Calling All Creative Minds/Peace lovers/dreamers/finders of hope to our creative collaboration – Tales of Love

Hello Everyone,

Please join us as we celebrate this month of ‘love’ with love that goes beyond time… Love for humanity, love for our beautiful planet, love for our mother, our father, our brother, our sister, our friends, our partners and for each other, love for peace, and love for hope…and share these tales of love in a mini collaboration brought to you by the #PoetsforPeace trio – Michael, Marie and Neha.

If you haven’t taken part in our previous collaboration before, you can see our #Poets for Peace Collaboration here. Stay tuned for more information on our grand collaboration later this year, #PoetsforPeace2017.

This will be at a much smaller scale; however, will have a similar feel and flow.

Below are the rules to participate:

  • Please place your contribution in the comments section (We will accept all contributions except for any that we deem hateful or inappropriate) Make sure to post your blog or email address beneath the piece.
  • Your contributions will be added in the order they come ( we usually try to update  every weekend) and your name and blog (if provided) will be listed under it.
  • This collaboration will be open until midnight (Eastern time) February 28th. So please enter before then to participate.
free google image/ credit goes to original photographer
free google image/ credit goes to original photographer

Here is my piece to start this off:

Sunrise scattered, 

the tales of love,

in the orange skies…

and my heart smiled

to see this majestic glow

-Neha (forgottenmeadows.wordpress.com)

It was the day you said hello
First thing in the morning that was
The lab you were about to show
We were introduced, then a pause
First thing in the morning that was
I was the new girl in the lab
We were introduced, then a pause
City was a bit of a drab
I was the new girl in the lab
And you were such a gentleman
City was a bit of a drab
You showed it to me like a fan
And you were such a gentleman
Showered me all your attention
You showed it to me like a fan
With friends, we had a lot of fun
Showered me all your attention
Till the last day of the training
With friends, we had a lot of fun
And from a distance, love we bring
Till the last day of the training
Two years later we got married
And from a distance, love we bring
After thirty years, love we lead
Two years later we got married
The lab you were about to show
After thirty years, love we lead
It was the day you said hello
(c) ladyleemanila 2017


Let’s Love Again

Walking down streets
I look at signboards
That hide your name
For once we strode
These lanes hand-in-hand
When love was in the air!
I wonder today
If we revised our vows
Would it revive our love
Or are both lies
Past redemption
Broken promises
Like fading ink
On yellow paper
Is there a chance
To put it all behind us
Close our eyes
To soak up the tears
Whisper promises
In the tender breeze
As we make peace
With our tattered love
I hope for the day
When you will
Caress my warmth
With the tender glow
Of your fiery touch
We will make a bonfire
Burn all misgivings
Of our torturous past
And fall in love again!
Aneesha (www.felinemusingsblog.wordpress.com)


Golden horizon

The first morning of the world
Touching earth with love
Each dawn a new beginning
On the quest for compassion
Sue (https://scvincent.com/)

black topics.

cause and effects,
the butterfly’s wing.

so here on the night watch,
all is quiet , no birds sing.

touched by the small thing,
softly, we drew together,
with words, and gestures
in air, in mind.

touched by the old things
i draw and weave
the ways of night.

upload the black heart,
later.

i write, edit, delete.
words here,
you cannot see,
do they leave a trace,
tell me.

do you sense their meaning,
and the rhyme,
are there codes
between the lines.

is there something
in words not said,
or is it here,
as clear,
as day.

when it comes.

Sonja (https://sonjabenskinmesher.wordpress.com/)

 

My tiny self is not willing
to participate in this suggestion,
will not undertake a voluntary
evacuation — so it makes
a plan for hurricanes,
how it will shelter in place,
place tape across my eyes

so they won’t break, bring in
all of me that’s fragile,
gather all it thinks it needs
for self-sufficiency, withdraw
into some inner hallway
deep within, hide inside
determined to survive alone.

But Love is stronger than
the solitary shelter where
I cower, it roars and crashes,
takes the roof off, strips
away all my protection.
Indiscriminate, it also
tears away my self-perception,

insecurities and fears of rejection.
It rips through this tidy place
of safety that I’ve made until
there’s nothing left beneath
my feet or in my grasp but air,
and nothing left for me except
to dare the storm.

