White satin flowers
Azure summer sky
Gone for now
No need to cry
Wispful thinking
Maddening dreams of hope
November morning
Life’s unending scope
Seasons change
One to another
Watch your window
Thank Earth Mother
Faint gray-white clouds
Paintbrush sky
Leaveless trees
Oh my my
Easy going Sunday morn
Nothing to be done
Take it easy
Walk don’t run
Sometimes no words are needed
To say what the heart feels
Sometimes the words simply aren’t there
Perhaps they never were, never will be
At times like these
We can only share what we feel
Through a quiet hug, a knowing smile
A hand’s gentle touch
They’re never easy–
Fragile moments like this
Ever so beautiful flowers
Waving in a summer breeze
It’s hard saying goodbye
To the golden orange sun at sunset
Or the full moon casting shadows
On fresh fallen snow
And when we feel the melody so deeply
There are always tears
Those reminding us
It can never last
Here is a poem I performed back in September. I have posted the poem with the prompts (found in caps and parentheses) I used in its reading so you can see how I approached the poem on stage.
Prefer to listen to me read this poem? Click here.
(GAZE OFF & EARNEST TONE)
Each moment, a piece of it all
A fragment, flash on the screen, an echo
An engagement of our most sacred being
If we REMEMBER, something reminding us
Who we are, who we’ve become
IN BETWEEN good looks in the mirror (PAUSE)
(SHIFT: SHAKE HEAD & SERIOUS) Growing up, I NEVER liked my hair
Too thick, too curly
Not flat and combable like my friends
(EMPHASIS & LOUDER, PAUSE, SHOCKED FACE) NOW LOOK AT ME!
Silver-white hair
Too thin
My Dad’s BALD spot at the back of my head
(SLOWER) Now I wish I had thick curly hair (PAUSE)
(SHIFT NORMAL VOICE My annual physical is next week
I’m not looking forward to it
Ten pounds heavier than last year
THOUGH I’ve been on a diet ALL year
Well, not the one those CLINIC doctors put me on (PAUSE)
(EMPHATICLY) Mine instead
Much easier, FAR more satisfying (PAUSE)
An extra dollop or two of mashed potatoes
Ice cream once a week
REAL ice cream
Not that low-fat stuff tasting like frozen wallpaper paste (PAUSE)
(SHIFT) This year they stick that tube with the flashlight up my BEE-hind
(EMPHATICALLY & SHAKE HEAD) Why would anyone want to be a proctologist? (PAUSE)
Don’t get me wrong (PAUSE)
The world needs butt doctors
BESIDES it pays well
But too bad they can’t fix the OTHER type of ASSHOLE
Like Joe Camel, (PAUSE) who flicked his cigarette butt out his pickup truck window
That NEARLY hit the hood of my new Lexus (PAUSE)
(DISGUSTED & SHAKE HEAD) Why don’t smokers put their stink sticks out in their car ash trays?
