mindfulness poetry
|
| only when
i'm
quiet and do not speak |
Jane
Hirshfield |
| slowly (after
Henry David Thoreau |
Jane
Wilding
|
| when i am
among
the trees |
Mary
Oliver
|
| you don't
have
to be the best |
Jeff
Foster
|
| a room
|
Jane
Hirshfield |
| to look at
any
thing |
John
Moffit
|
| mindful
|
Mary
Oliver
|
| invitation |
Mary
Oliver |
| making the
house ready for the lord |
Mary
Oliver |
feeling poetry
|
anger
|
| for warmth
|
Thich Nhat
Hahn |
| grass |
Mary Oliver
|
| anger |
David Whyte
|
emotional holding
|
| what i need from
you |
Jeff Foster
|
| when you feel
hurt
inside |
Jeff Foster
|
| when anger
surges,
as it will, can you stay close |
Jeff
Foster
|
| healing
hurts.
but what hurts more is |
Jeff
Foster
|
sorrow
|
| it's not the end
of
the world. just the end of a |
Jeff Foster
|
| acid |
Mary Oliver
|
| love
sorrow
|
Mary
Oliver
|
| red onions,
cherries, boiling potatoes, milk |
Jane
Hirshfield |
| hurt is a
portal
|
Jeff Foster
|
| no time ago or
else a
life |
e.e. cummings
|
| aloneness
|
Jeff
Foster
|
| tell your
fucking
truth |
Jeff Foster
|
open-hearted
|
| our new
spirituality |
Jeff Foster
|
| to the sensitive
ones |
Jeff Foster
|
| the guest
house
|
Rumi |
depression
|
| sacred
exhaustion |
Jeff
Foster |
self-compassion
|
| the
journey
|
Mary
Oliver
|
| the
heart-pounding
truth |
Jeff Foster
|
connection
|
| an hour is the
sea |
Emily
Dickinson
|
| here is the
deepest
secret |
e.e. cummings
|
| we are both and
oneful |
e.e. cummings
|
| most of all
|
James
Kavenaugh
|
| two ways to
heal
|
Jeff Foster
|
compassion
|
| kindness
|
Naomi Shihab
Nye |
| when you sit
with a
friend in pain |
Jeff F an Matt
L
|
fear
|
| today near
eventide i did lead |
Opal
Whitley
|
| there are two
core
fears |
Jeff Foster
|
gratitude
|
| the place i
want to
get back to |
Mary Oliver
|
listening poetry
|
| keeping
quiet |
Pablo
Neruda |
| yes, we can
talk
|
Mark Nepo
|
| stop trying
to
fix me. love me instead |
Jeff
Foster
|
love poetry
|
| little dog's
rhapsody in the night |
Mary Oliver
|
| blue iris |
Mary Oliver
|
| hourglass: a last
love poem |
Nancy Levin
|
| aimless
love
|
Billy
Collins
|
| west wind #2
|
Mary Oliver
|
| flowers |
Wendy Cope |
| Verona |
James Wright
|
| the ever-crumbling
edge |
Jeff Foster
|
| love sonnet
XVII
|
Pablo Neruda
|
| Love constant
beyond death |
Francisco
Gomez de
Quevedo |
maturing poetry
|
| the old poets of
China
|
Mary Oliver
|
| Candide
(musical)
|
|
| art of
disappearing
|
Naomi Shihab
Nye
|
| my eyes already
touch the sunny hill
|
Rainer Maria
Rilke
|
| one source of
bad information
|
Robert
Bly
|
| a humbling
path
|
Jeff
Foster
|
| desiderata
|
Max
Ehrmann
|
| out of
hiding
|
Li-Young
Lee
|
| looking
for
a
monk and not finding him |
Li Po
|
| this is
meditation:
not trying to get anywhere |
Jeff
Foster
|
| meditation
|
Jeff
Foster
|
| meditation
is
the breaking |
Jeff
Foster |
| a thousand
prostrations |
Allen
Hoey
|
| a place to
sit
|
Kabir |
| we can make our
minds
so like still water |
W.B. Yeats
|
| egrets
|
Mary
Oliver
|
| a cedary
fragrance |
Jane
Hirshfield
|
| an open
sky