-Laura M Kaminski (https://arkofidentity.wordpress.com/)

 

What is this love thing, then?
she asked, cheeks still pink
from being outdoors. Because
i’m not sure i can do it any more.
This fierce grasp on my heart,
it’s too much.
She sighed.
What is this love thing, then?
And we walked back
along the narrow path
between rainbow swirled puddles
and glittering glass reflecting
shards of sky. I said nothing.

I don’t know. What is
this love thing? It’s that
shard of sky. It’s that grain
of sugar, that dark line
down the edge of the cup.
It’s just love.

-(fantasticmetastaticme.wordpress.com)

 

 

a golden kiss to the purple sky

little warmth to the dark night

with great passion they bind

a golden kiss to the purple sky

like a man and his wife

who promised to lead together – life

a golden kiss to the purple sky

little warmth to the dark night

2017©Sri Sudha K

Naa prapancham,My world (Srisudhak.wordpress.com)

 

 

It’s the power of love,

that makes my words flow..

All my thoughts penned down,

It’s the power of love,

   That inks my thoughts,

                                 Showing all that I feel,

                                    It’s the power of love,.                                                         That makes my words flow..

2017©Sri Sudha K (srisudhak.wordpress.com)

 

Love is only light
That drives loneliness away
Gives warmth to our heart
******
Love is the one flame
Giving cozyness of life
Making us feel young
******
Flames that light our lives
Keep us going through ups & downs
Is from the love fire

******

2017©Sri Sudha K (Srisudhak.wordpress.com)

 

 

Song From The Home Of Love

The home of love is in our heart.
The home of love is where it all starts.
The home of love is on our earth,
it is there where we come to birth.

In the future we will be
on many planets throughout the universe.
We will be born far away from earth,
but in our heart she will be there.

In every cell and every gene
she will be there, a living dream.
And generations out there to come
will listen to her cosmic song.

The home of love is our soul
and our soul is the body‘s core,
is consciousness from the source supreme,
is energy united to the earthworld‘s real.

The cosmic mystery is woven into the earth.
It is the truth sacred that makes it all work.
It is the same truth that acts through our soul.
It is the love supreme. It is there in every atom.

The earth is born from the sun.
The sun is born from the galactic throng
coming from the center of the Cosmic One.
All is united, is soulful matter‘s song.

The home of love lives in our heart.
From there we go into the vast.
To millions of stars we go and infinite dimensions.
We are the home of love, we are soul and earth united.

Lyrics & Music: Michel Montecrossa, © Mira Sound Germany

https://michelmontecrossaliveblog.wordpress.com/

 

 

My Love
by ROSTI

There was once literally
Thousands of miles between us.

We got over that and are now so close
We hear each other’s hearts beat…

As one…

© Richard A. Martin, Jr., MD, CPC, 2017

 

Deja You

The first time
that I saw you
it was deja vu.
I could tell
by the look
in your eye,
it wasn’t just me
you knew me too.
Then you spoke
of past lives
and twin souls,
of vulnerability
and trust,
while we went on
midnight strolls,
sat beneath the
arched trellis
woven with gardenias.
All I could smell
was your scented hair,
sandalwood oil and you
perfumed the air.
You tasted so sweet,
and felt so soft,
on my bruised spirit.
My heart beat so hard
you said you that you
could hear it.
You placed your ear
against my chest,
and then smiled when
I sighed.
In that one moment
I would have happily
died.
Thinking of it,
thinking of you
wishing for another
deja vu.
~
M. Zane McClellan (thepoetrychannel.wordpress.com_)
~
Copyright © 2017
All rights reserved

 

Love
Love is holy ,love is pure
Love is above all your fear
A modest gift we always had near
It fills all hearts with joy and cheer
Love is the strength when we are hurt
Even if we are miles apart
Prejudices cannot match love’s proficiency
Its grandure is more than pride and vanity
So start loving each and every one u find
There’s no shame in loving ‘coz love is blind

debolinasenjhumur.wordpress.com

 

 

The Face of Love

Before the face of love,
I’m humbled and
rendered whole
as it divines my truth.

Before the face of love,
I’m drenched and
rendered undone
as it surrenders your truth.

Gazing upon your face,
love’s truth washes ashore –
soaking my heart as it
splashes my thirst –

Only to dissipate in your heat.