Every car comes equipped with one (PAUSE)
At times like that
I try to remind myself of what my guru, Swami Kund-a-gaspar said
“EVERYTHING in life is an opportunity to learn and grow (PAUSE)
Even the pigeon crapping on your head is a teacher
The pigeon teaches us to accept what the moment presents”
(EMPHATICALLY) “But pigeon crap?” I asked Swami
(LOW VOICE) His reply: “Yes. We must learn to deal with the SHIT in life
To detach from what we hold onto and mistake for the TRUE way” (PAUSE)
And so, I didn’t lay on the horn, and give Joe Camel the FINGER (PAUSE)
But deep down I prayed a pigeon would drop a BIG one on his noggin
(SHIFT & EMPHATICALLY) This economy STINKS (PAUSE)
(POINT FINGER) I blame that BOW-LEGGED, WAR-MONGERING George Bush (PAUSE)
And yes, Enron, AIG, and the rest of those corporate thieves (PAUSE)
OK (PAUSE), so we ALL share in the blame for our economic mess (PAUSE)
It’s the worst it’s been since the Great Depression
Which I missed, but certainly Dad experienced
He even had to drop-out of high school his junior year (CONTINUE)
To work at Gus McCann’s filling station in Benwood, West Virginia
Dad says it was the best thing he ever did
Ole Gus taught him to play the guitar—
Something that brought true happiness to my father (PAUSE)
(LOWER VOICE & SERIOUS) Dad died last October at 86, nearly a year ago
(NOD HEAD) He kept his sense of humor to the end
During one of my last visits with him, Dad said:
(GRAVE VOICE) “Boy (PAUSE) this economy is bad
I better get the HELL out of here
Before they raise the price of funerals
And up the admission fee to get into Heaven” (PAUSE)
(SMILE) He made it through, before both hiked their prices (PAUSE)
(SHIFT & EMPHATICALLY) I want to do something DIFFERENT with my life
HONESTLY, I am TIRED of working (PAUSE)
That is doing things for MONEY (PAUSE)
DON’T get me wrong, I LOVE money
But REALLY, work ISN’T all it’s cracked up to be (PAUSE)
Mostly I’m tired of the PIGEONS
You know, those people who are forever CRAPPING on you
Because they pay YOU to do something
That frankly THEY should do themselves (PAUSE)
(SHIFT) The older I get
The more KARL MARX’S words ring true to my ears (PAUSE)
(EMPHATICALLY) NO, I’m NOT talking about one of Groucho Marx’s brothers (PAUSE)
I mean the big-bearded, 19th century political economist and philosopher (PAUSE)
Who said (PAUSE): “Work enslaves the spirit and beguiles all goodness in life” (PAUSE)
I guess that’s why I like art—
It frees the spirit, UNSHACKLING us from our own MADNESS (PAUSE)
That’s also why I HATE it when someone says:
(RAISE BROWS) “Your poem or photograph is a TRUE WORK of art”
Art, to me, is the ANTITHESIS of work (PAUSE)
(SHIFT & SMILE) I’m glad I got all this off my chest
I feel MUCH better
MAYBE I’ll even go back to work
And put up with those pigeons (PAUSE)
MAYBE I’ll listen to my doctor this year
And cut back on the mashed potatoes and ice cream (PAUSE)
MAYBE I’ll grow what REMAINS of my hair long
Take up the guitar
Buy a farm and raise pigeons
Register as a Defense contractor (PAUSE)
(LOWER VOICE & SLOWLY) And SELL my pigeons to the Pentagon (SMILE)
This photo is best seen in large size view to see its details. A new poem:
As We Grow Older
By Don Iannone
Summer flowers
Slipping away
Like the sun at dusk
The youthful spring, no more
In the old man’s steps
Dog-eared cone flowers
Droopy pink petals
Spiny orange tops
As best they can
Holding on for dear life
Our lives at times
Weak-kneed, fragile, out of kilter
Like some faint bad dream
Weighing upon us
Lingering well past morning coffee
Sometimes we wonder
Especially when afraid
Is it something we’ve done
That’s driven our lives away
Or maybe just time to say goodbye
Look deep inside
That place only you really know
That somewhere, always home
Never too far away
In reach when you need it
There in a glance
No need to linger
Longer than a moment
You already live there
It’s your place to be who you are
Everyone else, just a guest
At your invitation
See that stargazer lily over there
Its stamen jutting outward
It’s an invitation to you
Step inside, yourself
Smile
Give yourself a hug
The morning sunlight reveals
What the night’s darkness stole away from us
Those things haunting us well past 3 AM
Well past the time for usual self-inflicted salvations
Things we promise to do should we live
To see daybreak in our now slumbering garden
Cast your eyes upon something of beauty
Like those dangling pink flowers where morning dew drops cling
Like each breath we take holds on
Till the next can take its place
Leaving nothing in between
No room for the darkness to reenter
Admire the pink flowers, if you will
But they can’t save us
Nor can the garden itself
Soon to be choked to death by weeds
