Monday, July 31, 2006

Dispelling Our Illusion
By Don Iannone

Listen to yourself.
Not just the words
...but also the images
...rising and falling
in your mind.
They seem as many
...but not so.
There is only one.
You are that.
I am that.
Don't torment yourself
with meaningless riddles
...about this and that.
Rid yourself
...of anything that appears more or less than one
...for it is illusion.
All notions of separateness
...whether labeled as good or bad nothing but feed the ego self
...which is self-perpetuating
...and feeds on its creations
...including all others it births.
Move beyond your pain
...whatever your angst realizing you are its creator
...and as such can end it releasing all thoughts of self
...and resting in peace your own emptiness.
For there
...and only there
...the boundary between peace and yourself ends.
Mother Nature Cries Out!

Global warming is a reality. Look about you. The weather patterns have shifted dramatically. Mother Nature is doing the best she can to re-gain balance. There is no second chance when she falls and cannot get back up. We must help her in whatever way we can. Walk lightly on the earth.
We Think We Are So Smart
By Don Iannone

Have you ever noticed around certain things
......each of us thinks
.........we are so smart?

How well do you know yourself?
Sitting in Contemplation

Humans born into this floating world
Quickly become like the roadside dust:
At dawn small children,
By sunset already grown white-haired,
Without inner understanding,
They struggle without cease.
I ask the children of the universe:
For what reason do you pass this way?

- Ryokan

Sunday, July 30, 2006

Taking Flight
By Don Iannone

to fly
unpack your suitcase
let go of your briefcase
strip down completely naked
surrender to your wings of lightness
Our Wholeness
By Don Iannone

Nobody can give you
what only you
must give yourself
to become whole.
Friday Nights
By Don Iannone

Friday nights always special to me,
like wonderful short vacations by the sea,
they encourage me to freely be
laughingly happy and youthfully carefree.

Even when I'm gnarled and old,
never shall I stop or to fold,
I'll continue to get wild and bold,
on Fridays always, no time is told.

High school years brought girls and dates,
so much fun now no one appreciates,
sadly true your pain today complicates,
but even still Friday fun with your mates.

College days were amazingly wild and crazy
never did we have a moment to be lazy,
like Dirty Dancing with Patrick Swayze,
so much fun, Saturdays got quite hazy.

After long workdays and so much pain,
at the bar we sat and went totally insane,
we drank and flirted and we were so vain,
we forgot about our joints aching in pain.

Things slowed down as we got older
cry we did on each other's shoulder,
and Fridays seemed a bit to smolder,
but beauty still in the eye of the beholder.

No dancing till two at week's end now,
no longer Friday evenings on the prowl,
but still some drinks and good chow,
and at times we have a really good howl.

Friday is a permanent piece of me,
full of memories that set me free,
every day I wish Friday to be,
and always on Friday most happy shall I be.

Saturday, July 29, 2006

Flitter in the Storm
By Don Iannone

As thunder roars
and lightning strikes
courage grows
and morning breaks.
Amidst it all
songbird sings
and from that moment
life forever rings.
Moving On
By Don Iannone

Let yourself go,
in ways you never have before.
Gather your power,
within the seat of your soul.
Unleash the real you,
the one that has been hiding in the cellar.
The one dying to be you,
the one that almost died--
for want of validation.
Don't wait till you're too old,
and it takes all you have
just to fetch the newspaper--
from the front porch
you spend too much time sitting on.
just because it's familiar doesn't make it right.
And please don't look back,
you might see the ghosts
you left for a real life.

Friday, July 28, 2006

Riddle about the Returning Seer
By Don Iannone

There are those
walking among us
who see things
we simply don't,
and at times they see things
they can't acknowledge,
for one reason or another.
She's back--
the seer who pains want
for life in whole thanksgiving,
and whose lifelong pain
makes her greatness,
like the all too important clouds
that make an unforgettable sunset.
The seer sees beyond
what the normal eye
can possibly behold.
She sees on a clear level,
like that which
the perfectly blue sky
seeks to emulate.
She sees
without looking
and she sees what
our denseness misses
because its imperviousness
lingers like a deep fog
upon the inner eye.
We welcome her back,
and ready for the next step.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

