To Love…

To love is…
to hold not only the fun but the fear.
to listen.
to find security in what you do not know;
In what you are willing to learn.

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Namastè

©NicholeDonjè

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Love Is…

Love is…

never forgetting

always wondering
asking

making time
forgiving

surrendering to life

profound

constantly moving
unselfish

never cruel
taking chances

listening

a gentle caress
a sensual kiss

a reassuring glance

a rollercoaster ride

a pool of confusion
foolish in the eyes of many

sad for those who know it not

an emptying of souls
a filling of hearts

unpolluted whispers
wings of freedom

infinity

bare feet on warm silky sands

bananas in your cereal
a good beer and Mexican food

chocolate on ice cream
a popsicle in the summer

orange juice with breakfast
sunshine on a crystal clear stream

a day off in hectic times

smiling freely

feeling playful
dancing in the rain

swimming in the moonlight
making love under the stars or in the sun

feeling the open air on your skin

embracing your life

finding your way in the darkest of times
Knowing you are not alone

This all is Love

Namastè

©NicholeDonjè

By the River’s Edge

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Walking down the village main street of Cold Springs. It smells like vacation: a faint scent of firewood and river tides. That sticky cotton candy smell a dropped ice cream cone gives after sitting hours in the August sun. An Elvis tribute artist plays at the Silver Spoon Cafe drawing us back to simpler days. There’s an air of excitement. Fireworks tomorrow; I envision children running up and down the street with sparklers as energetic mutts chase their tails.

I smile silently. My heart is quiet, beating softly as we hold hands like high school kids just discovering the twinges and jitters of true love. By the river’s edge he points to look up, the stars reel quickly toward the horizon. We watch as they disappear in the distance one by one behind the silhouette of the Storm King hills. Our closeness is silent, our lives content.

Namastè

©NicholeDonjè

Bookstore Poet #4

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A touch
Words spoken through gentle eyes
A feeling growing in the depths
Butterflies
Everywhere
Blurring vision with blinding color
Vibrant
Alive
An intoxicating magic

Namastè

©NicholeDonjè

Observations

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“Try to be a sheet of paper with nothing on it. Be a spot of ground where nothing is growing, where something might be planted, a seed, possibly, from the Absolute.” – Rumi

This week my soul became a bit more aware of itself. The sun is a bit brighter, the touch of the breeze on my skin more delicate and the desire to share my heart with those I care for a bit deeper.

This cognizance is a keen foundation to dive into, unafraid and with acute decisiveness. I am asking myself openly, what is holding me back? Why is vulnerability so hard when it is the gateway to everything I want. I have been vulnerable this week; at times by choice and at times not. What I have found is that in either case I have stood sober and unobstructed by fear. I have heard and absorbed what is good and released whatever is unnecessary to hold. It has been comforting to trust in myself.

I am quieted, contemplative and curious. What more do I need?

Namastè
Nichole Donjè

Life Poems 4

Stella Doro S Cookies, Wise Onion & Garlic chips, a Maxwell House Can with Bacon Fat and Hellmann’s Mayonnaise

The smell of bacon fills me with excitement as I run to the kitchen. Grandma is standing at the stove cooking her daily lunch of Wonder Bread, Hellmann’s mayo and bacon fat. I beg for a bite. Disgusted yet again at the horrible texture I spit it out. My brain refusing to connect that something that smells so good can taste so bad.

After she eats I sit on her lap admiring the hard earned lines in her face. Every day she wears a nurses uniform blue and white, it never changes. I like to think she loves and misses being nurse in the war. But her eyes are sad, and though cloudy, they share so much. Her lack of English limited our conversation, but her heart and touch fill me with love.

I start to bounce as the familiar sound fills my ears and she sings “oom pa oom pa oom papa, oom pa oom pa oom papaaaa….”. I fall between her legs to be swiftly saved and pulled back up again and again.  This is a highly anticipated time in my day. We share Wise onion and garlic chips, the bright green bag that religiously sits on the top of the fridge. Happily we crunch as the sweet and tangy flavors rush across our tongues.

Soon she will head for her afternoon walk. She leaves for hours walking from South Boston to Cambridge and back; our ragamuffin dog following the whole way faithfully at her side. She carries an American flag tapping the houses she passes with the stick. Her collar always adorned with an embroidered four leaf clover sticker. I think she feels lucky to be in America, and each tap is a thank you to the country and god. On her return she makes tea and grabs the Stella D’oro S cookies as a treat. I don’t like them much but I love her and the love they represent.

For me, Grandma is a collection of fascinating objects and broken memories. She fills my heart and helps me understand what a smile is for.

She is the faded virgin mother poster with broken glass that sits behind a washing machine that never works.

She is a green rabbit’s foot that sits on the window sill next to a faded black and white photo of my grandfather in his coffin; the back covered with writing in Lithuanian.

She is laughter and love without language.

She is an old long navy blue coat in the closet with the tiniest waist I’ve ever seen.

She is the one who makes me eat with my right hand and never with my left.

She is an adventurous traveler and a lover of lost pets.

She is Stella D’or0 S cookiesWise Onion & Garlic chips, a Maxwell House can filled with with bacon fat, and Hellmann’s mayonnaise.

She is my creative internal compass for understanding love.

©NicholeDonjè

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Letters to Loved Ones

To Those I’ve loved,

I often stop to think of my ghosts. Those who have gone. Their essence dwells in the corners of my mind sometimes jumping out to greet me unexpectedly.

I long for these days when I sit on the couch and smell the familiar cologne or hear a humming voice echo in my heart reminding me of old loves, deeps loves, loves that last through decades of memory.

This week I reach to the collective spirits. To all those who filled my life and had a hand in who I am. Today I want you to know you’re here with me.

Namastè

In Retrospect

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“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself you have built against it.” – Rumi

Namaste

Haiku 3 – Haiku Mondays

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the colored leaves fall
leaving the trees alone now
to sleep quietly

© Nichole Donjé