haiku my heart

 

in the dappled dark

place a poem upon your lips

then.savor.slowly.

 

ON HOW TO PICK AND EAT POEMS


Stop whatever it is you’re doing.
Come down from the attic.
Grab a bucket or a basket and head for light.
That’s where the best poems grow, and in the dappled dark.

Go slow. Watch out for thorns and bears.
When you find a good bush, bow to it, or take off your shoes.
Then pluck. This poem. That poem. Any poem.
It should come off the stem easy, just a little tickle.
No need to sniff first, judge the color, test the firmness.
You’ll only know it’s ripe if you taste.

So put a poem upon your lips. Chew its pulp.
Let its juice spill over your tongue.
Let your reading of it teach you
what sort of creature you are
and the nature of the ground you walk upon.
Bring your whole life out loud to this one poem.
Eating one poem can save you, if you’re hungry enough.

When birds and deer beat you to your favorite patch,
smile at their familiar appetite, and ramble on.
Somewhere another crop waits for harvest.
And if your eye should ever light upon a cluster of poems
hanging on a single stem, cup your hand around them
and pull, without greed or clinging.
Some will slip off in your palm.
None will go to waste.

Take those you adore poem-picking when you can,
even to the wild and hidden places.
Reach into brambles for their sake,
stain your skin some shade of red or blue,
mash words against your teeth, for love.
And always leave some poems within easy reach
for the next picker, in kinship with the unknown.

If you ever carry away more than you need,
go on home to your kitchen, and make good jam.
No need to rush, the poems will keep.
Some will even taste better with age,
a rich batch of preserves.

Store up jars and jars of jam. Plenty for friends.
Plenty for the long, howling winter. Plenty for strangers.
Plenty for all the bread in this broken world.

phyllis cote-dai

 

haiku my heart

 

for seven years

i have been setting out chairs

in the house of belonging.

 

each thursday evening i begin

never knowing who will arrive,

or what will be your hearts song.

fifty two fridays times seven years-

three hundred and sixty four haiku circles.

and everyone of them has held the

gift of inclusion and caring.

 

 

"plenty for friends.

plenty for strangers.

plenty for all the bread

in this broken world."

 

please.be tender.open your hearts.

be kinder. make your precious jam

and share it with the world.

 

 

 

even in darkness-

 

tiny jubilant love

xo

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Comments

[Lea]

Savoring... chewing slowly... feeling all the places where these past years of small words have changed me on a cellular level. How I revel in this jam making and the tasting of such delicious fruits each Friday, from you Rebecca and the circle that gathers, seen and unseen. How grateful am I for these meals that have nourished me when I could go no further than seventeen syllables... and sometimes when I could not even utter a single word... my own brokenness covered in the sweetness of our haiku and love and respect for each other. I love you with all my heart dear friend. XO

[judie]

All I can say is a repeat...I repeat again...your words and your heart are simply awesome. I love coming here and reading what you have found, what you have imagined, what you are inside. Thank you...again...Rebecca, for bringing this simple person called "me" peace and joy on Fridays and special meaning to the day. xo

[Lisa at Greenbow]

I can imagine your gatherings of peace. How blessed are these people to have you. Peace.

[artmusedog and carol]

Wonderful post as always ~ inspiring for me and uniting us together ~ lovely haiku and creative photo ~ thanks,

Wishing you a Happy and Fun weekend ~ ^_^

[Magical Mystical Teacher]

Bread in a broken world--what a wonder-filled image!

[Reading Pleasure]

The gift of love, of sharing, of generosity, of warmth. That is you, Rebecca. What beautiful sentiments you have expressed above. God bless you.

[gemma]

Much love and appreciation to you dear Rebecca, your words and light have helped guide so many of us through the darkness in our broken world, and shown us beauty.
LOVE you.

[Anne Jeffries]

This made me so happy. That is exactly how mine come.

[Mark]

I'm always glad to sit on one of the chairs in the house of belonging. Thanks for making them available!

[Anne]

Life is so sacred in the smallest thing. Sacred and precious.