To All My Relations – THANK YOU!
February 1st, 2016 | Posted by in POETRY FOR WOMEN | RETIRED FEATURE POSTS
Women, please join me during the month of February to read and use the following Lakota Sioux Prayer as a mantra of spreading, peace, love, and gratitude.
MITAKUYE OYASIN: A LAKOTA SIOUX PRAYER
Aho Mitakuye Oyasin….All my relations. I honor you in this circle of life with me today. I am grateful for this opportunity to acknowledge you in this prayer.
To the Creator, for the ultimate gift of life, I thank you.
To the mineral nation that has built and maintained my bones and all foundations of life experience, I thank you.
To the plant nation that sustains my organs and body and gives me healing herbs for sickness, I thank you.
To the animal nation that feeds me from your own flesh and offers your loyal companionship in this walk of life, I thank you.
To the human nation that shares my path as a soul upon the sacred wheel of Earthly life, I thank you.
To the Spirit nation that guides me invisibly through the ups and downs of life and for carrying the torch of light through the Ages, I thank you.
To the Four Winds of Change and Growth, I thank you.
You are all my relations, my relatives, without whom I would not live. We are in the circle of life together, co-existing, co-dependent, co-creating our destiny. One, not more important than the other. One nation evolving from the other and yet each dependent upon the one above and the one below. All of us a part of the Great Mystery.
Thank you for this Life.
Thank you!
New Beginnings
~ Gertrude B. McClain
I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t do it all.
I can’t be all things to all people At all times and under all circumstances.
I can’t be the one to always change my plans to suit another’s.
I can’t be the one to pick up after others all the time.
I can’t work all day and stop at the grocery and cook dinner And have it ready by 6:30.
I can’t carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.
I need some support, too, and a rest.
I can’t; can’t, can’t cantaloupe, can’t canticle, can’t cantilever,
Cantina, cantata, cantankerous, cannon,
Canape, canard, candelabra, can… can…,
Can I? Can I just do it? Can I do it all?
Can I ration my time to allow for my priorities?
Can I ask others to share the burdens?
Can I refuse this role of superwoman?
Can I just ‘say no?’ I can. I can just say no.
I can just say, “I’m out of the business of doing it all.”
I can take time for myself to breathe
And dream or just sit quietly.
And I will!
Who Am I
I am a woman that is black and beautiful inside and out, filled with joy and pride.
I am a woman as graceful as a butterfly; a woman that can be seen and heard.
I am a woman that is cunning, a woman of skill and knowledge.
Who Am I
I am a woman with strength, to knock down any boundaries keeping me from my journeys of life.
I am a woman that dreams to have a life of an angel with never ending love and happiness.
I am a woman that’s your lover and friend, and keeps you feeling loved and secure.
Who Am I 
I am a woman of respect and admiration; respecting and admiring mind, body and soul.
I am a woman with a passionate kiss and lips as soft as fresh rose petals.
I am a woman, leaving you wanting and wishing for more.
Who Am I
I am a woman with a charm that’s as radiant as the sunshine.
I am a woman full of laughter, giggles and grins, which is the medicine of the soul.
I am a woman with my own identity, look into my eyes and you’ll see who I am.
~Created from Shayla Parks’ Poem
The laughter of women sets fire
to the Halls of Injustice
and the false evidence burns
to a beautiful white lightness
It rattles the Chambers of Congress
and forces the windows wide open
so the fatuous speeches can fly out
The laughter of women wipes the mist
from the spectacles of the old;
it infects them with a happy flu
and they laugh as if they were young again
Prisoners held in underground cells
imagine that they see daylight
when they remember the laughter of women
It runs across water that divides,
and reconciles two unfriendly shores
like flares that signal the news to each other
What a language it is, the laughter of women,
high-flying and subversive.
Long before law and scripture
we heard the laughter, we understood freedom.
~ Lisel Mueller
Poetry for Women-’The Perpetual Migration’
June 19th, 2015 | Posted by in POETRY FOR WOMEN
What does the word migration mean to you? Is there something in your life that calls for migrating? Migration is movement from one part of something to another. Jean Shinoda Bolen, MD, included excerpts from the following poem in her book, Artemis The Indomitable Spirit in Everywoman.
The Perpetual Migration
How do we know where we are going?
How do we know where we are headed
till we in fact or hope or hunch
arrive? you can only criticize,
the comfortable say, you don’t know
what you want. Ah, but we do.
We have swung in the green verandas
of the jungle trees. We have squatted
on cloud-grey granite hillsides where
every leaf drips. We have crossed
badlands where the sun is sharp as flint.
We have padded into the tall dark sea
in canoes. We always knew.
Peace, plenty, the gentle wallow
of intimacy, a bit of Saturday night
and not too much Monday morning,
a chance to choose, a chance to grow,
the power to say no and yes, pretties
and dignity, an occasional jolt of truth.
The human brain, wrinkled slug, knows
like a computer, like a violinist, like
a bloodhound, like a frog. We remember
backwards a little and sometimes forwards,
but mostly we think in the ebbing circles
a rock makes on the water.
The salmon hurtling upstream seeks
the taste of the waters of its birth
but the seabird on its four-thousand-mile
trek follows charts mapped on its genes.
The brightness, the angle, the sighting
of the stars shines in the brain luring
till inner constellation matches outer.
The stark black rocks, the island beaches
of wave worn pebbles where it will winter
look right to it. Months after it set
forth it says, home at last, and settles.
Even the pigeon beating its short whistling
wings knows the magnetic tug of arrival.
In my spine a tidal clock tilts and drips
and the moon pulls blood from my womb.
Driven as a migrating falcon, I can be blown
off course yet if I turn back it feels
wrong. Navigating by chart and chance
and passion I will know the shape
of the mountains of freedom, I will know.
~Marge Piercy (The Moon Is Always Female, 1980)
“She Is A Woman!”
May 7th, 2015 | Posted by in POETRY FOR WOMEN
She Is A Woman!
Woman is made great in gentleness
Woman is tender and soft in her acts
Woman speaks with deep sincerities
Woman expresses herself in kind ways
Woman assures everything is alright when it is not
Woman stands for her poise though there is doubt
Woman loves passionately like there is no end to it
Woman comforts even when a situation turns worst
Woman always stood for her precious
Woman always choose to be generous
Woman never point fingers at her betrayer
Woman never says no to a pleading stranger
She is a woman who remains anonymous
She is a woman who is indeed magnanimous!
~Jeline Loh
(Women poems found PoemHunter.com)
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