Then covered by snow
Freezing shut the ice blue lips of hope
Look more closely at the dew drops
Each a tear reflecting back to us
Parts of ourselves lost, broken, forgotten
One by one suck them into your mouth
In small measure, let them quench the thirst
That has become your life
I know you all come here for my poetry, but if photography interests you, click here to see my new photoblog: http://doniannonephoto.wordpress.com/
You must have wondered, more than once
Where the time has gone, and
Why things have changed
So suddenly, like the harvest wind
Why life, like sand in an hourglass
Slips quietly away, while you sleep
Or stand naked in your cold morning shower
Sometimes I look in the mirror
Late at night, when no one’s watching
And I catch a awkward glimpse of myself
Remembering way too much
Like the chewing gum I stuck under my desk
In third grade, when I once wondered
Why is love so difficult
And will there be a time
When the fighting stops
At home inside me, where I always live
And where I find myself just sitting
Waiting for another night to pass
Dedicated to Wink
Ninety-three
Once, so full of life
Now, breath by breath
Making room for another life
Still proud
Not in a vain way
But to have lived through so much
To have carried her cross the distance
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want
Little she wanted in life
Nothing to want in death
Except to go home
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
No more evil to fear
No more valleys to walk
No death to await
All goodbyes have been said
Her angel has come
Sweet sunlight falls across Thelma’s face
A new star will light the Heavens tonight
Note: Thelma was a hospice patient. I sat vigil with her last week. She died on July 1st. I read the 23rd Psalm to her before she died, not knowing it was her favorite scripture, which her great-granddaughter told me afterward.
July morning sun
Creeping through the trees
Into the front flower garden
A young blue jay watches on
The jay understands
There is nothing to be done
Nowhere to go
Just observe, soak up the sun
Sometimes we make life too hard
Harder than it needs to be
See the sun streaking through the garden?
Such is life in each moment
As a child, the better of two places
You might go when you die
A place with pearly gates
Where God and Jesus live
A place you imagined
When times were tough
A place giving you hope
For a better tomorrow
A place Grandma talked about often
Praying we may all go there someday
A rendezvous for family and friends
Like some magical tree house in the woods
And now, a frame of mind
Not a place anymore
But a way of being in any moment
Allowing life to pass through us
Nothing special
Or different than anything else
No need to be anything or anyone anymore
Just being for the sake of being
Like art, beauty for its own sake
Like beauty, in the eyes of the beholder
Like creation, unstoppable
Like now, Heaven
Gray rainy days
Why we need inner sunshine
Why we need inner focus
Bringing light to the world
We fret too much, this and that
Making unnecessary choices
After all, we’re here
It’s always now, never sooner or later
Bright pink azalea blossoms in sunlight
They’re possible any day
Come rain or shine
Always inside us, waiting
Outside my window—
A determined blue jay
Squawking about this and that
I laugh; that’s me
The rain subsides
Giving way to stillness
Even that nature provides
It’s ours, if we stop our squawking
Then there are the clouds
Hiding the sun
So nature’s tears can soak deep
Into the thirsty earth
Gray rainy days
Reminding us, listen, hear
The rain singing on the roof
Reminding us, bring our light to the world
there is this place inside me
i find myself there quite unexpectedly
without ever trying
a happy place
warm with early morning sunshine
just the hint of a breeze
turning grandma’s petunias side to side
on her green and yellow front porch
this place is grandma’s living room
i’m always a little boy
playing on the floor
next to the screen door
maybe this place is a wormhole—
an invisible tube—
connecting me to who i am
often when i hear the engine
of a small plane flying overhead
the low-vibration sound waves carry me to this place
this special place of comfort inside—
a place my grandma created just for me
this is a place of peace
where the better part of me steps forward
leaving the other parts behind
it’s always a gentle landing
like a cloud drifting across a perfectly blue sky
on a warm summer day
i always feel just a bit sad
when it’s time to leave
eventually we must all go
they knew me
turned their heads
looked my way
made me turn mine
there we stood—
face to face
i loved them
first moment i saw them
bright red dresses