©2016 Brenda Baker
Caffeinated Ramblings: https://cyberneticblonde.com

 

 

World Peace Haiku

Love for all the world,

Spiral out to all Nation’s,

Let love and peace reign.

D.B. Mauldin

https://authordbmauldin.wordpress.com

 

Passionata

drumskin resonance
snared by the brush-beats
that syncopate passion
two hearts in their swoon
hand in hand for the
dance of all dances
bliss rising and falling
to rhythms of
generous urgency
teaching two lives
given truth of their troth
how a love can endure
in the keep to one tempo
Paul F. Lenzi (poesypluspolemics.wordpress.com)

 

UNDYING BEAUTY

Somewhere far from the worldly hustle,
I pause and look around,
The beauty in this eternal nature,
Simply thrills to no bound.

The undying beauty of nature,
Drives me into a merry mood,
To describe it the best,
It is the bliss of solitude.

I close my eyes just for a while,
It feels like nature is speaking to me,
I enjoy the moment and feel,
I am sinking in natural eternity.

My heart talks to the winds,
Flies with the birds in the sky,
Dances with the flowers,
And rises up and high.

As closer I go to nature,
As deeper I sink,
It’s the best gift by God,
Is what I begin to think.

The undying beauty of nature,
Fills my heart with pleasure and bliss,
I just say to myself,
It simply can’t get any better than this!
– Nikesh Lilani (incrediblepoetry.wordpress.com)

 

When In Your Arms

When in your arms,
the world fades away
and I’m floating on the clouds above.
No words need be shared,
when we feel the love between us,
taking a journey,
toward the sky above.
When in your arms,
I feel the joy that love brings –
I can even hear angels sing.
When in your arms,
the world can’t do me any harm.
You keep me warm and safe,
make me feel like a queen.
You take me to the stars and back,
all that I long for,
a love that is satisfying
and makes my heart beat ever faster,
as long as you are there –
when you take me in your arms.

Rasma R.

https://nothingbutpoetry.wordpress.com

 

For You

if I could but dance
I’d lead you through waltzes round rays of the sun
and speed you through polkas, mazurkas on end
 
if I could but jump
I’d pluck the bright stars to adorn your fair hair
and tuck the moon tenderly into your lap
 
if I could but run
I’d race the fleet winds across mountains and glens
and chase down each songbird for your serenade
 
if I could but walk
I’d stroll with your hand in mine up country lanes
cajole the world’s blossoms to sweeten our way
 
if I could but stand
I’d fold you in close like I did when we met
and hold tight forever your heart against mine

Paul F. Lenzi (poesypluspolemics.wordpress.com)

Back to You

Saltwater rivulets
run clear
down the stone face
leaving an invisible
stain
that only the heart
can trace
deceptive
the tranquil pose
with each passing
second
of your absence
my equanimity erodes
I swim in the shallows
of my emotions
fight the current
traveling upstream
where love spawned
a lifetime ago
I began my journey
back to you
~
M. Zane McClellan (https://thepoetrychannel.com)

Timeless

eyes meet
hands clasp
hearts race
this moment like the last
and the one before
never growing old
with time

Ken Gierke ( rivrvlogr.wordpress.com)

White Dove

One cold evening,
I looked outside
At the ashen sky,
Trembling with grief
For the world
I once knew
And loved,
A world I feared
I might never
Know again.

But a white dove
Came to me,
Bathed in light,
And told me
Not to be afraid,
That the world
Could be better
If only I chose
To make it so.

She told me
That Light
Is stronger
Than Darkness,
That Hope
Is stronger
Than Fear,
That Love
Is stronger
Than Hate.

She reminded me
That just as
The night
Comes before
The dawn
And every storm
Is followed
By sunshine,
So does resistance
Precede acceptance.

Her words
Filled my heart
With hope
And gave
My spirit wings.
In that moment,
The fear I’d felt
Gave way to courage
And the promise
Of a brighter future.

As I watched her
Fly away
Into the sunset,
I smiled,
Knowing now
What I must do.

If I want to
Make the world
A better place,
I have to believe
I can start
With myself.
It’s time to
Be the change.

