quiet introspection
Awaiting my words

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Haiku: Un-Frenzied

Time to take a break
Income tax and travel done
Day belongs to me

Sinking into peace
Precious gift a golden glow
Living in the now

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Haiku: Good Morning, Wednesday

Candle light flickers
Empty coffee cup still warm
Meditation done

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Haiku: Winter Solitude

Rich days to prepare
Hustle bustle, shop and cook
Join in festive meal

Christmas now is past
Gift to savor candle light
Settle into calm

Written in response to daily prompt Retreat

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Passing Strangers

On a sunny day in Mexico
Sitting on a high stool at a high table
Eating a delicious morsel, savoring solitude
I noticed a man walking toward me
Vintage-aged and lost in thought.

Lazily I noted his white t-shirt
Imprinted with an Indian in a feathered head-dress
Cleveland I immediately concluded
Then corrected myself
Chicago Black Hawks! Aha! I was a hockey mom.

The gentleman passed by
I spoke quietly “Go Black Hawks”
He looked at me, blue eyes now focused
Responding in kind, “Go Black Hawks”
He smiled, said “Thank you” and moved on.

The sunny day in Mexico
A beam of human interaction
Warmed my soul I feel it still.
I pray our fractured world
Will be surprised to recognize such commonality.

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Haiku: Sound Interpretations

Silence place I choose
Window open wide to world
Transports mind and heart.

Absent friendly noise
Hall outside apartment door
Quiet becomes a cage.

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Haiku: Energy Replacement

Clock ticks, candle burns
I sit in my chair to pray
God’s grace fills my soul.

Batteries for clock
Extra candles on the shelf
God’s love fuels me.

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Chronicle of Solitude

I was born a Southern girl
Into a story-telling culture.
A budding Southern woman
Meeting expectations of the times.
I excelled at both.

But something more lurked beneath that child
True to myself and unknown.
My parents told me there were times
I turned my little rocking chair
To face the wall. Mama said “Leave her there.”

Did something peek beyond compliant self?
There must have been a hint of poetry to come
From solitude that is my homeland
And my second mother – recognized by Mama’s loving heart.
Who did entrust me to my future gift.

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