Tag Archives: poem

i, ZENTURY.

shutterstock_2429130-vi

Don’t fight it.

It won’t make a difference anyway, and the end result, which is really the only result, will always be exactly where it was meant to be, even before you knew it would be there.

And this is not about giving up, conforming, confirming or conning you. But rather, it is about the thing that you know makes you tick, like a clock, and part of the new stopular culture that is the real deal.

Continue reading

FireWalk

stock-footage-flicker-of-smoldering-coals-lay-in-cinder-closeup-view

I remember walking.

To the beat of my inner talking, and soul stalking. Every step is a detailed and ghostly psychic chalking of my past lifelines, present past-times and future fires.

Oh man. It was an intense time. Past tense. Future tense.

With every step, there was a kind of cleansing. Like walking on white hot coals of regrets. Brutal, but kind. The kind of intensity that happens only a few times in your life, like some greater power is trying to sell you on an old idea, that may be new to you. Who knew? Continue reading

STP MKNG SNS.

clock

Ahem.

Sorry, to interrupt. But. Can you hear it?

Sure you can. Don’t fight it. Don’t deny it. Own it. It’s been poking and stoking you for a little while now. Can you feel the relentless tapping and rapping? The kneeing and the freeing of you?

Teasing and breezing right by you, like a butterfly tornado, faster and faster, trillions of flapping wings, an infinite number of times over, until it finally gets your attention. And it never gives up, because we both know that it already gets you. It knows, that you know, that I know, that you know, the deal.

Yes, now you are letting it, and getting it. Continue reading

Newture.

color

Close your eyes.

Say hello to tomorrow. Go on. Give it a hug.

After all, it is all yours. You own this. It won’t bite, unless you intended it to do that. Everything about it, every nuance, every new ounce, and every vibration are all pieces of you. In fact, you know those motions you are making now? Both the positive and negative thoughts and simple slightest undetectable movements will ripple into eternity and create the waves of tomorrow that will either give you a full-on wicked surf or ruthlessly drown you.

Interesting. I can certainly guarantee it looks absolutely nothing like you thought it would. That’s always the case. Don’t stress. Continue reading

Wordplay Wednesday: Don’t Go Gently Into That Good Night

"The LORD is my Light..."Shining light into dark places is going to bring to light what was not seeable otherwise.
Illumination may well show you the true nature of things as they are, not as you had imagined or wanted.
Beware.
It can be unsettling. Shadows will dance.

Because you are going to see the true nature of the relationships you hold most dear to you, and the perception of you within them.

Careful.

The light of awareness may just show you that you are ultimately alone – more alone than you had ever known or imagined.

But as the searing light falls upon those dancing shadows, know that if met with equanimity and acceptance, you will see ultimately that every black detail of this revelation is a deeply beautiful gift.

Finally, and with undoable knowledge – you now know the Truth. You will not, again, look for something where it is not. The Truth will have been spoken. And it will be heard in all its terrible glory:  you are not wanted, understood or supported.
And in this message there is the fiercest kind of  beauty.

Because in this message, there is liberation. And the deepest healing.
You may finally- at last – stop running.
You finally see. You finally know.
Never again will you delude yourself into thinking something is what it is not.
And this is beautiful.

‘Do not go gently in to that good night..’

Be prepared to see your image shine back at you standing all alone – as others cut loose from you, insisting your difference, screaming a shrill and loud rejection of you.

Know that in this too, when met with internal stillness, there is beauty.
There is cleansing.
The old is falling away.

Clean Sense.
This is the gift of shining lights in the dark.
This is the gift of diwali and eclipses.
The festival of light and shadows.
Ultimately the work of the light is for healing.

Illumination will remove shadows.
And relieved of chasing shadows – you are finally, forever free.
The Truth Is Beautiful.

Satyam Shivam Sundaram

Welcome the Light

Originally posted on my website, The Modern Girl’s Guide to Spirituality

Wordplay Wedneday: Looking for Love

Way of the heartI have been looking for you

I have searched for you in the kiss of a stranger

I have sought you in the eyes of my child

I thought you might be hidden in the arms of my mother

Or perhaps in the songs my father sang me to sleep.

I crumble in defeat

Wishing I could have found your comfort

But you elude me

Dodging me in my quest to conquer you, to hold you and claim you as mine once more

because you are waiting…

For me to stop thinking about you, to stop hunting you

Because the thoughts of a mind cannot give you your due

They cannot define you, because you are indescribable

What word could I possibly utter that would explain you. It’s all so limited and small against your expanse

And so you wait….

Until I go out of my mind and finally see that you have been here all along, behind the words of wisdom, underneath the fear and doubt. Love…

***

We spend every waking minute seeking ways to experience this feeling. I have no other word in my language but love to describe it, but it just does not do it justice. From the moment I emerged from the womb, I felt as if it was ripped from my soul. Sometimes so frantic to find it I would do anything to experience the warmth of it’s caress, the never ending expansiveness of it, the gift of wholeness it would bring, wreaking such havoc in my soul, risking all that I have thinking this time I will catch it.

But this is not something to catch, there is no mind trap I could conjure that would snare it. It is just here, right here. And only when I finally stop knowing the path, when I stop chasing it, and stand still will I feel it’s arms already wrapped around me.

***

Do you have a favorite or original poem you would like showcased on Wordplay Wednesday? We’d love to share it! Email the poem to editor@intent.com, and we will feature it in the series. Click here to view past Wordplay Wednesdays.

