Poetry as a spirtual journey
I have discovered that highly spiritual people are also strongly creative. There is a place in our soul that longs to express our true self. When we let it, it comes out creatively.

This page contains poems from two of my favorite people. All of these poems were read first at the Intuitive forum and were so popular that I decided to publish them here.

Janelle Timber-Jones is a member of the Northern Cheyenne Tribe. She is currently employed at the Minneapolis American Indian Center's Chemical Dependency program as a Prevention Intervention Specialist for Youth and also works with recovering women. Her poems are a marvelous reminder of joy and strength and recovery. You can e-mail Janelle at oneheart@helloworld.com

Dan Schreier is the " poet laureate" of the Intuitive forum. At a young age Dan's soul speaks through his words.

Enjoy!

I Am No Longer Waiting For Permission To:
by Janelle Timber-Jones

I am no longer waiting for permission to speak my truth. I am no longer waiting for permission to hear my truth. I give myself permission to hear it clearly, like wind through the trees, like a hailstorm leaving dents on a tin roof, like a small child laughing. I give myself permission to hear these things and to acknowledge them with my heart, my spirit, my mind, all working together. I give myself permission to stop the fighting, the ignoring, and the condescension betwixt the three.

I am no longer waiting for permission to use my creative energy as I choose. Rather than continue to squelch this continuous creative flow in hopes of having the clean house, the laundry done, or completion of any other mundane task, I allow myself creative freedom to overtake me on a beautiful creative day. I am no longer waiting for permission to be with myself fully and completely. I give myself permission to write to paint to dance to chat to run to listen to music to buy flowers to eat junk food on occasion without feeling guilty. I give myself permission to live my life fully in my body, in this body, this Goddess given beautiful piece of work, this beautiful bit of wonder.

I am no longer waiting for permission to lay down my weapons of self destruction, my sharp tongue, my heavy anger guise, my stay the hell away body language that does "the trick", but does naught for me.

I am no longer waiting for permission to relieve myself of the burden of transgenerational sadness and grief that has permeated my being for most of this life. I will no longer dwell in the sadness of my ancestors - I will honor them and the horrific hardship and strife they endured, but I will no longer carry that deep sad burden in my bones. I choose life, I choose to live.

My mother's pain is hers, my grandmother's pain is hers, and my great-grandmother's pain is hers. I promise to tell their stories, truthfully, wholly, to the best of my heart and soul. which includes their sadness. I also choose to include their joy, their beauty, their fortitude, their genius, all of which has been granted me through birth. Ha-ho. Thank you. I wouldn't want it any other way...

On My Deathbed
by Janelle Timber-Jones

Here is a shout out to you all
All my Lovers...
My Husband(s), my sweet Sons and Daughters,
My Grandmas and my Grandpas,
My Mothers and my Fathers,
All the Boys and Girls,
All the Women, and of course, all of the Men
From Lame Deer to Heaven and
Back again.

Good, bad, right, wrong, happy, sad
You are all relative or.....A relative
I love, I love you, I loved you, always.
You will always be a friend of mine.
You touched my heart in ways that only you knew how to,
And,
I am blessed to have had you in my life.
I am blessed to have had you, in many places, and
Of course, you know,

In my bed, in my arms,
On the couch talking, bawling my eyes out and
You putting them back in again
And vice versa
Thank you.
And not surprisingly,
On the floor, talking and laughing until our bellies hurt.


And in the kitchen, my eyes meeting yours
and vice versa.
The knowing, platonic or not
What beautiful moments, we have wrought.
Do you know what you've meant to me?

Ah, I feel it in my belly now, that Love
That simple, simple, sweet, beautiful Love
What more could I have wanted this time around?

I certainly will know you again.

Stumbling
By Dan Schreier
Stumbling

Move softly across the desert sand,
how do things grow in the palm of your hand?
Any idea of this is meant to be shared,
Find those that understand and you won't be scared.

An opening in the sky, looks so certain,
hiding behind a cloud covered curtain.
Its the last act, and were anxious to see,
Does this upcoming encore involve you and me?

Regardless of age orientation or birthplace,
were all in this together a rat race is a rat race.
Its becoming so much easier, to find the joy.
Like a child on christmas opening a new toy.

The love in your eyes attracts the right things,
no more inhibition step forth and sing.
Losing control is scary, unless done with those you trust,
finding yourself now is important, do it you must.

Held down, so others won't feel humbled,
but now my time is here.
To soar and teach people to get up,
after they have stumbled.

A Small Intervention
by Robert Gragg
A small Intervention
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊ
In the back yard the sun
Is unrelenting; it bakes the ground
Into an over done biscuit!
There is no shade here; I have no
Extra money to shape the landscape;
To plant the Heavenly
Blue Morning Glory or
The Rose that lives abundantly
In the California landscape. Everything
Is as spartan as an old Buddhist
Monastery. There are only weeds and
Rocks and a blue sky that frames the Hawk
Ready to swoop down on an old friend sunning
Himself on the brown rock.
He is "Old Leatherback," a lizard who
Shares my residence. He keeps to
Himself, minds his business
And dines on insects. He comes out
Frequently and spies me looking
Curiously at him. What does he think
About this?Ê He has no idea
Of the danger, a Dark AngelÊ ready
To carve his carcass into a meal with
Sharp blackish talons.
My little friend is just a harmless Buddha.
I intervene and throw a rock his way,
Breaking, unintentionally, the long
Placid friendship that has existed
Between us these past months. He is safe
For now until he ventures out again onto
His place in the sun. Does he know?
No, of course not; His reptilian brain is not
Programmed for such human moralities.
He has no idea his short little life has
Been saved or the Buddhist merit he has
Added to my own life.
Life is full of such interventions but
We know them only as inconveniencies;
Something that got in the way, that
Changed our trajectory.
And what of the Hawk? I did it no favor by
Prolonging its hunger. Perhaps the
Merit gained is now taken away. I am forced to
Wonder how many times I have intervened
In others lives and how others may
have intervened in mine.
What possible difference does it
Make to the Universe if Old Leatherback
Lives or dies; what possible matter to me
Is this small intervention?
Ê
Robert Gragg
9/29/07