decked out to the nines
voluptuous vixens
dancing in the wind
a bit of déjà vu
soulful remembering
strangely familiar—
the smell of fresh baked bread
the sweet scent of lilacs
a springtime long ago
they invited me to dance
sing out with them
red tulips touch us deeply
especially on a warm spring day
when the sun holds death at bay
and each moment is an eternity
she’s gone, my mom
her memories linger
like her sweet motherly scent
the enticing aroma of her cooking
mothers are magical
no way to be without one
how they love us, even when we’re bad
especially when we’re good
she died way too young
only 59 in 1986
wish we had more time
so many foregone memories
we reminisce more
the older we get
the more of life behind us
than ahead
boys and girls need their moms
to grow, become men and women
men and women need their moms
to remember the eternal child within them
No greater honor—
Be like the flower
Face the sun
Let its warmth fill you
Overturning whatever steals your joy
Be like the flower
Proud, but ever humble
Never too straight
Always able to bend
Flowing with the wind
Be like the flower
Use the day to grow
Give back to the Earth
Use the night to rest
Rejuvenate from a hard day’s work
Be like the flower
Always ready to live
And when the time comes
Be ready to die
Making room for another
Springtime
New beauty born
New beauty in our lives
Sharper focus on life’s becoming
Sometimes we try too hard
To be what we’re not
Possess what’s not ours
Fight who we are
Red tulips in a garden
No bucking the tide
Or clinging to anything
They simply are
We give the tulips our attention
They smile, their redness grows even brighter
We look beyond them
Life’s eternal fountain appears
We look inside ourselves
There our beauty lies
Eternal spring within our hearts
Our beauty comes into focus
So much inside us
Locked away
Inaccessible until
We discover the combination
Releasing deep secrets buried in the soul
These secrets
No mystery to the deepest part of us—
That part belonging to something larger
Yet out of sight they remain
Until the rusted lock and chain are taken away
Never easy
Dealing with the hidden
Even terribly lost parts of ourselves
But once in
So much more becomes known
Once we find our way
Even the deepest secrets—
Those buried in the cave of our heart
Become known
Releasing our grip on what binds us to eternity
There is this place
Called Daffodil Hill
Springtime magic covers it
Perky whites littering its base
A sea of brilliant yellows along the top
Sunlight graces this place
Touches your soul
Leaves you spellbound
Something larger ignites in your heart
When you hear the daffodils sing
I was a young boy once again
Speechless
No words to describe
Tears from nowhere filling my eyes
For an instant, connected to it all
Hard not to believe
In something divine, overwhelmingly powerful
Yet in its presence, a tenderness
Emanating from the magical chorus
On Daffodil Hill
New life
Emerging each moment
With each breath
Hope is born
Bringing our deepest desires into focus
New blossoms on the tree of life
Pure, virgin whiteness
Against a burning blue sky
Each blossom a breath
Each breath a new beginning
Programmed from birth
To become the fruit of life
Sustaining us
Transforming us
Like the rain and sun give us rainbows
No pain
Unless we resist
Stand in tomorrow’s way
Accept the gift—
New life in focus
Time
Not separate
Never without something else
One dimension among many
Old and new, both parts of the same
Within you
A metaphysical clock
Keeps you ticking
Never forward or backward
Always moving in circles
Life
Experienced as time
But always timeless
Moving in circles
Old and new, both parts of the same
Last night’s star-filled sky sang me fast to sleep
This morning’s warm sun graced my windowpane
Awakening me with its hypnotic laughter
Looking in the bathroom mirror this morning I thought—
It’s good to be alive
Things don’t always go our way
At times they totally run amok
Defying our sense of justice
Showing us how vulnerable we really are
It’s good to be alive
At times, we delude ourselves—
A good life is about getting our way
Having things as we want them
Stirring my morning coffee, I thought—
It’s good to be alive
Have you noticed how spring sunlight
Completely transforms the needles on a white pine
And how the sky and clouds peeking through the forest
Appear like blurry blue and white diamonds
It’s good to be alive
Sometimes we gravitate too much
In the direction of our dreams
Failing to appreciate the beauty, magic of life
Just as it presents itself
Truly, it’s good to be alive
Like ghosts
Their faces linger in my mind
Can’t forget them
No matter how hard I tried
They’re still there
Feeding on what’s left of me
Which faces?
