always for some epiphany, don’t need to wrest a poem from the day— words that are pointing but never the point. You comb the beach, neck bent low, sifting for one perfect pebble, luminous and round, meant only for you and exactly for now. Right now, waves are spilling onto the sand. There is too much ocean to hold back. A vulture tilts in the wind, black kite stringless. All you see is light and its absence. I dare you to find a single stone that doesn’t shine when wet. I dare you to find anything on this yawning stretch of sand that isn’t already perfect.
This is beautiful, Jacy! Reading your poem feels like I'm being granted this permission, too . . . which runs counter to my socialization, as well. I love how poetry does that - how it finds universality in particularity.
This is lovely, Jacy! bnd rings so true and real. So often it is so hard to give ourselves permission for anything that can be termed "selfish, self indulgent, self absorbing... Your well crafted and beautiful poem is a beautiful permssion slip in poetic form! Thank you!
Your poem is so lovely. I'm especially struck by "I dare you to find anything on this yawning stretch of sand that isn’t already perfect."
And, as always, such a generous prompt. I hope my poem isn't too morbid-sounding. I just get frustrated with how I don't let myself feel certain things sometimes (and other times it seems like all I can do is feel). I'd like "permission" to find a balance between feeling very real fears and also not being consumed by them.
Morbid or not, this is gorgeous! I love how you don't hold back - you layer one "until" onto the next, in a way that mirrors the permission you're expressing (permission to feel a thing all the way), and yet you land "back home again." It can be so scary to feel an emotion to its core and tempting to hang at its edges instead. I'm working on giving myself this permission more consistently, too.
Thank you, Lisa! It’s such a good prompt and so surprisingly helpful. You’re reminding me of how my therapist has encouraged me to follow a thought to the end (instead of hanging at its edges, as you said) so that I can see the whole progression of fear/worry/whatever it is I’m holding onto. It’s odd that I have to led into doing that most of the time, which is why this prompt/poem felt like a little gift.
Mmmm, i love the idea of following a thought to its end in that way. That is undoubtedly something for me to work on, too! I'm so glad the prompt felt helpful and that you landed in such a beautiful poem.
It is indeed an act of incredible courage to lean into fear, to ride the full arc of it until it crests and breaks and washes you back up on the sturdy shore of self. Lovely.
Margaret, this is an incredibly powerful, brave and moving poem. My sense is you are writing for so many of us, who may fear the shadows and the difficult, the sad and the sorrow, even as a jorney through them is the best way to a better place. Thank you for writing a poem with so much courage and grit, honesty and power.
Larry—wow. Thank you for your words. This prompt really unlocked something for me. I’m so used to feeling ashamed about my fears and it’s strange (but good) to feel a little freer of that shame.
Came here via Margaret Ann Silver (this time; I know we have coincided before!). This poem is so gorgeous. I resonate strongly with all of it.
I've been hungry for more good poetry subscriptions and this one definitely tipped me over the edge. I love the prompt too! Thanks for doing what you do.
So much suffering comes from measuring ones self with a yardstick calibrated for someone else...I thrill at the permission you're proclaiming in this poem, Larry! So powerful.
"Words that are pointing but never the point" and "I dare you to find a single stone that doesn't shine when wet." Brilliant lines! Love the imagery and the sentiment, and the permission to just be with what is, in all its perfect imperfection.
*
What is it like to ride
astride the wild stallion
whose heart pounds with guilt,
The one who gallops wild-eyed and terrified,
Hooves hammering, sides heaving,
frantic to survive?
I will tell you.
It t feels like riding a razor-thin divide,
desperate for the stallion to slow and
its thunderous heart to subside.
It feels so much like you must turn either
toward Scylla or Charybdis, to ultimately decide
between the lesser of evils available on the outside.
This is brilliant, Keith! So nice to read your poems. When I read your poems, I lovingly feel like someone who, after nailing their sweet pop song at a recital or performance sits down and then listens to the next arrtist play a masterpeice of classical or jazz that rocks the room! Pure joy and wonder!
This is so beautiful! I love the repetition of "permission to." Reading it aloud felt almost trance-like . . . as if through the repetition, I was softening into permission, too. The second stanza is particularly gorgeous and oh so relatable - "drops I didn't feel / until I was soaked throuhg/ and no longer myself, but perception / of your perception of me." Oof!
