# data[].attributes.body
Background image: "Mindful" by Clive Varley

# data[].attributes.body
little ripples of leafquiver

push dapples across my lap

the more the shiver of sun

the stiller I become

draft © Heidi Mordhorst 2020

# data[].attributes.body
Each early morning’s walk

I hear the hum of traffic,

noticing its hum,

what mere weeks ago

was rumble and roar.

Caught at the contradiction

between good and bad,

I send wishes to the travelers

for safety at their destination

as I arrive home

and close my door.

Linda Baie ©

# data[].attributes.body
After 49 days,

I’ll welcome the warmth

Of snuggles before the rest wake.

After 49 days,

I’ll listen for clunks

Of ice in the glass for his Coke.

After 49 days,

She’ll sleep in ‘til ten

Then rise and check in with friends.

After 49 days,

In quiet I wait

For my life to wake and begin.

© Rebekah Hoeft May 2020

# data[].attributes.body
A turn of faucet

Splish splosh sploosh

A squeeze of sponge

Suds ooze and foam

A greasy pot or pan falls in

Soon a shiny one atones

An endless task, yet calming

Warm and wet and clean

Splish splosh sploosh it sings

I scrub and hum along, serene.

© Karen Eastlund

# data[].attributes.body
Tiny head
rests on my shoulder,
hand on my neck
curled in sleep,
delicate breaths
fill me with peace.

Copyright Keri Collins Lewis, 2020

# data[].attributes.body
After stepping on the beach sand for a few moments, I wrote. - Carol Varsalona
https://beyondliteracylink.blogspot.com/2020/05/poems-of-presence.html

# data[].attributes.headline
Dear Sand (Epistolary Poem) - Carol Varsalona

# data[].attributes.subject
Dear Sand (Epistolary Poem) - Carol Varsalona

# data[].attributes.body
https://beyondliteracylink.blogspot.com/2020/05/poems-of-presence.html

# data[].attributes.body
Red sky dawning
Planets guarding
Birds hello-ing
Moon goodbye-ing

Rose Cappelli

# data[].attributes.body
Oh, to walk on the beach

these spring afternoons.

To enjoy lapping waves,

and slide down big dunes.

To watch sea birds playing,

hear loud seagulls' squawks.

To spot pretty seashells,

crabs, clams, osprey hawks.

To exult in fresh air,

feel mist on my face.

Oh, to take a beach walk,

but must stay home in place!

Dianne Moritz, May 2020

# data[].attributes.body
She turns off the news
and streams a mix of oldies.
Maybe it's the timbre
of his voice, raw yet tender,
but a long forgotten song
catches her off guard.
The tears come in a surprising
gush, lasting a moment.
Then she lifts her head,
drags a sleeve across her eyes
and joins in on the chorus.

© Diane Mayr

# data[].attributes.body
lemony finches
dot the apple tree
a cherry-red cardinal
perches in the birch
brilliant blue jays
swoop down
like bits of falling sky

©Molly Hogan

# data[].attributes.body
I sip my tea, munch a biscotti

watch lake water gleam under

a bright spring sky.

People in pairs walk by, chatting briskly.

A young girl runs back and forth

at water’s edge.

Her smile brighter than today’s sun.

A reminder of childhood’s innocence,

a longer distance between her and her future

compared to me and mine.  I step from the car,

adjust my mask, venture out into foreign fresh air.

Taking a cue from this child, I

inhale as best I can,

and pray for the cleansing and freedom we need.

All Rights Reserved @ Janet Clare Fagal

# data[].attributes.body
Invasive grape vines
tangle the top of the hemlock.
I have my loppers out,
ready to help.
But, there's a nest.
The cheeps are
too young
too delicate
too precious...
Surely, the tree understands
why I wait.

© 2020 Sarah Grace Tuttle. All rights reserved.

# data[].attributes.headline
Thoughts From My Living Room, May 8th, 2020

# data[].attributes.subject
Thoughts From My Living Room, May 8th, 2020

# data[].attributes.body
Now would be a good

time to declare yourself

a bonafide recluse poet.

Grow your hair, indulge

in the romance of it.

You don’t have to

move to a cabin

in Maine with boots

and rucksack of provisions.

Now, during the pandemic,

with pen and paper

just go out on your own porch

and jot down your impressions

of trees and dawn’s light

and the red fox that

dashed past you in flight.

There’s no traffic on the street,

no gun shots from the rod

and gun club, now closed.

And, as you sit and write

consider why it’s so hard

to find peace in normal times

and how you will choose

to live when and if

it ever ends.

© Janice Scully 2020

# data[].attributes.body
comet of crow
streaks across dark cloudy sky
contrail of bluejays

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

# data[].attributes.body
I am tree…

I rise two stories and more

I have thirty plus years

I watch over windows

I reach into sky

I love all seasons, but

Spring awakens joy in me…

My little green buds begin emerging

My leaves climb out and winged seeds shoot up

Birds sit in my branches: sparrows, robins, and cardinals

An artist watches me,

Sometimes she sketches me.