The Word Charmer
By Don Iannone

Cobra-like words
dancing on empty unlined pages,
Following their creator's hand
side to side and up and down,
Merging briefly with the hand
that feeds them,
Tempted at times to bite it,
then quickly dancing away,
At times, mouthing the words
with slippery pointed tongue
and thick red lips--so large
even the dictionary could hide behind them,
Releasing them finally like soft bubbles
drifting in thin air,
Charming hard women into ladies
and calloused men into well-mannered young boys,
Words snaking their way inside you,
making you squirm and shudder
as they fill your heart,
As they bring back the dead part of you,
buried long ago but never forgotten,
Beware the word charmer--
he becomes you and you become him.
Giving Thanks for Mystery
By Don Iannone

Life's mysteries
have a way
of tumbling out
when you least expect them,
telling me
it's all just one big mystery.

So why be surprised
that life happens
when it does
where it does
and how it does?

Just be thankful.
I Want to Say
By Natalie Goldberg

Before I'm lost to time and the midwest
I want to say I was here
I loved the half light all winter
I want you to know before I leave
that I liked the towns living along the back of the Mississippi
I loved the large heron filling the sky
the slender white egret at the edge of the shore
I came to love my life here
fell in love with the color grey
the unending turn of seasons

Let me say
I loved Hill City
the bench in front of the tavern
the small hill to the lake
I loved the morning frost on the bell in New Albin
and the money I made as a poet
I was thankful for the white night
the sky of so many wet summers
Before I leave this whole world of my friends
I want to tell you I loved the rain on large store windows
had more croissants here in Minneapolis
than the French do in Lyons
I read the poets of the midwest
their hard crusts of bread dark goat cheese
and was nourished not hungry where they lived
I ate at the edges of state lines and boundaries

Know I loved the cold the tap of bare branches against windows
know there will not be your peonies in spring
wherever I go
the electric petunias
and your orange zinnias

Poet Profile: Natalie Goldberg is a poet, teacher, writer, and painter. A student of Zen Buddhism for 24 years, she trained intensively with Katagiri Roshi for 12 years, and is ordained in the Order of Interbeing with Thich Nhat Hanh. Natalie Goldberg teaches writing workshops nationally based on the methods presented in Writing Down the Bones. Her other books include Wild Mind; Long Quiet Highway; Banana Rose; and Living Color.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Through Summer We Passed and Met
By Don Iannone

Summer...fading fast
like a shooting star
racing ahead of us.
Summer...almost gone
like a part of you
leaving me
before our love is past.
Summer...crossing over
like a bridge
we walked
more than once
to find ourselves
in each other.
Summer...longer days
and shorter nights
with more dark secrets
spilling forth
on a freshly woven canvas
waiting to dry
like fresh rain
on thirsty desert sand.
I'll always know you
even when we pretend
to be strangers
in an altogether familiar scene.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Forest Oneness
By Don Iannone

Forest green,
Abundant with life,
Overflowing with beauty,
Filling all who receive it
without judgment or question,
Healing what is broken--
inside and out,
Asking nothing in return,
Expecting only that we experience what is there,
without imposing anything,
or taking anything away,
except for our experience.

Suddenly the trees disappear,
and I see myself as a part of it all.

Monday, July 24, 2006

Love Haiku
By Don Iannone

nurture love always
give it freely to others
let love be your guide

love is noonday sun
let it fill you head to toe
its warmth heals all wounds

when all else fails, love
turn your pain over to it
let it shelter you
Daily Zen

Searching for Gathered Fragrance Temple:
Miles of mountains rise into clouds,
Ancient trees darken the narrow trail.
Where is that mountain temple bell?

Snowmelt crashes down on boulder,
The sun grows cold in the pines before
It drowns in the lake. Keep your karma
In good working order:
Many dragons lie in wait.

- Wang Wei (710-761)
By Don Iannone

Love is
as simple as
smiling at yourself in the mirror.

Love is
the best thing to do
when you don't know what to do.

Love is
the best gift to give
when you have no idea what to give.

Love is
always the right answer
to any question.

Love is
all that you are
including those parts you don't want to see.

Love is
there inside you
even when you feel loveless and unloved.

Love is
our only real calling in life.
Listen to its call.

