Poetic Medicine - the healing art of poem making (based on a book by John Fox)

[Frank]

A lot of healing happens when the personal sense of meaning is recovered,

Our deepest meanings are held in the unconscious mind, in the language of dreams,
symbols and archetypes.

Poetry speaks this language and through poetry, we can learn the Meaning of
our hurts, illnesses, and other events of our lives which we do not understand.

When we write, read and share our poetry - a magic is created. We are not alone anymore.
Yes, there is someone else who feels what we feel, there is a bond between us.
On the deepest levels of our beings, we all share the same truths.

We can heal ourselves and others - through writing poetry.
Take off your masks - you know the ones we wear to prevent us from being hurt - the ones we wear to win approval - they are not needed here.

Here we will write poetry from the heart and soul.
There is no right way to write poetry here. Just use your 'self'

I ask those who wish to comment on the poems written here to
use this template:

Say - I love your poem. It makes me feel . . ..

Do not say - your poem is beautiful - use I statements instead "I think your poem is beautiful.
Although, it might seem that this is a trivial difference - it is not.
I statements say how you feel
"your poem is beautiful" implies a judgement - these poems are not to be judged !
They are personal statements expressing thoughts and feelings of the author.

I will delete judgement statements in order to keep this discussion safe.

I will post an exercise weekly from the Poetic Medicine book.

Love to all,
Frank

[Ang Monsoon]

I enjoyed reading that, thanks, will put this "pill" on the back-burner & see if anything materialises...

[Ang Monsoon]

This morning I went to the "chicken house" & there was this "egg", there's feathers & other muck stuck on it, it's raw, not much edited, it's fingernails are long, they can stay like that, I hope it has something for you....

I'm dedicating it to Frank for inspiring me with these prompts...

APOTHECARY

The apothecary shop gives out a breath of mint and aniseed.
Fingerprints and small nose prints smudge the impressive glass window.
The grand scales balance the weight of history and the inconvenience of time.

Once the modern customers have gone,
back to their sanitised lives and pills in capsules,
the inhabitants of the street return.
Cabs are drawn by black stallions, the like of which you've never seen.
Children are lifted high, like a washing line of starched white cloth.
A band plays and the street's spooky silence retreats to the shadows.

And here they come,
the apothecary, in his stiff collar, with the barefoot woman from the woods.

The barefoot woman carries a basket, full of herbs that long fingers have prised
from secret places.
She knows her craft by instinct.
Her music is the music of river, stream and wind.

The woman from the woods and the apothecary
are united in the practice of alchemy.
It's no formal practice.
There's no hesitation, no bowing to scholars,
theirs is an old faith, a witchcraft if you wish.

The old medicines were strong, crude,
they burned and cut the skin of the apothecary's hands.

His hands, her hands, her bare feet,
walking the woodland, in tune,
with an ancient heartbeat.

An unlikely couple, the woman from the woods,
barefoot, and the apothecary in his stiff collar,
wiping his forehead.

Her herbs are poems, yet she can't even read,
They are priceless, yet she wears rags.
His practice is alchemy,
Yet he is an apothecary by name.

[Frank]

I love this poem, Angie.

It is an alchemy to me - the blending of the old herb ways
and the medicine making of the apothecary.

I like this on many levels, thank you for posting it.

Frank

[Ang Monsoon]

so glad you liked it, Frank, may you have have peace in your heart & continue to follow your authentic inner voice....

[Alexandra Charlis Carpenter]

WORDS UNSAID

I'd like to send you a moonbeam
Or a colored rainbow bright
Maybe just fluffy clouds to play on
Through out your darkest night

I'd like to take all the darkness
Out of every storm
Send you a beaming ray of sunshine
Just to wrap you in to keep you warm

These are thoughts I think to do
All just wishes I can’t make come true
I'll simply hope in time you'll understand
Forgive all that is left unsaid or done for you

© 2008 Alexandra Carpenter