© J.C. Wolfe, 2017
The Wolfe’s (Writing) Den: http://jaycwolfe.com/

 

My love for you first formed
From the beat of a drum
In a circle of grandmothers, mothers and daughters
I heard your voice
I felt your unconditional love and acceptance
My vision of you came as peace
And a beacon unto the world
A promise of faith in mankind
I loved you the minute
I felt the beat of your drum

Marie Lukasik-Wallace (https://Writingwingsfor.you.com)

 

The Mirror
for my son, age 7

Growing into himself too quickly
he questions the composition of his face
positions his eyes slightly closer together
as if an acute pose will make the
mirror aware of his inevitable manhood

tight with time, he is a builder, toppling
his hair, climbing it again with minded hands
he is arched as if running a bridge,
elevated in his position
as the undefeated ruler of himself.

I have encountered my only enemy,
I realize, a mirror that speaks to him
in futurist illusions of adulthood,
wherein lies of glorious independence
speak in imaginary tongue, and I
am the voice of unheard truth:

“romantic possibilities are not on the other side
of your reflection, know the blessing of your
present reality and speak to it as if it loves you
more than you can love yourself.”

The dark is my welcome time now
your original mirror, your arms tight
have you forgotten yourself?
simple presence with original source
oh, what little you know of life
I will teach you everything.

Kate Houck (https://katehouck3.wordpress.com/)

Blurry Reflection of Truth

In an unexpected time zone
Somewhere in the infinite,
I stand here straddling,
The known and the unknown,
There’s not a single sound.
Only a Blurry mind;
And lingering thoughts
Waiting for an unimaginable surprise.

Blurry pictures
Of life lived; though chaotic,
But truly beautiful.
Blurry moments
Of your lips entwined with mine
Rise and fall of our chests with every breath.
A relationship so real.
A secret that no ones knows.

Playing truant; words don’t get through
They’re just syllables now.
With a blurry mind and
Lingering thoughts…
As my eyes shut
I think to myself,
“I know I’ll be having trouble
Falling asleep…”

Ranjeeta Nath Ghai

(https://atrangizindagieksafar.wordpress.com/)

Somehow, Someday

Somedays when the heavens open up
Cupping my cup of coffee,
I open up my window
And watch rain fall again and again.
Rains; as they fall, fill up all the emptiness within.

Somedays there are nights when I wake up
And sit wondering
Without anything to do at all
About my purpose in life instead
And if things will always end the way they do.

Somedays I just lie in my bed
Surrender myself to laziness, and
To myself I say, “it’s for the best…
You’ve done enough for the week
And now’s the time for you to rest.”

But somedays I wake up
Wishing my loneliness to disappear
That you be near me, waking me up
Maybe just once
But I would like to wake up in your arms again.

Someday we will meet face to face.
I dreamt
That you and me will find each other again
Somehow. Then we’ll walk away,
Hand in hand, together.

Somedays I question myself
What I’m doing? If at all anything!
What I’m turning into and who I am?
Where am I going to find the answers to my problems?
When will I finally able to say I did something and am happy…

Somehow
Someday
I guess
All the jigsaw pieces
Shall fit. Someday…..

Ranjeeta Nath Ghai (https://atrangizindagieksafar.wordpress.com/)

 

No Words
You reach me;
no words needed.
I feel it intensely inside;
when you smile.
I am swept away
by your eyes.
My soul dances;
every moment I am near you.
(C)BJG (Blair Gaulton)Feb 2017 bjgaulton.wordpress.com

 

*Longing*

Like following Hansel’s bread crumbs,
Picking one at a time,
Is what it was like for him
To choose the right words
To confess his love
For her.

– Original-Dante ©2017

https://originaldante.wordpress.com/

 

One Day

And one day, she hoped…
these words of love,
would weave through the souls of strangers,
binding them together,
with threads of compassion,
spreading peace.

poetry copyright neha 2017

Neha (forgottenmeadows.wordpress.com)

 

Love Eternal

We are seekers of freedom,
Hope stirs in our waking bones,
Moving to places disturbed and
Discombobulated.
To be centered
In a world
Of hate
Takes the deepest folds
Of love
Of peace
Of understanding.

How much of
These are you
Willing to give?

I am in your heart,
It’s where I live.
I have been there
Since the beginning of
Time.
You have felt me
Ticking away at your soul,
Newness tap dancing in
Old form.
I bring thunder from the
Gods, dousing your core
With truths untold.

In this crazy world
Of use and take,
Depleting you is never
An option.
I only wish to fill
You up until the
Lines of your body
Burst at its seams.

I am love eternal.
Will you let me be Me
To You?