Sunday, July 23, 2006

Mountaintop Haiku
By Don Iannone

high above the world
a place to look up and down
you are the looker

at the top thin air
practice nondoing today
save even your breath

climbing the mountain
life above and below you
the moment greets you
Near Night Moment
By Don Iannone

The sunset bleeds a delicate rainbow
of oranges, yellows, pinks, and reds
across the fading blue summer Arizona sky.
Just barely within ear shot,
the first coyote yelps in approval
of the melting pastel masterpiece.
His voice, like the moment holding it,
follows the wind and the sun into the west,
where all are swallowed by the hungry night.
Dark edges form along the tree tops,
haunting them with secrets
that the night will hide until morning.
A slight breeze gathers out of nowhere,
carrying the scent of wild sage and sweet acacia,
stinging our noses with pleasure.
Daybreak will bring an even more spectacular sunrise,
but my heart longs to hold this near-night moment forever.
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

--Nelson Mandela in his 1994 inaugural speech.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

Pause and consider this...

"To the world you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world."

--Brandi Snyder
One Hot July Morning
By Don Iannone

White-hot July sun drops beat
like a heavy rain of fire bricks
on the flower garden
nestled along the white picket fence.
Normally spry orange day lilies and passion pink wild roses
droop for cover
as Monsieur Soleil tightens his grip
on all in his path.
The Huck Finn-looking young lad next door
sits bentover, like a limp rag, in the steamy grass
picking his dirty toes in silence.
Even the red-throated hummingbird's wings
are quiet and motionless
sensing the danger of spontaneous combustion
with the slightest movement.
Waves of oppressively hot air
waft into the open kitchen window
crushing my usual desire for morning coffee
or anything short of a freezing-cold lime popsicle.
I think only of standing naked for hours in a cold shower.

Friday, July 21, 2006

The Spaces We Try to Fill
By Don Iannone

Nothing there
...except what we write
...into the space inside us
...that grows the more we fill it.
Habitual humming thoughts.
One to the other and the other
...that doesn't really exist
...except as a space holder for another.
There is no other--
other than that which we create keep us company.
Just elevator music
...keeping the mind occupied it endlessly rises and falls
...again and again.
Even when you observe it doesn't stop.
Instead it becomes just another object
...the observer observes.
Just consciousness--that's all.
Scary thought?
It's just a thought.
So who are you? Who am I?
Always that which comes before.
And that too is always changing.
Nothing permanent: not you or me.
Let go of whatever else you seek.
Rest in knowing you are already that.

Category: Metaphysical poetry about
how we experience our consciousness.
Seashore Haiku
By Don Iannone

walking on the beach
releasing what was held back
the waves splash new hope

mountains of seashells
standing tall to what is true
make the right life choices

coffee on the beach
the day breaks gently on us
hearts stretch in the sun
A Noiseless Patient Spider
by Walt Whitman

A noiseless patient spider,
I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark'd how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

I am

"When I met my Guru, he told me: "You are not what you take yourself to be. Find out what you are. Watch the sense 'I am', find your real Self." I obeyed him, because I trusted him. I did as he told me. All my spare time I would spend looking at myself in silence. And what a difference it made, and how soon!

My teacher told me to hold on to the sense 'I am' tenaciously and not to swerve from it even for a moment. I did my best to follow his advice and in a comparatively short time I realized within myself the truth of his teaching. All I did was to remember his teaching, his face, his words constantly. This brought an end to the mind; in the stillness of the mind I saw myself as I am -- unbound.

I simply followed (my teacher's) instruction which was to focus the mind on pure being 'I am', and stay in it. I used to sit for hours together, with nothing but the 'I am' in my mind and soon peace and joy and a deep all-embracing love became my normal state. In it all disappeared -- myself, my Guru, the life I lived, the world around me. Only peace remained and unfathomable silence."

Source: Nisargadatta Maharaj

Note: This worked for me. Can it work for you? Perhaps. It's worth a try if you have not found a better way. Blessings, Don
Seashore Haiku
By Don Iannone

gentle ocean breeze
drifts across mountains of sand
broken seashell laughs

one wave, then comes more
perfect red-orange sunset
land, sea, and sun meet

shipwrecked sailor calls
into the night he wanders
then his ship comes in

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Workers Feel Underpaid

The average worker hasn't seen a meaningful pay increase in three years, despite the economy's rebound, according to U.S. Labor Department data.

That may explain the findings of a national survey released recently reporting a sharp jump in the number of employees who feel underpaid.