The Depression faces
Dark, hollow, hungry
Haunting faces
Men, women, children
Especially the children
They sold their shoes
For pennies, a scrap of bread
Their filthy faces and feet
Dirtied by their worst nightmare
No washing away their pain
It changes you
Having nothing left to lose
Even worse
Having something and losing it
It changes you
Even looking back and remembering
From a distance
I watched you dance
Like a sea of tiny blue stars
Dreamy circles you waltzed
Never missing a step
Perfect harmony with the wind
Inching closer
I saw your sweet smiles
Blue spring beauties
Forever in tune
With that something larger
Casting a spell over me
How lucky seeing you dance
Your heads held high
Identical green dresses you wore
Like velvet
Shimmering in the sun
Graceful as only a flower can be
I felt you so close
As only a chosen lover can be
Dance with you I did
My heart filled with glee
Now I must go
A date with Emily Dickinson to keep
Too easy
Looking in obvious places
Those we already know
Possibilities already imagined
Imagine an open window
In the midst of your darkness
A place where light is possible
An opening for outside possibilities
Get used to the light
At first too much for your eyes
Then new images take shape
Filling your soul with hope
In this realm
The inevitable disappears
Taking its place
With all other known possibilities
Let the obvious possibilities fade away
Take a chance on the unknown
Bet the farm on it
Walk into the light
So much to delight about in springtime—
Fresh green buds on trees, crocuses, daffodils, tulips
But nothing matches a pastel blue robin egg
To ignite spring feelings within me
My robin egg infatuation traces back to first grade
When Miss Woods, using God and science in the same breath
Explained that robin eggs were blue to camouflage them
Among the sun-dappled leaves hovering about the robin’s nest
I decided then and there
That robin egg blue was my favorite color
Because it protected new life
And because it made me feel close to the sky
Even now, some fifty years later
Especially after a long hard winter
Spotting a robin egg shell on the ground
Makes me feel alive in a way only spring can do
Given a magic wand
I’d rid the world of loneliness—
What isolates us
Marginalizes us
Disconnecting us from the rest of the world
Mostly we do it to ourselves
We think we are alone
Separate from what sustains us
And sure enough
Our connection to life is broken
Yes, others can break the connection
Escalating our deepest fears of being alone
Heightening the pain of our cancer
Amplifying the weight of our depression
But mostly we do it to ourselves
We’re never really alone
You’re not, I’m not
Something Higher connects all of us
In your darkest hour, reach out
Touch it, let it touch you back
We wait too long
To do what’s most important
Things stirring our hearts
And riding the wild horses of our souls
The clock, time, busy schedules
Just excuses for not doing
What only we can do, and no other
Things making it all worthwhile
It’s gone before we know it
The best part of us
The things we equate to joy
Things worth doing for their own sake
It’s a mistake
To forget who we are
And then pretend truth was never there
Or something else was more important
We wait too long
To surrender to what really matters
To the only thing that can save us
From a life of hopeless despair and misadventure
You do it, and I see it in you
I do it, and you see it in me
If only we could see it in ourselves
Maybe we wouldn’t wait so long
Subject Line: Don Iannone on Live Radio/Webstream Show this Sunday, March 29th 4-5 p.m. EDT (1-2 p.m. PST)
I am joining a fellow member of Wisdom Workers, Dr. Zara Larsen, on her Tucson-based live talk radio and web streamed show this Sunday, March 29th from 4-5:00 p.m. EDT. "Circles of Change: Conversations on Change Leadership and Career Fulfillment" is dedicated to opening up positive conversations on personal career and organizational change to inspire and help others during these change-rich times. Zara has hosted over 100 shows in just over a year featuring guests from around the country. We will be discussing my portfolio career of leadership development and strategy consulting with Wisdom Workers (as Zara would say, "Your 9 to 5 life"), and creative life work in photography and poetry ("5 to 9, wanting to become more life!").
Join us live within the Tucson/Phoenix broadcast area on AM 1330 KJLL "The Jolt", or via web stream at your computer. www.tucsonsjolt.com/ If you are on an Apple/Macintosh computer, first circumvent Firefox and enter through Internet Explorer. Call-in questions to (520) 529-3508, toll free (877) 544-2580. Email questions can be sent to change@thelarsengroup.com
If you miss the live show, a recap and full podcast will be posted at www.thelarsengroup.com/ "Circles of Change Radio", 2009 Season left hand tab by Wednesday evening, April 1st, where you will also find the full complimentary library of thought provoking shows to date.