Hi, Lisa. My Substack friend Mike Speriosu sent me over to read this poem and I'm so glad he did! (He's been helping me appreciate poetry more, although I was already a huge Mary Oliver fan 🙂)
I wanted to say that the first line of your poem, You don't need to always reach for some epiphany, grabbed me instantly (the entire poem, really). I share the sentiment, and even once wrote a very short prose piece about it (it was my very first Substack post). Just the very act of being in nature, and stilling the mind just a little bit to appreciate the presence of it, puts you in a state of grace. Trying to pull something extra out of it, some spiritual "epiphany" or enlightened state, or even just a little message from god, a little boost from heaven, is almost like "being greedy" and, I think, gets you nothing. Sometimes it's hard to grasp that you are already it, in that state of grace, it just doesn't feel the way you expect it to feel because you ARE nature; a fish doesn't say, "Ooh, this water feels so good." haha.
Anyway, if you're interested, I'll include a link (it's very short!). Not trying to get attention, I just think you might like it. 😊💚 Looking forward to reading more of your poems!
Thank you so much for sharing your post, Don! You’re right - I did enjoy it. I’m a forest bathing guide, and everything you wrote about returning to the senses over and over and letting that be enough (rather than trying to “improve” or solidify or save it through thought) really resonates with me. Aaaaand I still love a good epiphany! 😉
Haha me too. That’s right, I did read in your profile that you are a forest therapy guide. How cool! I love trees so much that they seem to keep showing up in most of my posts, even the ones that aren’t nature oriented.
I love how you came about this prompt, Lisa. I have been struggling a bit with writing as much poetry after the rush of May and trying not to beat myself up over it. Giving myself permission to lean into the ebb is not as easy as permission to lean into the flow, but it's what I've been needing.
I feel the same way, A! Taking a week off from posting and a little more than a week off from writing any poems at all felt relaxing and fun on the one hand . . . and on the other, I found fears kicking about like "if I stop, what if I lose my momentum" and even "what if I never write another poem again!" The fact that I've been laughing so much with my siblings all week long makes it a little easier to smile and laugh at my fears, too - and yet, they are there.
Yes, the poem called Mary Oliver to mind for me too! This is just beautiful, Lisa. "I dare you to find a single stone that doesn't shine when wet." It says everything.
The place that’s rich in shining stones is the Pacific Northwest. Beaches and beaches of colored pebbles all jumbled together in a slick bumpy surface that will land you on your keester in a hot second. But oh, the colors! The personality of each stone! Here in Hawai’i, not so much because our rock is jagged lava, and even underwater it looks craggy and sharp. Which it is!
So the day I wrote this was last Wednesday. I had to have an MRI for some persistant tailbone pain; whenever I have something that goes on for more than a few weeks, I usually will let my oncologist know and she likes to rule out anything cancer related (NED for 12 years but I get scans yearly Breast cancer can metastasize and show up years later). Anyway, long story short, I was going to give myself permission to not worry and not get all worked up but...it didn't exactly work. Also, everything is fine - no cancer, just a broke butt!!
I am so glad you are cancer free and "just" have a broke butt, but a broke butt still sounds terrible! I hope it resolves soon. Karri, this poem is beautiful. I love the repetition of "i wasn't going to cry today" - it says so much, and I can really relate to the whole idea of trying to be the good patient and always look on the bright side and keep the jokes flowing . . . and to the reality that sometimes that's just not possible and the tears need to flow. Thank you so much for sharing this!
I'm so glad you got better news than cancer! I hope your broke butt is healing well, though. Sometimes I need permission to worry and just let it out, too.
"This poem emerged once I stopped trying to make it happen. I headed out for a walk on the beach, thinking that I “needed” to write a poem to share with you all. For me at least, that sort of pressurized energy shuts creativity down rather than fueling it. So I gave myself permission to not write a poem. And that permission-giving ended up prompting a poem after all."
I can't force it. And what a lovely poem you got when you stopped.
Thank you, LeeAnn! It’s such a funny paradox, isn’t it - that being attached to an outcome is such a barrier, and relaxing opens all the windows and doors.
Most days I have to remember
I exist
I have permission to exist
To take up space
To use my voice, my hands, my heart
I have permission to ask for what I want
And to believe I might get it
To believe the people who love me
WANT to give me what I want
It's a small thing
Seems I should know I have permission
To exist
But it's easy to forget when one was raised
To only consider the Other
Never one's Self
And when one's Self is naturally
Attuned to the Other
But for today
I exist
For me
This is beautiful, Jacy! Reading your poem feels like I'm being granted this permission, too . . . which runs counter to my socialization, as well. I love how poetry does that - how it finds universality in particularity.
What a lovely insight, Lisa!