Nearly 40 percent of employees think their companies pay less-than-market-rate salaries, compared with 28 percent last year, according to an annual survey of workplace attitudes by the Randstad USA staffing agency and Harris Interactive Inc.

Source: Tucson Citizen
By Don Iannone

Tuesday morning, my world is quiet,
Hazy sunrise, no technicolor riot.
Heavy air, thick as water,
Butchered poem, what a slaughter.
Looking out, looking in,
Don't waste this day, what a sin.
Looks like rain, no not again!
Dampened hopes, just can't win.
Dreamy music, I lose my grip,
Off in time, my mind does slip.
This poem is done, I must go,
I hope my first appointment doesn't show.
Hello Dalai, Are You There?

Thousands of Buddhists have converged on a Buddhist monastery in western China mistakenly thinking the Dalai Lama would be there, underscoring the devotion many feel toward Tibet's exiled spiritual leader. Read the full story here.
The God Pill
From The Economist, July 13, 2006

"One June night in Mexico in 1955, Gordon Wasson, a vice-president of J.P. Morgan, became one of the first outsiders to eat what the Aztecs called teonanácatl, the flesh of the gods. Actually, it is the flesh of a fungus, and it soon became known to hippies as the magic mushroom. But, whereas the flower children of the 1960s and their descendants gobbled the hallucinogenic fungi in search of a good time, the Aztecs had a deeper purpose. They used the mushrooms in religious ceremonies for healing, divination and communing with the spirit world.

Now a study led by Roland Griffiths of Johns Hopkins University, and published this week in Psychopharmacology, has shown that psilocybin—the active component in magic mushrooms—does indeed induce mental states akin to the highest religious experiences. Moreover, it has lasting positive effects on those who take it."

Source: The Economist

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

A Summer Love Poem for Mary
By Don Iannone

We walked and we wandered
so far from our given path at birth,
We strayed and we pondered
why we are here on this earth,
So many suns have risen and set
I cannot remember,
Until that morning we met
on that fateful day in November,
Days seemed uncommonly long
before we spent one together,
And now we sing our song
how we'll last forever,
Two tiny summer fireflies
we'll be till the very end,
Lost for an eternity in blue skies,
and then hand in hand we ascend.
Prisoners of War
By Don Iannone

Are you a prisoner of war like me?
Are you unable to set yourself free?
Is your world shattered like a broken glass?
Does life always seem to head you off at the pass?
Do you ever wake up at night painfully screaming,
because of what you lived and not what you were dreaming?
Does happiness seem to elude you like smoke?
The tears get stuck making you choke.
Is each day in your life an endless bloody battle?
Do your words at times seem senseless prattle?
Does the sound of a plane passing overhead,
make you wish you were suddenly dead?
Does the backfire of a car on the street passing by
remind you of gunfire and how you could die?
Does any of this make sense to you?
When you think deep does it seem true?
Like you, I've fought the battle of life.
Too little love and too much strife.
It took me a while, but finally I'm free.
No more battles because finally I see.
I mourn for my buddies who float at sea.
Some prisoners of war for eternity.
Thoughts on Poetry

One demands two things of a poem. Firstly, it must be a well-made verbal object that does honor to the language in which it is written. Secondly, it must say something significant about a reality common to us all, but perceived from a unique perspective. What the poet says has never been said before, but, once he has said it, his readers recognize its validity for themselves.—W. H. Auden

Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.—Percy Bysshe Shelley

Poets utter great and wise things which they do not themselves understand.—Plato

Like a piece of ice on a hot stove, the poem must ride on its melting.—Robert Frost

Monday, July 17, 2006

Daily Dharma

"as a flower blown out by the wind
goes to rest and cannot be defined
so the wise man freed from individuality
goes to rest and cannot be defined.
gone beyond all images-
gone beyond the power of words"

From: Sutra Nipata
Gone But Not Forgotten
By Don Iannone

Like the streaking pink orange sun
about to surrender to the night sky're gone but far from forgotten.
Boisterous chirping crickets fortell
what the morning sky will hold
...but nothing about you...leaving
my heart hanging full and lonely.
Darkness has arrived
...and this time it has nothing to do
with the time of day.
Haiku Beyond Summer
By Don Iannone

freckle-faced farm girl
cows dawdle eating spring greens
girl walks dirt road home

from beneath wet snow
life leaps into out-stretched arms
hug her with your heart

hold onto nothing
allow the moment to grow
the future finds you
Fixin' to Mend
By Don Iannone

