conscious living poetry journal

You can find my daily poetry posts at Poetic Alchemist over on Wordpress. Here is the link: http://poeticalchemist.wordpress.com See you th...

A Much Needed Change of Scenery I've changed careers and decided to stop writing poetry. My psychotherapist said I was addicted to poetr...

Overtaken By Don Iannone Can you fathom the beauty of spring and where it carries you, when you allow it to overtake you like a herd of wild...

Spring Morning By Don Iannone streaming through the trees mellow yellow morning sun in the cool shadows plump red robin struts his stuff eve...

Virginia Tech, April 16, 2007 By Don Iannone o o o o o how and why, they ask no answers remove the pain one disturbed young man guns blaze,...

* * F irst T ulips By Don Iannone first tulips open we close all around to see a new world appears spring is no small miracle our hearts fil...

yellow goldfinches feverishly feed on thistle sprightly sweet voices rise like the ocean tide clouds hitchhike across the sky Note: Don'...

S elf- I ndulgent D espair By Don Iannone Don't be too quick to assume That this poem is about me. After all, it might be about you, Or ...

April Haiku 3 By Don Iannone wistful marbled clouds Kurt Vonnegut will be missed a legend is gone early morning sun too soon for shadows in ...

April Haiku 2 Don Iannone April winds howling ... white birches dance side to side ...... rain showers coming plump robins gather ... trees...

April Haiku 1 By Don Iannone morning sun through trees ... young buds bursting wide open .... .. life sprouting anew sun and shadows mix .....

R ejoice By Don Iannone Rejoice in knowing your happiness does not depend upon you knowing anything. Rejoice in discovering the discoverer w...

C elebrating the R ain that W ashes A way the S now By Don Iannone The rain came and washed away fifteen inches of unwelcomed April snow. Th...

B e the C andle By Don Iannone All of us at times need encouragement to stay the path. Not one of us is above needing help from others. We s...

W arriors of the L ight By Don Iannone Each of us in our own way gives light to the world. Each of us in our own way fights for what we bel...

Venus on Some April Eve By Don Iannone Brilliant beacon Venus glows like some ancient golden coin in the dark northwest sky. Wedded as she i...

A pril S now By Don Iannone We file federal income tax returns next week and it's still snowing and cold in Cleveland. Six inches of wet...

A lways in the M oment W e A re By Don Iannone The world is changing in ways we can't begin to imagine. This time is different than the ...

M an and N ature By Elizabeth Barrett Browning A sad man on a summer day Did look upon the earth, and say-- "Purple cloud the hill-top ...

P retending By Don Iannone We pretend at times that things are better than they really are because we want our life to be better than it rea...

R ed L ake I ndian B rothers By Don Iannone This is April, and they had been missing since late November. Everyone had given up hope, excep...

W hat W e T ouch T ouches U s By Don Iannone S ometimes you touch things, and they touch you back...in very special ways that you never expe...

M onday M orning By Don Iannone M onday morning darkness fades as shimmering sunlight fills the front window. C heerful bird voices punctuat...

F rom S pring R aindrops By Don Iannone W arm spring rain beats down upon us with uncontrolled passion throughout the industrious night. B ...

L ife T elescopes and M icroscopes By Don Iannone W e are forever trying to decide when to use the telescope and microscope in our lives. Ea...

W orking S tiffs By Don Iannone I 've grown somewhat jaded about the ability of work to bring true meaning to our lives. Pragmatically, ...

P ondering P oetry By Don Iannone P oetry is one of those things I like to do and do often. P oetry is one of those things seizing my imagin...

If Only By Don Iannone If only we had it to do ... all over again. If only we had ... one more chance. If only we could go back ... and eras...

What Has Always Been There By Don Iannone What has always been there is what always remains after all else has departed and all else has bee...

Tears We Cry Till Laughter in the Skies By Don Iannone At times our work and money evaporate like smoke leaving us as pennyless hungry begga...

Train Whistle in the Fog By Don Iannone Off in the distance a haunting train whistle blows away the sullen morning fog that sat the night ye...

The Dove A Springtime Dedication to Mary By Don Iannone . Lady bird of grace whose broad eliptical wings gather hope as they f...

Full of Surprises By Don Iannone Sun up to sun down ... life is full of surprises ... and that's exactly ... how it should be. We should...

Painting: Monet's Garden of Giverny First Day of Spring 2007 The birds in the woods ... sing in spring voices ... as the fire-red meltin...

Iraq By Don Iannone Never been to Iraq. No desire to go there-- at least not until things get a whole lot better. The killing there must sto...

Changes Spring Forth at Winter's Edge By Don Iannone Almost there-- to spring that is. While a heavy wet snow fell today ... winter know...

removing the you between you and another by don iannone leave yourself behind today forget yourself ... long enough to remember another ... ...