Thanks in advance for joining us!
Stepping inside a Japanese wood poppy
I took leave of myself
As some mad man might veer off the highway to work
Only to find himself fishing
Along the banks of an idyllic stream
Not often enough we surrender ourselves
To that something larger
Contained in even the smallest thing
Like a tiny blade of grass
Or the petal of a spring daffodil
Why quibble over a name, or anything
Standing between you and beauty
‘Tis better to be naked of all words
Even poetry
Than miss a flower’s healing kiss
So much, unsaid
Like all the mute soldiers
Returning from war
Wordless wanderers
Trying to forget themselves
What keeps them there
It’s in their eyes
Hiding under the lids
Like thunderstorms
Lurking behind clouds
Like numb fingertips
Wiping away frozen tears
More came back than didn’t
But even those returning–
Still there, in that place
The one they carried back with them
That’s now their prison
Life sentences, every last one of them
Will it ever end
War that is
Not over there
In here
It takes your words away
Then takes your life away
Dangling winter leaves
Strangers to each other
And to the world watching on
Quietly hoping for a sign
There is something more
Something worth dangling for
Dangling winter leaves
Strangers to reason
And that which it demands
Like leaves clinging to their branches
Each of us, you and me
Cling to each breath
Dangling winter leaves
Faded, tattered, icy reminders
Long past their season
Beyond all reason
Holding on to our gaze
As we hold on to them
Early Sunday morning, snow fell upon my world
Around and around it tumbled, oh how it swirled
Blinded by its beauty, its virgin whiteness ever brightened
An otherwise drab morning, I felt so full, so enlightened
Snowflakes are so different, like people I’ve come to know
Watching them dance together, spurs my love for them to grow
Even the lovely cardinals, upon the white blanket they sit
And cast tiny shadows, the hazy sun has lit
How could I not feel happy, utter Sagitarian glee
Snowflakes awaken my spirit, my sleeping soul set free
Amidst this snowy silence, God speaks just to me
Reminding me where is Heaven, that bluejay in the tree
Trees now grow where soldiers fought
Many died, more than we thought
Outnumbered Confederates, nearly three to one
Turned back Union forces, on their way to Charleston
Hallowed ground, fettered spirits still remain
Things the mind cannot explain
Yet in our hearts, their fear we surely know
Dying, not something anyone can forgo
Fort Lamar, the Battle of Secessionville
One fateful day, such a powerful clash of will
Hand to hand combat fought with pride
Brutal deaths, so many died
Towering oaks, yaupon hollies
Cover now the sins of war, its follies
Bay berries, pines now abound
The silence so loud, so profound
The Civil War over for most
Yet memories linger, some wretched ghost
A gentle breeze between the trees
The cries and whispers, only the heart does seize
Click here to see some photographs of the Fort Lamar Historical Preserve
A German poet and photographer friend, Ines Langs, has a new poetry book. The book is about 50% German and 50% English. Here are two of her English poems to tantalize you.
Love Torture
Oh what a torture love can be
taken and given
driven
by all the spirits
of heaven and hell
choking on a yell
laughing and crying
living and dying
in sweet pain and ecstasy
Copyright Ines Langs, March 29, 2007
————————————————————-
I only need a soft breeze to lift me up into the skies
Softly I came down to rest,
lying still now for a while.
When the sun is turning West,
you can see me softly smile.
Morning sun will wake me up
with his tender loving kiss.
And a breeze will lift me up,
lets me fly again in bliss.
(Copyright Ines Langs, October 26, 2008)
Here is the information to buy a copy.
“Poesie ist Licht und Dunkel”
by Ines Langs
ISBN 978-3-8370-7692-9
available for order in every bookstore and online:
Click here to order online (sorry, only in German)
(title translation: Poetry is Light and Dark)
The book contains a collection of my poems from 1997 to 2008, poems in English as well as in German, and some fitting images.