Broken hearts,
like old fences weathered apart,
need mending.
Healing begins
with a caring look,
followed by time
and steady hands,
that patiently touch
with the tenderness
of early autumn leaves.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Summer Haiku
By Don Iannone

soft rain beats gently
green leaves laugh in the shower
surprise love downpour

green, pink, orange, and blue
sunlight graces the garden
bow to afternoon rainbow

hummingbird hovers
wings vibrate heart melodies
reality hums
The Tree of Love

The tree of love its roots hath spread
Deep in my heart, and rears its head;
Rich are its fruits: they joy dispense;
Transport the heart, and ravish sense.
In love's sweet swoon to thee I cleave,
Bless'd source of love . . .

- St. Francis of Asissi, Into Love's Furnace I am Cast
Zen Circles of Enlightenment

This is an all-purpose enso: It can be the moon-mind of enlightenment, the true taste of Zen, or maybe nothing other than an old bucket that has lost its bottom. Different people see different things in an enso, but the Zen circle itself remains silent and unaffected by outside views.

About the Artist: Awakawa Koichi was a professor of economics who fell in love with Zen art. He built a Zen art gallery at his home, and his book Zen Painting introduced this wonderful art form to the world at large. Awakawa himself did zenga in the Sengai style: brushed in light gray shades with zany, cartoon-like composition.

Source: Shambhala

Saturday, July 15, 2006

On Joy

"Sympathetic joy is an unselfish, very positive mental attitude which is beneficial for oneself and others. In this case, it also refers specifically to rejoicing in the high rebirth and enlightenment of others."

--Rudy Harderwijk
Quite to the Contrary
By Don Iannone

...not lazy people who move slowly the grocery store line
...but insects
...hanging out in your garden
...sucking life from your flowers.
...not the supple delicate creatures
...fluttering in your garden
...but the two-legged social ones
...flittering about at cocktail parties
...spilling drinks on your rug.
...not the blood-sucking creatures
...leaving welts on your arm
...but blood-sucking people
...sapping away
...your life energy and wealth.
...sometimes what we think
...and sometimes not.
Daily Dharma

"Since everything is but an apparition, having nothing to do with good or bad, acceptance or rejection, one may well burst out in laughter."


Friday, July 14, 2006

A New Vision for Youth and Young Adult Employment

This is an example of the type stuff that gets me paid. I share it here on my poetry website because I think all of us need to work together in helping youth and young adult worldwide succeed in the work and careers.

I would love your thoughts.

Don's Article (pdf file)


Summer Haiku
By Don Iannone

flute sounds drift lonely
pagoda releases peace
time loses meaning

wild rose buds unfold
one thorn plucks out another
handle life gently

redemption draws nigh
black birds silhouette the sky
light slips through darkness
The Voice of Silence
By Don Iannone

Of all the voices within
that I love to hear,
silence is golden to my ear.
Of all the voices
that coach, criticize, and cheer,
silence is most clear.
Her voice so sweet--
whispers loud above the roar,
Forever right
no matter the chore,
silence gets my ear.
The Inner Critic
By Sharon Good

"One of the greatest deterrents to creativity is the inner voice that constantly whispers in our ear that we're not good enough, that nobody will approve of what we're doing, and that they don't really like us anyway. This "inner critic" becomes our constant companion, not only in our work, but in everything we do.

The inner critic begins as a survival mechanism. When we're children, part of our parents' job is to teach us socially acceptable behavior. In doing so, even the best parents inevitably curb our natural instincts. This makes us feel that there must be something innately wrong with us, and it hurts or shames us. In order to avoid future pain, we start telling ourselves what's wrong with us before others in our world get around to it."

Read more here.

Thursday, July 13, 2006

The first question is: Who are you?

"I am That from where you, me, she, he, and all the rest emerge. I am That."

Consider this...

"Justice is truth in action.