Poems and Dreams: Close to the Other Side By Don Iannone Poems about dreams are excruciatingly hard to express, and probably just as hard to...

Going to Find Peace By Don Iannone There comes a time when you will have gone as far as you can go in the way you're used to going. Ther...

Betting on Spring By Don Iannone Snow fell hard and wet on young crocuses trying their best to make strong first impressions in life. They s...

Moon Memories of a Campfire-Lit Night By Don Iannone Campfires rage bright into the deep forest night. Hungry flames lap the lonely silence ...

. Honoring Our Bison Friends A Native American Tribute By Don Iannone We have forgotten our bison friends who for thousands of years roamed ...

First Crocuses By Don Iannone First crocuses ... about to bloom ...... sit and wait ......... for they know their time. First crocuses .... ...

less is more by don iannone so many thoughts ... so many memories ...... so much to forget ......... before we can remember ............ who...

Lake Erie from Cleveland By Don Iannone Proud, but smaller than her four siblings, Erie wraps herself, like a rough hewn blue-gray shawl aro...

. . . . . . Photo Credit: Rockwell Kent, American, Clover Fields, 1939–40 Spring Fantasies By Don Iannone Spring is coming and everyone and ...

What We Can While We Can in Life By Don Iannone Sometimes the weight of life is so heavy you can't help but stumble and even sometimes y...

Sundown Geese By Don Iannone Four Canadian geese ... out of formation ...... fly ......... straight off ............ into the setting sun. N...

There are Deep Places By Don Iannone There are deep places like valleys you wear that you can't shake loose until you give them all that...

Second Take on the Interstate Accident By Don Iannone One poem was not enough to shake loose the hold of the interstate accident I witnessed...

Visit from the Red-Tailed Hawk By Don Iannone From the window we watched not more than five yards away the red-tailed hawk perched regally i...

March By Don Iannone March winds howl without mercy. Their wolf-like lungs ache-- inhaling bitter February air not quite ready to give over ...

There Comes a Time By Don Iannone There comes a time when sorting out comes to an end and the need to sort out anything becomes far less imp...

Beyond Your Fear By Don Iannone You can't be but afraid when loneliness fills the well from where you draw your hope. You can't be b...

Among the Rows of Corn By Don Iannone The golden corn grows impatient, like a clown's evaporating smile, in long fingered rows in the on...

Mole Hills or Mountains By Don Iannone Mole hills have a way of growing into mountains in our lives, and we have a great deal to do with the...

Heaven: Come and Go as You Like By Don Iannone Heaven's doors are always open ... and all we have to do ... is walk in. Too often ... we...

Gifts By Don Iannone Moon swan on still water. No ripples. Only peace. It's a gift... the moon ... the swan ...... the water .........th...

My Poems are My Friends By Don Iannone My poems are my friends. They tell me things I need to hear, and to which I am prone not to listen. T...

Working with Your Stuff By Don Iannone Working with your stuff-- in ways you haven't before. Working with the stuff of your life-- to ge...

A Closing Concert on Early Beginnings By Don Iannone I am close to having my childhood back as a long lost part of my life. There is some pa...

A Late February Arizona Sunset By Don Iannone A lone Harris hawk swoops and swoons between shallow furrows cut in the saguaro-carpeted mount...

Conscious Communities Don has started a new blog replacing his longstanding economic development blog. It is called Conscious Communities a...

Giving Thanks for Those Who Remind Us By Don Iannone I passed by a man today, who had but one eye. I gave thanks for my very good vision. I ...

February Sunset Concert By Don Iannone A slowly disappearing evening sun paints Confederate gray clouds with subtle streaks of marbled salmo...

In Search of a Metaphysical Explanation of Why Two Toilets Crap Out at the Same Time By Don Iannone Crappers crap out-- even the best of the...

Gathering Fresh New Possibilities by the River By Don Iannone It's been a long time since I played by the river-- along the Mighty Ohio,...

The Golden Pig Baby Business By Don Iannone No reduction this year in China's population. Crossover the pig and gold in Chinese astrolo...

Getting Hitched on a Saturday Night By Don Iannone Wedding bells ring. Sacred vows made on a knee-deep snowy Saturday night. Two people--you...

Recovering on a Snowy Saturday Morning By Don Iannone The fresh fallen snow brings welcomed silence on a lingering gray Saturday morning. It...

We Walk This Road But Once By Don Iannone We come this way but once. There is no stopping us once we're here--until the road we travel e...

Dedicated to Joanne By Don Iannone We write our lines. Even the bitterest, saddest and most painful-- to the very end. I think there comes a...

It's All One By Don Iannone Wholeness-- our lives without lines, pieces, or parts, or years, or moments separating us from ourselves. Pu...