Who will take their pictures?
Helping us remember the tired, hungry faces
Riding cold boxcars into the dark night
Ten long years before World War II
Who will take their pictures?
Of our parents, grandparents, the elderly man living next door
Lonely survivors, waiting with millions in long food lines
Selling a pair of shoes for only a penny
Who will take their pictures?
Those turned out in the streets
Dark silhouettes sleeping in dumpsters
Cardboard box villages under bridges to nowhere
Who will take their pictures?
Barefoot mothers clutching dying hopes
Child-like dreams of tomorrow for sale
Bits of filthy cloth left for the rag man to gather
Who will take their pictures?
Helping us remember
Hard times, here again
Set your price, all shoes and dreams once again for sale
Note: Dedicated to the wonderful photographers capturing the human side of the Great Depression. See more here.
Rust colored leaves
Lonesome naked trees
Waving branches, wild dancing fingers
Reaching upward, gray skies, dark clouds above
Early snow, sparse gatherings here and there
Thin streams of streaky smoke
Lazily drifting from red brick chimneys
A sorrowful wind howls cold and lonely
In the distance, two bright red cardinals
Chirping November songs back and forth
Songs of plenty, winter solitude, thanksgiving
Melodies reunited strangers sing
I hope I never forget
How October brought us here
Just to hear the wind
And strangers sing November songs
A hint of cool peppermint
One wispy streak of fragile salmon pink
Lingering still, the far-off horizon
A skipped heartbeat
Awaiting the stars, the moon’s sweet embrace
Content resting in the moment
No wishing for a shooting star
No anticipation of what’s to come
Comfortable forgetting all that has passed
Even the wind holds its breath
Till it all fully touches us—
That momentary magic—
Being alive
She left me
All alone, so very blue
She left me
Reasons why, I never knew
She left me
Standing there by myself
She left me
All my dreams on some deserted shelf
She left me
Wondering where I go from here
She left me
Not so much as one tear
She left me
My lonely heart, oh so blue
She left me
Broke my heart in two
Note: Written in senior year of high school, 1969, St. Clairsville, Ohio. This poem was intended as song lyrics. They never made it, but I never really tried to use them in a song.
The neighbor’s dog chases a lone leaf
Gliding like an golden angel to earth below
Sitting at my window, I smile at the dog—
Now victoriously clutching the leaf between his teeth
He savors his prize
Careful not to destroy what was so hard won
Between calculated sips of my morning coffee
I try my best to imagine
What most Blacks are feeling this morning
After a resounding Obama victory last night
Victorious, validated, vibrant, perhaps vivacious
But surely now believing dreams come true
So much of life, chasing golden leaves
Seeking our special moment
A time to shine like the sun
Sparkle like a diamond
Twinkle like a star in full aliveness
Congratulations America on your choice
“We’ve just experienced a profound shift in our consciousness.”
Comment by Oprah Winfrey to CNN News on Election Night 2008 in Chicago, IL
Personal Commentary by Don Iannone
Just finishing a new masters degree in consciousness studies, this quote by Oprah Winfrey grabbed my attention. What did Oprah mean by a consciousness shift? You would need to ask her to know what she really meant, but I will take a stab at what I think she meant.
What does a shift in consciousness mean? In an overall sense, it refers to a new awareness of the world–a more holistic, and integrated worldview; a new worldview that sees the deeper connections in our lives to all people and all things, and the inviolability or sanctity of all life.
This shift has been a long time coming, and not just conceived on Election Night 2008. We have been evolving in this direction for a long, long time. The shift is much more than a new political or economic vision for America, although new visions of both could come from the shift. It is more than a shift in ideology from a Republican regime to a Democratic regime. It is more than a shift from rich to poor, White to Black, Iraq and Afghanistan to the American Middle. The shift in consciousness is about the recognition of the enormous power of our ideas, what we believe, hope for, and dream of. It is a shift to seeing how we transform ourselves each moment through our consciousness of ourselves and our world. It is about the role of our consciousness in giving shape to our evolution as human beings and integral components of the whole of life.