--Benjamin Disraeli
Summer Haiku
By Don Iannone

in warm sun she sleeps
outstretched, her golden fur shines
curled tail circles life

soft falling raindrops
warm tears of laughter appear
all part of the flow

her palm touches his
his lips and hers gently brush
moon-lit night and love
Summer Haiku
Don Iannone

white-capped mountain peak
high above where all dreams sleep
sun smiles at the top

lonesome dove appears
morning awakens the world
lantern flame burns down

cross-legged old man sits
letting go of all troubles
then his own light shines

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Leaping Scaredy Cats
By Don Iannone

I once had a cat whose unlikely name was Fred,
Every night he slept with me in my four-poster bed,
One night as I snored loudly and scared the poor cat,
He jumped in the air where earlier he had sat,
Fred landed on my beer belly with a big loud thud,
Nearly forcing me to throw up my half-chewed cud,
Holy crap you scared me you dimwit cat, I screamed,
My life was much happier dreaming, or so it seemed,
Ole Fred was remorseful for what he had done,
But I saw in his eyes that he had some fun,
The lesson we learn from such improbable tales:
Snore too loudly and off your cat sails.
Fly for Supper
By Don Iannone

Tiny spider,
Tiny spider,
How stealthfully you crawl,
Across the floor and on up the wall,
You spin a quick web to snare your prey,
I'd guess you do this six times a day,
You sit so still, the whole time you stare,
Awaiting the big-eyed fly perched on the chair,
Somehow you know just when he will fly,
And land on the wall oh so high,
The fly flaps his wings starting his flight,
You imagine his landing perfectly right,
Off guard you catch him, he lands in your web,
And he is your supper just like I said.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

The Universal Blessing of Love
By Don Iannone

Each with a different tongue
...speaks the same language of love.
Each with a different heart beats the universe's eternal song of love.
Each with a different hand
...touches others needing love.
Each with a different mind
...resonates with undying love--
the idea underlying all other ideas.
Each star in the universe is kissed love and shines in thanksgiving.
Each moment you live matter how painful or sad
...extends to you the blessing of love.

Reach back and grasp what is yours.

Monday, July 10, 2006

Pulled Down Fantasies
By Don Iannone

Pulled down fantasies the cool satin sheets

...on your steamy hot bed
...touching your to mine.

Your scent lingers
...on my lips
...on my fingers my mind.
While we've known each other
...I've wondered
...what you'd be like so many ways many times.
Let yourself go.
Release what holds you
...into my arms
...into my mind, and always
...into my heart.
Real love is irreversible matter what anybody says.

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Salvador Dali said...

"Surrealism is destructive, but it destroys only what it considers to be shackles limiting our vision."

And what do you say?
The Child Within
By Don Iannone

Don’t allow the child within you to die.
Brush back the hair from his questioning eyes he can see you
...and you can see him.
Go for a walk.
Take turns showing each other what you see.
Find something new together
...that you can both see for the first time.
Listen to that tiny voice inside.
You’re never too old to be young again.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

In Search of Still Water
By Don Iannone

Soul waters run deep
throughout my being they seep.
On the surface violently rough
testing whether I have the stuff.
Razor-sharp waves capsize my lifeboat
almost dashing my hope of staying afloat.
Into the turbulent dark waters I dive
to the depths I plunge to survive.
Fear as cold as icebergs in the sea
grips my heart and the rest of me.
Sun-lit mountains beckon from below
in their direction I must flow.
A faint rainbow appears as I swim deeper
a welcome sign from the Great Keeper.
Reaching the no turning point in my descent
my spirit takes over without my consent.
The waters warm and fill me with light
a sun-filled clover field is now in sight.
Near the bottom the waters turn perfectly still
from that peaceful place my heart does fill.

Friday, July 07, 2006

New Neighbors: We're Having a Party!

Summer Haiku
By Don Iannone

silver dove flies high
suddenly life is in reach
celebrate living

two song birds unite
nest becomes home to many
voices everywhere

night falls on hillside
shadows dance in harmony
music fills the sky

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Poll Question: Current Results

Have you ever had an experience that convinced you that God or some Divine force exists in the universe?

Yes: 77.78%
Maybe : 5.56%
No: 16.67%
Don't know: 0%

Look at the right hand column for the poll if you want to cast your vote. ----->
Lightning Strikes in Early Morning Fog
By Don Iannone

Early morning
...before the sun and light.
Even before my conscious mind
catches up with its unconscious partner.
Dull wispy thoughts linger
...maybe from a dream, or
...just some syrypy residue
...from the day before.
It's quiet.
More so than usual.
I don't mind the emptiness.
It fills me in an odd sort of way.
Two days ago
...lightning struck very near us.
We felt small...and helpless.
It struck again this morning
...this time inside me.
I felt cleansed and free.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Memorial to an Electrified Oak Tree
By Don Iannone

Struck down
while standing tall
in the woodlands forest.
One horrifying jagged
electrifying thunderbolt
claimed him in seconds.
Stripped naked--
his bark strewn
and hanging loose
like a skinned alligator.
We didn't know
till morning
he was fried
to a blackened crisp
like the worst of toast
you can imagine.

