Life hasn’t lent itself to writing or blogging or even visiting much lately, but I am online for a short time today and wanted to share this old poem – now rewritten – and to invite you to visit a new blogger, Steffi. Say “hi” and cheer her on.
Also of note: Myra Schneider’s newest poetry collection (it’s fabulous), The Door to Color is out. The latest issue of ArtemisPOETRY is available from Second Light Network, a collective of women poets. It’s engaging as always. Much enjoyed both these works.
Also, details on the third issue of The B Zine are below and we are currently working on Issue 4, which will publish on February 6. I hope that by mid-February I’ll be seeing more of of you. Meanwhile, you are in my thoughts and prayers!
like the ripeness of crimson, like ground,
opening to growth, the primal sward,
or the harder than rock diamond, the
quiet way a good word cuts out the
voice of deception, draws us into
the nameless as it’s written on glass
to see us though … words have a
way of multiplying themselves like
cells when they divide, like chicks
breaking from their shells, words
burst from our mouths like whales or
dolphins surfacing above water,
their music dances in our ears, sometimes
harmonious, sometimes dissonant, ready
to help or haunt – take hate, door slamming,
end of discussion, or unlatching love,
breaks down walls, willing to debate
or so delectable, like a sweet kiss
the first time before union transfixing,
and prayer, a different sort of melding,
it’s one that transforms us …
that we might make the peace, tear
the ragged pages from the old lexicon,
an act that breaks the binding of our
language to free the fresh sprouts …
pushing though the ether, populating
Rumi’s field, such an opening for grace,
like faith, hope and charity, renewed,
purified, taken clean and hard polished
and used in a poem with a new spirit ~
words, a boat that takes us from here
to there, and having arrived, we let it go …
floating beyond messages of wrong or
of right, in our spring – in Rumi’s field,
we’ll lie down on the lilt of grass, so full,
our peace no longer needing any words
or any poetry, nor even any name . . .


You also Jamie are in my thoughts and prayers. Your light always casts beauty and peace upon this earth.
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And yours, Gretchen. Thank you!
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Elysium redefined, Jamie. This is divine, in all senses of the word. The vision first spoken about by our friend, Rumi, provides us with such a powerful resource for peaceful meditation. As you may recall, I was inspired to write a piece by Rumi’s Field, which remains one of my favourites. Thank you for this.
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I do recall. Lovely! Thank you, John.
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Thanks for sharing this, Jamie. I’ve missed you. This has such a “Rumi-feel.” Nicely done.
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Thank you, Victoria. Hope all is well with you.
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Lovely. Thank you. Linda
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Loved this, and shared with Tumblr, Twitter, Stumbleupon, Pintrest, Pocket, and Google… and maybe a few more.. I can’t recall now… have missed seeing you around.
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Thank you, Paul. That’s very kind. I haven’t been online much lately, but I hope that will change by mid-February or early March at the latest, God willing.
J.
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Yes! ‘When the soul lies down in that grass’….reminds me of my favorite song, “September Grass” by James Taylor. Such a good feeling to play that tune and think of ‘the world too full to talk about’.
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I agree. Thank you, Priscilla.
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divine simplicity
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