Sun graces me and

Clouds shelter me

I… am… tree…

I am River birch

I am here for you

Come be with me…

© 2020 Michelle Kogan

# data[].attributes.body
Your
deep red
gown twirls as
you dance with wind
under the pine, sun shines
your beauty. May I
have the next
dance, my
Lady?

Gail Aldous 2020

# data[].attributes.body
Forsythia
yellow fireworks
gray sky

four petals
blossom on bare branches
golden sparks

Forsythia
brightens pandemic
lifts gray mood

Gail Aldous 2020

# data[].attributes.body
dawn whispers hello

I linger with my coffee

fear is still sleeping

Sandie Vaisnoras, 2020

# data[].attributes.body
What's happening right here and now
I sit and think
writing
words
most things flowing
some fly
birds

-Breighlynn, 2020

# data[].attributes.body
this moment I focus…

my breath,

calm and rhythmic

steam rising

from my tea cup

rose gold sunrise

beaming through my windows

scratch of my pencil

as I write words to convey

this peaceful moment

Kathleen Mazurowski 2020 draft

# data[].attributes.body
Old friend, I see you’re running slow today.

I’m thankful I can come here when life’s a wreck

Those branches come down with the snow?

School’s been out a while…I miss my friends

Maybe a good rain will move them down stream

I feel frustrated and out of sorts

Birdsong echoes off your flat, smooth stones

I’m bored with my playlist

There’s a hint of green in the underbrush

Will there ever be an end to this?

It’s a hike to the next big bend on your banks

I need to ramble and clear my head

And then you can do all the talking

I find peace in your presence.

(c) Linda Mitchell

# data[].attributes.body
Christie Wyman, 2020 (draft)

# data[].attributes.body
To open our meeting on Wednesday, I asked my students to write a line or haiku to this image. I selected lines to create a Poem of Presence.

# data[].attributes.body
Today the sun
stretched up

from the ocean

to a clean sky.

Bright and new.

No smudges.

No smoke in its eye.

Pure shining gold.

© 2020 Kate O'Neil

# data[].attributes.body
I slice through the waxy lemon rind,

releasing a burst of pungent perfume.

Squeezing goodness into the dough,

a drop of sweet-tart nectar

falls on my finger –

a taste of summer.

Rose Cappelli, May 2020

# data[].attributes.body
Laura Purdie Salas

# data[].attributes.body
Splish splosh of May rain,
cool mist softens greening trees--
bleeding hearts in bloom.

© Janice Scully 2020

# data[].attributes.body
Forgive me for not
Leaping from lockdown
Enthused by the easing
Of restrictions
Neither a borrower
Nor a lemming be
My mother
Always said
- or something like that.

Alan j Wright 2020

# data[].attributes.body
Notebook time
When thoughts are pondered
Ideas considered
Possibilities entertained.
Then the word catching begins
-Fragments and phrases emerge
Nestling gently upon the lines
Clicking into place
Like jigsaw pieces.
Poetry flows from this.

Alan j Wright 2020

# data[].attributes.body
Class pages
Twelve hundred words
A mountain

Yesterday
Rain taps the window
Writing day

~jone rush macculloch

# data[].attributes.body
What I saw,
only in words

a single water
droplet dancing
off the edge of
the maple leaf

a young curious
fox watching
by the rocks of
the pine wood

a soft folding
flower shivering
in its blanket
of pink petals

-- Kevin Hodgson (Dogtrax)

# data[].attributes.body
A tiny wren searches

the cracks

the crevices

the low and

beneath-our-notice

places

the crawl and creep places

the afraid-of-

the-dark places

-- Steve Peterson

# data[].attributes.headline
On where to look for what you might need

# data[].attributes.subject
On where to look for what you might need

# data[].attributes.body
you can find sweetness

even

in the marrow

of grass

-- Steve Peterson

# data[].attributes.body
one yellow iris

blooms alone -

a sunbeam of hope and resilience

- Rose Cappelli 2020

# data[].attributes.body
My driveway an outdoor living room,

zero gravity lounge chair hugs my curves

Occasional breeze tempers premature summer heat

for a chorus of baby crows cheeping in the laurel oak

Elderly neighbor leisurely strolls by,

smiles and delivers a social distance wave

I find a moment of peace in this new normal,

as my four year old neighbor in Mickey Mouse pjs

makes sport of throwing his paper airplane

into my bottle brush tree

© 2020 Mindy Gars Dolandis

# data[].attributes.body
As soon as it comes,

it goes—

like a river

where you dip your toes,

like a flower

that blooms and blows.

Like river and bloom,

now flows..

@2020 Juanita Havill

All Rights Reserved

# data[].attributes.body
You don't need
to go out on a limb
for the perfect spot -
bloom on a whim.

by Donna JT Smith

# data[].attributes.body
Sun cuts through a cold spring morning
Inside the greenhouse a bloom of cotyledons strains for light –
Resurrection in plain sight
On a cold spring morning

© 2020 Marilyn Garcia. All Rights Reserved.