We didn't hear his cry.

I'm sorry.
Mother Nature Strikes at Home
(Lightning Cuts One of Our Brothers in Half)

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Happy Interdependence Day

Some 5/3/5 Lunes <--Click here

Silver lightning streaks
in night sky
thunder fills the air.

Rose blossom flowers
hearts open
love is in the air.

Holding hands in love
always one
heart symphonies play.
Great art picks up where nature ends

"The habit of ignoring Nature is deeply implanted in our times. This attitude reminds me of people who never look you in the eye; I find them disturbing and always have to look away."

--Marc Chagall

Monday, July 03, 2006

Always Believe in New Possibilities

Summer Haiku
By Don Iannone

budding new flower
midday sun cradles the child
summer joy springs forth

watching the watcher
shadows fall where there was light
darkness calls the night

sweet bird sings freely
a new morning has broken
darkness swept away
Many of us lost a friend...

Larry Terry was not only a talented professional and great teacher in public administration, but a friendly and compassionate man who cared about people. He's gone at 52. Too young. Click here to read the obiturary column.

I worked with Larry at Cleveland State University for several years. He was a delight in so many ways. I was shocked when my wife pointed out his obit article to me.

Losing a Friend
By Don Iannone

We never know why or when--
we hope never
...and certainly not
...when we're still young.
...we're all asked to move on.
I believe our souls seem to know
...even though our conscious minds
...often haven't a clue.
Take heart the eternal connection
...all of us share
...and never lose
...even when we pass over.
May we remember
...the next time
...a sunrise blesses our day.
When the Soul Speaks...Listen
By Don Iannone

So much
of my life
I've spent
just wanting
what seemed important
to me being me.
So much
of my life
wasted in wanting
what seemed important
to me being me.
So much
I've missed in life
I have been
too busy wanting.
So much
under the bridge
and...forever gone
like the river
that brought us here.
because it wasn't mine
or even yours
to hold onto
it simply isn't
and never was.
We imagined it all--
like some movie
that ran through our heads
and we thought
we were the projector
as well as the movie.
we think
we can be both
at the same time
but we can't.
Don't despair
you're not
who you think
you are.
We'll never know--
how can you know
when there is nothing
or nobody
to know
in the first place.
Next time
you are between dreams
try to remember
that you simply are
as am I
and there is nothing more.
Please...whatever you do
don't despair
that all you have
are the illusions you wear
like your blue blazer
and gray slacks
there is hope
for you and me
if we can see
the illusion of the reality
and the reality of the illusion.
Look...even past hope
because reality lies beyond
whatever we hope.
Just ride the wave
to the next
and don't question
what's between--
because that's you.
You are that
and I am that--
which lies between.
We are
nothing more
and shouldn't even
want to be
anything more
than that. that.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

This is true...

Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.

--Leo Buscaglia
Early Morning Hibiscus

Summer Haiku
By Don Iannone

trust the sun to shine
...allow its warmth to fill you
......setting hearts ablaze

red rose all alone
...aglow in soft white sunlight beyond words

early morning mist
...dew drops sparkling brightly
......tears fill happy eyes

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Message to all my blogging friends:

People share their lives through their blogs. So much hope, so many dreams, so much pain, and so much happiness and joy. I rejoice in your beauty.

Blessings and gratitude!
Take Refuge in the Beauty of Summer

Summer Haiku
By Don Iannone

trepidatious mind
...alone, frozen tightly shut
......suddenly skies clear

unwilling life host little, taking more comes full circle

night skies blanket us bright star shining bravely
......darkness disappears
Getting What You Ask For
By Don Iannone

too much work
...running behind
......chasing the bus
.........dragging me--into the future
............kicking and screaming
...............trying to catch up
..................too many commitments
.....................dragging me down
........................too many roads did this happen?
...............................look in the mirror.
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