©Tremaine L. Loadholt 26February17

https://simplesoulsister.com

 

The hunger of youth
Consuming consummation
Smiles through its wrinkles

Tender contentment
In familiarity
Sees its reflection

Embers that once flamed
Passionate in summer’s heat
Now warm winter’s heart

Sue Vincent/ https://scvincent.com/

 

Nigella (Persian Jewels)

Spring yawns and sprays a gentle dew
on delicate green blades.
Winter’s heavy sigh retreats and April
washes the icy, pale grey canvas with lilacs,
reds and golden yellow as a regiment of buglers
play to the ripples moving below a bank
of tulips and crocus laying together;
their heads peeking out like lovers in the mist –
looking for summer, watching but never sleeping,
fading, but holding on – shrinking, but timidly
keeping a hold of the light
that singularly wraps around us both.

Anita Lubesh https://writingasitcomes.wordpress.com/

 

 

Cracks In The Soul

I remember hearing
‘I love you’
as if all that was said
and done
would be a matter of love.

Then grappled with
the confusion
trying to understand what
or whom was as capable
as love
to deliver it whole.

I found none.

When grandmother and I
arrived in Florida
I got sick
puked in my aunt’s living room
my aunt yelled but grandma
told her to shut up
and cleaned it.

I will remember that one kind act forever
by a loveless person.

I realized then
that love
was so large, so piercing
so strong and persistent
it could prevail its way
through the cracks of any soul.

And that far too often
we are disillusioned by the question,
Am I worth it?
But love always answers yes
even when
the best and worst people in our lives
fails the answer

© 2017 Tammy Mezera (https://tammymezera.wordpress.com

 

Oh Lord, heal our land

The Lion must nestle with the Lamb

The seeds of hate must go

The seeds of love we must sow

Oh Lord, grant us peace

And love, and sweet release

Give us compassion and concern

From others, may we learn

Oh Lord, make us wise

Give us kindness in our replies

Help us to find a common thread

Heal our fears, heal our dread

Give us grace, make us whole

Remind us that others, have a soul

Give us patience, make us meek

For there is strength, when we are weak

May the colors, blend and flow

May they form a mighty Rainbow

Arching gently in the sky

Healing our fears, by and by

Oh Lord, heal our land

On your promises, may we stand

Where we have injured, may we heal

May our brotherhood return with zeal

Oh Lord, heal our land

Make us one again.

2016, Carol Borrelli “Girlfriend’s Guide to Good Mental Health” smoothsailing289.com

 

Begin with three words.
Begin with faith, hope, charity.
Reflect on them.
Were we not raised with them?
Are we not told they summarize
the values of the Pilgrims,
the men and women who fled
persecution and immigrated
to pursue the promise of the
New World, of America?

Think about the three words
you see written into every billboard,
every magazine ad,
three words burning the phosphors
of every television screen
into your brain. Think about
envy, lust and greed.
Values to make America
great again.

Phillip T Stephens
ptstephens.com

Body Language

Love poems unravel at your kitchen table.
I watch your lips caress your mug
and know you would forbid one.
Phillip T Stephens
ptstephens.com

 

 

Love Isn’t Roses

or chocolates or flowery cards with rhymes
printed in Kansas City, Missouri,
even if you scribble an appended message
of adoration, or
wine and table d’hôte sitting across
from a candle in a dimly lit room where
others converse as well, and
it sure as hell isn’t swearing,
“Jesus loves you, and by the way
you should love him too” to anyone
who listens, it
requires leaving your true self at the door,
taking a towel and basin,
washing the feet of the terrorist you know
would rip your heart and family from you
and call it a moral victory;
putting his gun to your head and saying,
“Go ahead, pull the trigger if
it will salve your pain,” and,
even more difficult,
forgiving the asshole who calls you
a terrorist too.