# data[].attributes.body
still lake, reflecting
drop a pebble in, witness
thoughts, rippling outward

- Lynn Vieira

# data[].attributes.headline
Three bird haiku from my #PoemsofPresence diary

# data[].attributes.subject
Three bird haiku from my #PoemsofPresence diary

# data[].attributes.body
May 5

morning news
a lively debate
of birdsong

May 9

rush hour
I mistake a cardinal
for a stop sign

May 17

hawk king
the white pickets stand
at attention

© 2020 Michelle Heidenrich Barnes. All rights reserved.

Read the rest at https://michellehbarnes.blogspot.com/2020/05/dmc-my-poemsofpresence-diary.html

# data[].attributes.body
Photo of an Australian beach by Kevin  Foley (Ireland) and haiku by beach lover, Carol Varsalona (Long Island)

# data[].attributes.body
yellow, green, red, blue
they're more than just mixing bowls
a stack of comfort

©Mary Lee Hahn

# data[].attributes.body
Dappled sunlight finds
My bare feet - a hint of grace
Between the showers

© Karen Eastlund

# data[].attributes.body
Yesterday
the plum tree
blossomed

Today
I watched
the sun rise
through its petals

©Molly Hogan, 2020

# data[].attributes.body
open wide
lesson on oral hygiene
drilled in

©Bridget Magee.

# data[].attributes.body
a gray, damp morning--
golden feathers summon
the cloud-covered sun
--Buffy Silverman

evening kayak ride--
a pair of redwings
voice their displeasure
--Buffy Silverman

# data[].attributes.body
by Christie Wyman

# data[].attributes.body
by Christie Wyman

# data[].attributes.body
by Christie Wyman

# data[].attributes.body
by Christie Wyman

# data[].attributes.body
by Christie Wyman

# data[].attributes.body
by Christie Wyman

# data[].attributes.body
by Christie Wyman

# data[].attributes.body
fallen petals mingle
with snowflakes.
It's hard to tell where
winter ends
and spring begins.

© Catherine Flynn, 2020
#PoemsofPresence

# data[].attributes.body
Gentle and quick each tap
Goes tap, tap, tap!
Fall to the ground
Scuffle, lift, float and point
Dancing on a cloud to heaven
The best Shirley Temple giggle
Filling my heart and soul
Fun, tap, click, tap
Fred Astaire dance away
Leap and spin
Whistle and tap
Clickity clackity
Spinning now and dancing with the dolphins
On a wave with a dolphin
Tippity tap
Fly across the floor
To touch each Star
Arrange each tap and shuffle
To the compass that is your life

By Tamara Broder

# data[].attributes.body
Crimson, russet, gold
I watch from my work station
Autumnal fireworks

Copyright: Lou Piccolo, 2020

# data[].attributes.body
I creep to the door to snatch a peek
Of rising chest and velveteen cheek.
Eyes aslumber, fast asleep.
And throughout the night, still and deep,
Most earnestly do I entreat,
Dear Lord, these smallish souls to seek.
That they might live before Your Face
Standing only by Your grace.

Copyright: Heather Cash Morris, 2020

# data[].attributes.body
There’s a circle in my garden goes round and round.
The seed gets planted.
and roots reach down.
There’s a circle in my garden goes round and round.
The leaves seek the sun.
And grow without a sound.
There’s a circle in my garden goes round and round.
The flower blooms.
luring bees around.
There’s a circle in my garden goes round and round.
The bees carry the pollen
from the flowers they’ve found
There’s a circle in my garden goes round and round.
The fruit plumps out
and I pick it now.
There’s a circle in my garden goes round and round.
The plant dies off.
and goes into the ground.
There’s a circle in my garden goes round and round.
The worms eat the plant.
and turn the soil dark brown.
There’s a circle in my garden goes round and round.
The worms leave the seeds.
to root in the dark brown soil down and down.
Then the leaves grow up
To the sun without a sound.
There’s a circle in my garden goes round and round.

Copyright Karen White Porter 2021

# data[].attributes.body
Dear Present Moment,

I am too busy to talk right now, how about we catch up later.

From,
On the go

# data[].attributes.body
In our hurry. . .

to get,

where we,

become.

Don’t forget to. . .

listen,

smile,

give hugs.

Everyone’s. . .

afraid,

lost,

has stories.

Don’t forget to. . .

welcome,

make seen,

give value.

Don’t forget to. . .

forgive,

forget,

move on.

Don’t forget to. . .

see gold,

stand tall,

be brave.

Don’t forget to. . .

be soft,

be strong.

be bold.

Don’t forget to. . .

slow down,

re-bloom,

embrace.

The present. . .

creates,

joys,

to be stored.

C Joy Moore

# data[].attributes.body
Sitting here, thinking
my mind's eye wandering
seeing nothing
lost in thought.
but thoughts of nothing
thinking of nothing
memories creep in
but no, clear it all away
must be nothing
lost in the moment
clear my mind
of nothing
there is nothing
my mind's eye sees nothing.

Sandy Belford May 30, 2020