I believe that is what Oprah Winfrey was speaking of when she spoke of a consciousness shift. I believe this is something that has been inside Oprah Winfrey for a long time, but she was given the courage to speak to the shift by her recent work with Eckhart Tolle, the author of The Power of Now and A New Earth. Learn more here: www.eckharttolle.com/eckharttolle
Watch for the signs of this shift in consciousness within yourself and your world. It’s there and it is profoundly powerful.
See the photographic version of this post on my Flickr website.
Monday morning, new week starting
Find your way, waters parting
So much ahead, to be done
Deadlines approach, under the gun
In all this busyness, don’t forget
Take it easy, why the sweat
We push ourselves at times too hard
Take a stroll in the yard
Remember who you are, why you’re here
Experience life’s magic, it comes so near
In you lies a child-like smile
Let it fill you for a while
Ride that smile to a laugh
Play a better game, second half
Mondays last just one day
On this one, let yourself out to play
Answers come, answers go
Questions linger, we don’t know
Deeper ones last forever
Definite answers, no not ever
All our schooling, our supposed knowing
Ignorance still abounds, and it’s growing
Some think they know, that others don’t
Resolve it all, the know-it-all’s won’t
Climb a mountain, the one inside
Where timeless answers always hide
Sit there quiet, in silence golden
Trust the moment, love unfolding
I gaze upon her
Virgin as she is
But not for long
Her purpose from the start—
To meld, join, transform
Bring about what doesn’t exist
Birth new beginnings
First beginnings, I think
Eden, Big Bang, cosmic innocence
All other beginnings, only because
There was a first beginning
A starting point before all others
A single, untouched placeless event
From that point, all others
So much, I can forgive you for
But never your anger can be
Your loneliness, and its cries
Grow tears inside of me
Friends forever, we shall be
To your fear of darkness, amorphous anxieties
Heaps of reassuring hugs I give
Hoping to set you free
So long as you repent
I can always forgive
Your forgetfulness, poor memory
And so long as you love me with all your heart
Your clumsy way of showing love
Sets off a smile, healing warmth filling me
But your anger, sharp as a deadly knife
Cuts me deep inside
This I can never forgive
It sparks the same in me
No forgiveness there can be
At times, words seem so incomplete
Leaving us wanting
In ways we cannot describe
Pointing to things not things at all
Within and about us, directions, places with no words
Not now, or ever
Close your eyes
Recall the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever seen
Try your best to describe it—bring it back to life with words
How it became a sudden part of your life
How in between heartbeats
You even mused death also could be beautiful
Words will always be lonely—
Seeking the company of other words
So they won’t die a lonely death
Like souls need bodies to manifest life
Like the sun needs a reflective surface
To paint a sunset, signaling its departure
So why bother, you say
To replay our life experiences
Like some loved old movie
I have a hunch—
We want to hold on, to all of it
The sunset, even our words about death
Times have gotten pretty tough
Perhaps a diamond in the rough
Everyone, feelin’ the pain
As the economy raises Cain
Working hard, no guarantee
Retirements washed out to sea
Rich and poor, both are losin’
As the markets take a bruisin’
Makes you wonder, when it’ll end
Empty wallets, blowin’ in the wind
Leaner times, here to stay
Easy money, not today
Easy to point a finger of blame
Don’t forget, we all played the game
Livin’ way beyond our means
Now we’re eatin’ more pork and beans
Lessons abound for everyone
Change ahead, won’t be fun
Go back to what really matters
Steer clear, all the idle chatters
Let’s re-envision the American Dream
It’s a busted old and tired machine
Let’s fix the planet, you and me
If I’m right, it’ll set us free
In some ways, more than we think
In other ways, much less
Someone who knows what you’re going through
Another who extends a helping hand, when needed
Not necessarily someone smarter
Or with more answers
After all, all questions in life are personal
A good teachers knows this
Good teachers are good students
Always learning
Never afraid they don’t know
Willing to see things in different ways
Living examples
Ones your soul wants to follow
Someone living their own life, not another’s
One knowing nothing lasts forever
One allowing students to flower
Become teachers themselves, in their own way
Finally, one getting out of the way of your learning
But there just when you need him
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