Phillip T Stephens

http://www.ptstephens.com

You can’t love God and deny the dark corners of creation.
The earthquake will plunder your village more quickly than sunshine warms your home.
God loves the shark scavenging the underneath.
He sends her minnows, marlins, and, occasionally, one of us.
Those who dwell on God’s yellow happy face —
who picture his children as well-scrubbed and chubby —
will never love the battered child sitting on the porch
who spots the tabby sleeping in the sunlight
and kills it to vent her rage. They will turn their faces
from the child who sits on the curb, kicking at the leaves,
while she waits for her mother to score,
never understanding the fury furrowing her brow.
The children know you though. They watch you silently as
you tap your finger on your steering wheel,
fiddle with your stereo and pray for the light to turn.
To refuse to look into shadows is to discard pieces of the puzzle because you can’t accept the picture assembling before you. Believing love glosses any blemish, you stare in anger at the soul who brandishes her blemishes like beauty marks.
Every child we bear can kill as well as cuddle.
Some children, filled with rage, vent their rage on others.
Honest killers vent their rage with knives, spelling their anger on their victims’ flesh.
Devious killers dissect their victims with sharp remarks.
If you suckle the killer and send her on her way, massaging her esteem and ignoring the canker she nurtures, you become the killer yourself. When you feed the killer take his knife, keep him close, hug him until the hate drains from his heart and still keep him close.
Keep your body between your child and her victim while praising God for the chance to love the beautiful child he gave you.
The debris that gathers at your desk,
the detritus piling up in your in-box and
forcing you to change your focus to answer
this last minute memo asking why you never
delivered the report an earlier memo said to ignore,
forcing you to spend the next hour searching for the
original request that was actually made to
another department and only carbon copied to you;
the supplies delivery left on your chair but
meant for the office upstairs, leaving you with
no option but to cart two cases of 11×17
copier paper down the hall and up the stairs
so that you return to your desk just in time to
see a single flashing e-mail icon, which launches a memo
claiming the report is now one day overdue;
the debris, detritus, the endless paper trails suffocate your soul.
They trap you under microcosmic, micromanaged
microsignificant microcrises that kill by accumulation.
In those moments, when another work order stops your heart
and leaves you struggling for a single breath,
remember that God never created desks and that
his angels surround us even now, waiting for the
word to smite down personal computers,
slice through file drawers, smash and shatter
desks and nameplates and cubicle walls;
to smash the shackles of commerce at our ankles
so we may rise from our swivel chairs,
praise the Lord and rush from our parking lots to
our homes, our children, our gardens and parks,
to Bible study and prayer, to contemplate dharma,
to bow toward Mecca, to chant the Kaddish,
to light candles in prayer in the sanctuary we choose
to delight in God and escape the detritus of the day.Lord lead us to the work we love,
bring the poet to her poems, the artist to his canvas,
the mechanic to a car, the farmer to his field,
the builder to a lot, the carpenter to the house,
the healer to the woman with the lump in her breast
and no future, no comfort, no hope.
When the evil ones lure us off to find our fortunes and convince us money is our work’s reward, we sell our souls to commerce.
We lock our poems in desk drawers, tuck our sketches into briefcases and crunch out memos, fill out forms, process work orders and bow to suits who kowtow to designer suits who conspire to climb each other’s backs to the top of the corporate towers.
Work for pay wearies the soul, distracts us from our families, diverts us from our best moments, divides us into warring camps willing to kill each other for a prize we still lose when we die.
The work we love cultivates other lives.
Music brings joy, poems enlighten, houses give shelter, healing gives life.
The work we love is God’s work, laying bricks for others to build on, foundations that survive us.

originally published in Poems, Parables & Prayers for the Third Millennium (Austin, TX: Plain View Press, 2001). Out of print.

http://www.ptstephens.com

We dreamt of places where love lay lost,
beside the ocean we counted waves
hoping to feel the rush and change
in and out fluidly moving,
rhythmically the tide pushed to where we stood,
as the sun came close to curtain call
I felt your hand find mine,
leaning into you I felt the touch
lingering like the water rushing my legs,
pulling me into your gaze
drowning in the desire
knowing it would again come.
Love found like a treasure,
held like a child
carried in eternity.
By
Kim (zipsrid.wordpress.com)

 

But how do I tell you Son
About love
How do I tell you
The true meaning of it
I realised
Quiet late
This emotion
Which binds us always
How do I tell you
I can see people fading
like sepia tinted memories
I know slowly nothing
will remain just a
Book full of picture
Will hold all
How do I tell you
Why I write
The only way
To hold moments Son
how do I tell you
I can’t define still
Love but I see it
In your eyes
When you hold my hand
When you look for me
how do I tell you
how I cherish each moment
Each second
How much I love you Son ..
By
@notyet100 on twitter & instagram

 

Renga ~ Week 2 Results

The judging just keeps getting more difficult as nearly every haiku submitted this week could have been chosen for the Renga.