|
Rumi |
| love
dervishes |
Rumi
|
trauma poetry
|
loss
|
| how swiftly
the
strained honey |
Lisel
Mueller
|
grief
|
| and the medicine
now
is naked, choiceless |
Jeff Foster
|
| we all have tender
places |
Jeff Foster
|
| the well of
grief
|
David Whyte
|
| let this darkness
be
a bell tower |
Rainer Maria
Rilke |
| there is a place
in
the heart that |
Charles
Bukowski
|
trauma
|
| at the heart of all
trauma |
Jeff Foster
|
| the
shattering |
Jeff
Foster
|
| aftermath
9/11
|
David Whyte
|
| wild geese
|
Mary Oliver
|
death poetry
|
| white owl flies
into
and out of the field |
Mary Oliver
|
| when death
comes
|
Mary Oliver
|
| death |
Anonymous |
| for Jennifer
dying
on her twelfth birthday |
Stephen
Levine
|
| Plum Village
chanting |
Thich Nhat
Hahn |
| love constant
beyond death |
de
Quevado
|
stillness poetry
|
| the whole
class
is talking |
Adam
Cookie
|
| keeping
quiet |
Pablo
Neruda |
| yes, we can
talk
|
Mark Nepo
|
| utterance-that-rises-briefly-from-the-source |
Mark
Nepo
|
| the buddha
in
glory |
Rainer Maria
Rilke |
being poetry>
|
| long
afternoon
at the edge of little sister pond |
Mary
Oliver
|
| praying |
Mary Oliver
|
| one night there's
a
heartbeat at the door |
Clarissa
Pinkola-Estes |
| genuine
broken
heart |
Pema Chödrön
|
| i said to my soul,
be
still |
T.S. Elliot |
| turned
outward
and not toward |
Rainer Maria
Rilke |
| enough |
David Whyte
|
| this world
|
Mary Oliver
|
| the Buddha's
last
instruction |
Mary Oliver
|
| requiem of
cycles and dreaming |
Frank Owen
Jr
|
| anam cara
|
John
O'Donohue
|
| the seven of
pentacles |
Marge Piercy
|
| if you knew |
Ellen Bass |
| i am a little church
(no
great cathedral) |
e.e. cummings |
| to be
nobody-but-yourself |
e.e. cummings
|
| how to be happy
|
Stephen Dunn
|
| when i am old
|
Jenny Joseph
|
| the layers
|
Stanley
Kunitz
|
| the bud |
Galway Kinnell
|
| tonight |
Ian McCallum
|
| and yet, though we
strain |
Rainer Maria
Rilke
|
| god speaks to
each
of us |
Rainer Maria
Rilke |
| Hokusai
says
|
Roger S.
Keyes
|
haiku
|
| from now on |
Basho |
| eyes, you have seen
all
|
|
| to the willow |
|
| smell of autumn |
|
| veiled by grey
showers
|
|
| still pond |
|
| no oil to read by |
|
| autumn |
|
| after bells had rung
and
were silent |
|
| an autumn eve |
|
| the world of dew
|
Issa |
| cuckoo sings |
|
| reflected |
|
| under cherry
trees
|
|
| four and fifty years
|
Dogen |
| coming, going, the
waterfowl |
|
| autumn wind |
Onitsura |
| twenty years a
pilgrim |
Chiju |
| a rootless tree
|
Kyonin |
| serving the shogun in
the
capital |
Kodo |
| fallen leaves
|
Taigi |
| beyond
serenity
|
|
| returning |
Bakusui |
| barn's burnt down
|
Masahide |
| in this warm spring
rain
|
Buson |
| a camellia dropped
|
Buson |
| such a moon
|
Buson |
| short nap
|
Buson |
| the dragonfly
|
Kokyo |
| leaf
|
Kikoso |
| when you're both alive
and dead
|
Bunan |
| shrine gate |
Kikaku |
| sitting quiet, doing
nothing |
Zen saying |
| the mountain —
Buddha's
body |
Satoba |
| Talking: seven
steps,
eight falls |
Shishin-Goshin
|
| contending |
Kito |
| piled for burning
|
Boncho |