Wordplay Wednesday: To My Dear Child

Submitted by Sophie Badami, from Pune, India

I love you if you reply to my mail

But if you don’t reply to my mail, I love you even more.

I love you if you acknowledge my e -message,

But if you don’t I love you even more.

I love you if you acknowledge my existencce

But I love you more if you dont

I love you if you have to say something nice about me

But I love you more if you say something not -so- nice about me.

I love you if I know that you are happy

But I love you more if I know you are unhappy.

I love you if you are successful

But I love you more if you are not successful.

I love you if you are hale and hearty,

But I love you more if you are sick.

I love you if you are physically fit

But I love you more if you are not.

I love you if you are friendly to me

But I love you more if you ignore me

I love you if you phone me sometimes

But I love you even more if you don’t.

I love you if your share your thoughts and feelings

But I love you more if you cant.

I love you if you follow my advice

But I love you even more if you cant

I love you if you achieve something in life

But I love you if you fail to do so

I love you if you help me out

But I love you even more if you overlook my request for help.

My child, I used to think that love is two-way-traffic.

But now I know, one-way is bliss.

And all my love- you-more are indicators,

That I share your pain, your hurt and your suffering like my own.

***

Do you have a favorite or original poem you would like showcased on Wordplay Wednesday? We’d love to share it! Email the poem to editor@intent.com, and we will feature it in the series. Click here to view past Wordplay Wednesdays.

photo by: legends2k

VOD: College Poet Tells the Sad Truth About Growing Up Female

“You were taught to grow out, I was taught to grow in,” Lily Myers recites at the Wesleyan University at the 2013 College Unions Poetry Slam Invitational. Her haunting poem chronicles the lessons and habits she’s picked up from her mother, passed down from the generations. Mentally she’s been conditioned to think of her self as small and that all efforts should be made to make herself smaller.

Is this a subconscious message we are sending to all young girls growing up? Is that why there’s a need for books like Lean InIt makes you take a step back and look at the messages we observe and regurgitate back out as the norm. How many times have you asked a question that started with the word sorry? More importantly, how do we empower ourselves, our sisters, our daughters and our friends to grow out instead of in?

If you have a video that you think should be featured in our Video of the Day column tell us in the comments below! 

Wordplay Wednesday: Rumi’s Greatest Love Poems

Requiebro

You might recall a choice debate over love and poetry between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice:

Elizabeth: I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!

Darcy: I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love.

Elizabeth: Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.

Would you agree with Elizabeth’s sentiments? Does love need to exist in its entirety before a poem can lend it any strength? Or might poetry on occasion drive and ignite love, as Darcy suggests?

We are inclined to believe the latter. Poetry can help us say what regular words cannot express, inspiring passion in the hearts of readers where there was previously only a placid love. And who better to ignite such depth of feeling than the great poet Rumi?

A Persian poet and Sufi mystic from the 13th century, Rumi’s work has transcended all barriers of time, space, religion, ethnicity and language. His portfolio is monumental, both in size and scope. But here we offer three of his most poignant love poems, for all the romantics out there.

Do You Love Me?

A lover asked his beloved,
Do you love yourself more
than you love me?

The beloved replied,
I have died to myself
and I live for you.

I’ve disappeared from myself
and my attributes.
I am present only for you.

I have forgotten all my learning,
but from knowing you
I have become a scholar.

I have lost all my strength,
but from your power
I am able.

If I love myself
I love you.
If I love you
I love myself.

~

Behind the Scenes

Is it your face
that adorns the garden?

Is it your fragrance
that intoxicates this garden?

Is it your spirit
that has made this brook
a river of wine?

Hundreds have looked for you
and died searching
in this garden
where you hide behind the scenes.

But this pain is not for those
who come as lovers.

You are easy to find here.

You are in the breeze
and in this river of wine.

~

Defeated by Love

The sky was lit
by the splendor of the moon

So powerful
I fell to the ground

Your love
has made me sure

I am ready to forsake
this worldly life
and surrender
to the magnificence
of your Being

* * *

Do you have a favorite or original poem you would like showcased on Wordplay Wednesday? We’d love to share it! Email the poem to editor@intent.com, and we will feature it in the series. Click here to view past Wordplay Wednesdays.

A New Yorker’s Heart-wrenching Poem for September 11

Flower at September 11 MemorialOn 9/11/11, after news of the attacks surfaced, Mike Rosen didn’t know if his father would be coming home that day. In his child’s mind, all he knew was: he lived in New York; his dad worked in New York; thousands had been killed in a terrorist attack; his dad could be one of them.

Thankfully, he wasn’t. But thousands of other little boys and girls would not be as lucky. In this heart-wrenching slam poem, Rosen discusses his impressions of that day as a young boy, the collective pain that followed, and the remarkable character of New York City so highlighted in the aftermath of the attacks. This was not about “our god” or “their god,” he says, because in times like this we are all one, and the work to heal is collectively ours.

“That day no one in New York grabbed rifles, we grabbed bandanas and shovels and we started digging because our lives were underneath that rubble.”

Check it out:

Today is a solemn day for many. For those of us who are old enough to remember the events, we think back on where we were, what we were doing, how we felt when the news reached our awareness. But in addition to the pain, we may also feel a deep gratitude and compassion for the collective spirit that rose up, in New York and around the country, to affect the healing so desperately needed.

We bless the lives that were lost, those who survived, and all touched by September 11 and its aftereffects. We invite you to share your stories below.

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