A few poems did not meet the 5-7-5 syllable requirement for this week. Remember, they will alternate between. 7-7 syllable couplet (this coming week’s required form) and the aforementioned 5-7-5 haiku.

Also, a couple were either a little too off topic, or did not diverge enough from the Hokku. Remember, each stanza is relevant only to the one immediately preceding and immediately following it. So that this week’s haiku should have pivoted away from the Hokku and only related to it in an oblique way.

Keep in mind that this is new to all of us. We are constantly consulting what references we have. But also, this is not a competition. Rather, it is a collaboration and whether your proffered poem is selected or not, you are helping to create the Renga.
That said, the poem chosen this week is:

An ancient turtle

basking on a verdant log

stretches to the sun 

From Janice at:

ontheland.wordpress.com

I hope her haiku inspires you to come up with a wonderful couplet for this week’s round.

Make sure to post your 7-7 couplets in the comments of the original Renga Party post by midnight eastern time (think New York). No other poems will be considered for inclusion in the Renga.

Thank you all so much for joining in this #poetsforpeace experience with us.

The Poet Trio

We’re Having a Party! ~ A Renga Party!

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day (1/15/2017)

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The Mission

We challenge you as Poets to use your words in the interest of peace.

Make your poems instruments of change in the world, a change toward universal peace. If you would use your words to cut, let it be with surgical precision that you use to cut out the cancer of hate.

Use your words as torches, not to burn down, but to light the way.

If you would use your words as bricks, use them not to hurl at one another, but lay them on the ground carefully from end to end to pave a road so that those behind you know the right direction and have an easier time getting to where you are.

Use them to build bridges not walls, schools and not prisons, homes and not homeless shelters.

If you must use your words as weapons, let it be to defend the defenseless, but in a way that does no harm and sets an example for others to follow.

Do not decimate your enemy with your words, but teach them that in ignorance there is only our own undoing, that we are stronger together than we could ever be divided.

Teach them that love is the reason we are here and that no matter who or what you believe, you are a brother and sister worthy of dignity and respect in this world that belongs to us all.

~
A Student of Peace

When we began last year’s collaboration, Martin Luther King Jr.’s legacy weighed heavily on my mind as did the man who inspired his peaceful movement, Mahatma Gandhi. There is much to be reminded of, learned, and put into practice from their examples in these trying times. Never before have we had such instant access to the violent images being broadcast from all around the world from the despicably violent behaviors of the ignorant, the greedy, and the hateful.
It is with the broader subject of peace in mind that we would like to initiate the first in a series of collaborative poems. We have chosen an ancient Japanese form of collaborative poetry, the Renga. For those who are unfamiliar with this form and wish to participate, please avail yourself of the following resource:

Jane Reichhold’s, Bare Bones School of Renga found on her website: www.ahapoetry. com


The Renga, or “Linked Verse,” as it translates roughly from Japanese, was the precursor of the Haiku, which draws it’s name from the initial stanza written for the Renga party. That 5-7-5 syllable stanza is known as the Hokku and is written by the Renga Master who then oversees all the subsequent stanzas written by Renga participants. Imagine a Tanka written by two people and then that continuing in alternating fashion.

Example: (This was written by one person, Michael, The Poetry Channel, and the attribution is simply for illustration.

~
Fog cloaks the forest

cedars bathe in autumn mist

the mountain is still

                              -The Poetry Channel

~

the sun rises on the coast

bright feathers flit in the trees

                              -Forgotten Meadows

~

Jays squawk in alarm

leap in the air in blue waves

feral felines prowl

                              -Writing Wings for You

~
Notice that the third stanza makes no sense in relation to the first. This discontinuation is an intentional aspect of the form meant to reflect the transience of existence.

~
The Renga Party Structure and Rules

Below is the Hokku from us, the Renga Masters

  • You must be signed in to comment and participate.
  • Upon completion, as is customary, the Renga belongs to all participants in its entirety.
  • You are invited to submit your proposed stanza via comments ON THIS POST ONLY a couplet in the requisite 7-7 syllable format. We will build the Renga one stanza at a time each week.
  • Submissions will alternate in the prescribed fashion 5-7-5 next week, 7-7 the week following,, etc. Comments will be open until Friday, January 20th at midnight EST at which point we will select the winner based on two criteria:
  • Most Likes will pare down the candidates, and the Renga Masters will then vote on which couplet best fits the original Hokku or preceding stanza.
  • Be sure to come back during the week and Like the proposed stanza from the other participants found in the comments you think is best.

The results will be published the following Sunday.

After that, we will alternate the stanzas as required by the form (and as previously stated), next will be a 5-7-5 haiku, and then a 7-7 couplet, and so on for as long as there are a healthy number of responses.

We will continue the Renga for as long as we have interest, but reserve the right to terminate the collaboration at any time we deem the poem has run its course or there is insufficient interest.

~
The Subject

We will begin with Compassion and Empathy.
However, one of the core tenants of the form is that each stanza only makes sense in relation to the stanza immediately before and immediately following. For that reason the Renga will take on a life of its own as each poet expresses themselves relevant to the guiding subjects, but particular to the preceding stanza. Make sense?
Below is the Hokku to get this party started. We look forward to reading you.

I Feel Your Pain

Clear crystal dew drops

cascade from weeping willows

filling the Koi pond

M. Zane McClellan

iridescent circles grow

a frog drinks the falling tears

Merril D. Smith Yesterday and today: Merril’s historical musings

An ancient turtle

basking on a verdant log

stretches to the sun

                                             Janice ontheland.wordpress.com

a heron’s wings lift and fall
one feather drifts slowly down

Ken from rivrlogr.wordpress.com

* Remember: You have until midnight (Eastern time, think New York) on the following Friday to post your response in the comments on this post (We’re Having a Party! ~ A Renga Party!) on this blog (Poetsforpeace.wordpress.com). No other submissions will be considered.


The result will be posted the next
Sunday and you can then submit your entry for the next stanza.

If your offering is not selected, please let it encourage you to contribute more. The very act of participating is one of community and we appreciate you joining with us to write for peaceful change in the world.

Copyright © 2017

All rights reserved

~
All images are in the public domain, license cc0, courtesy of pixabay.com

Happy New Poets for Peace

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Welcome to the new home of the 2017 Poets for Peace Collaboration. The primary purpose of the blog is to host and administer this year’s collaborative effort to coincide with the United Nation’s International Day of Peace, Thursday, September 21, 2017. Note: (Their website has not been updated to reflect the coming year’s activity, but we assume it will be shortly).

In addition we plan to hold one or two smaller collaborations on subjects that fall under the umbrella of Peace such as, Empathy, and/or Compassion. These smaller collaborations will, we hope, help to create a sense of community and stimulate involvement in the wider collaboration that will begin in July.

We welcome all Creative Souls to share your work here., be it poetry, art, photography, or whatever your mode of communicating Peace may be. Video and audio files are limited by the nature of the plan. YouTube videos and SoundCloud audio files can be shared via hyperlinks. If you know of another method of sharing media, please let us know.

The blog will be administered by Neha, from Forgottenmeadows.wordpress.com who graciously hosted last year’s collaboration and worked tirelessly to copy the poems of nearly two hundred poets into the collaboration that was made up of over two hundred fifty poems at the close of the collaboration; Marie, from WritingWingsforYou.com, who devoted the precious little time she had to track down contributors and secure their permission to publish their contribution as part of the collaboration, and was closely involved with the creation of the initial effort and the subsequent groups and concepts that that movement has engendered, such as the Facebook Group, Poets for Peace which we encourage you to join also; and me, Michael, from ThePoetryChannel.wordpress.com. I came up with the idea for the collaboration and then in the spirit of Tom Sawyer got Neha and Marie to whitewash the fence.

Our primary role here is to administer the poetry collaborations and to facilitate the community that we hope to create, our Tribe of Creative Souls, of which we invite you to become a part.

All that we ask is that no hateful expressions of any kind be shared here. Inadvertently derogatory comments and poetry/art will not be shared. Repeated offenses will result in the banning of the user from this website.

We are an inclusive Tribe!

Look for announcements about future collaborations. Anything you wish to share will have to be via comments so that we can moderate for the time being. Anyone interested in contributing, please let us know.

We look forward to expanding the outreach to include more countries this year.

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Photo Credit: Neha Dasgupta-Parmar

To view and/or download the PDF of last year’s collaboration, please visit Praxis Magazine for Arts and Literature.