Oof--I feel these lines along with you:
"I have permission to ask for what I want
And to believe I might get it
To believe the people who love me
WANT to give me what I want"
These lines really struck me, too!
I needed this reminder today.
Beautiful and inspiring!
This is lovely, Jacy! bnd rings so true and real. So often it is so hard to give ourselves permission for anything that can be termed "selfish, self indulgent, self absorbing... Your well crafted and beautiful poem is a beautiful permssion slip in poetic form! Thank you!
Your poem is so lovely. I'm especially struck by "I dare you to find anything on this yawning stretch of sand that isn’t already perfect."
And, as always, such a generous prompt. I hope my poem isn't too morbid-sounding. I just get frustrated with how I don't let myself feel certain things sometimes (and other times it seems like all I can do is feel). I'd like "permission" to find a balance between feeling very real fears and also not being consumed by them.
Permission to be afraid
.
May I sit with this fear for a while
not pushing myself to let it go
not scolding myself for scenarios
.
but instead letting fear wash over me
carrying me deep into its sea
until I drown in its darker waves
until my body floats to the shore
until the eyes are snatched from my skull
until my bones turn white and then brown
until my hair is plucked up by birds
to line the nests for their solemn eggs
until I’m forgotten and forgotten again
until it is like I was never here?
.
May I let myself go that far into fear
and then let myself drift back home again
and find myself lying on the sand
alive and with eyes and a full head of hair
finished with being afraid for now?
Morbid or not, this is gorgeous! I love how you don't hold back - you layer one "until" onto the next, in a way that mirrors the permission you're expressing (permission to feel a thing all the way), and yet you land "back home again." It can be so scary to feel an emotion to its core and tempting to hang at its edges instead. I'm working on giving myself this permission more consistently, too.
Thank you, Lisa! It’s such a good prompt and so surprisingly helpful. You’re reminding me of how my therapist has encouraged me to follow a thought to the end (instead of hanging at its edges, as you said) so that I can see the whole progression of fear/worry/whatever it is I’m holding onto. It’s odd that I have to led into doing that most of the time, which is why this prompt/poem felt like a little gift.
Mmmm, i love the idea of following a thought to its end in that way. That is undoubtedly something for me to work on, too! I'm so glad the prompt felt helpful and that you landed in such a beautiful poem.
It is indeed an act of incredible courage to lean into fear, to ride the full arc of it until it crests and breaks and washes you back up on the sturdy shore of self. Lovely.
Thank you, Keith :).
Oh, I love this, Margaret. I need this, too.
Thank you, A 💛.
Margaret, this is an incredibly powerful, brave and moving poem. My sense is you are writing for so many of us, who may fear the shadows and the difficult, the sad and the sorrow, even as a jorney through them is the best way to a better place. Thank you for writing a poem with so much courage and grit, honesty and power.
Larry—wow. Thank you for your words. This prompt really unlocked something for me. I’m so used to feeling ashamed about my fears and it’s strange (but good) to feel a little freer of that shame.
Thank you for sharing so courageously and honestly, Margaret.
I feel this so much! I can’t seem to feel fear or anxiety without it being the end all be all worst case scenario! You put that into words perfectly!
Thank you, Karri! Yes, it’s so hard to spiral down into the worst-case scenarios (and stay there).
Came here via Margaret Ann Silver (this time; I know we have coincided before!). This poem is so gorgeous. I resonate strongly with all of it.
I've been hungry for more good poetry subscriptions and this one definitely tipped me over the edge. I love the prompt too! Thanks for doing what you do.
Thank you so much, Mike. I’m so glad to have you here!
Mike, this is one of my very favorites places! Welcome!
OUTRAGE FATIGUE
.
.
Stop coming at me
with your breaking news,
expecting my jaw to drop again.
and again.
and again.
and again.
I need permission to stop giving a shit.
“Expecting my jaw to drop again” - so well put!
I guess that's what they bank on nowadays
Echo this, Chuck. We need the news to break, or to give us a break!
Amen, larry.😵
Oof, yes!
A-freaking-men!!!!
So nice to be back among such lively and lovely poets!
Permission Granted
^
In a society of measures and measurements,
and no concern with whether the instruments being used
match the person, item, emotion, feeling being measured,
it is an act of radical resistance,
of rebellious revolution,
of courage and brave heart
to refuse to be measured.
To throw the measuring devices away
and proclaim,
“I will not be measured.
I will not exist in boxes
I will not move in a linear fashion.”
Permission to be a radical resister,
a passionate revolutionary
Is granted.
Refuse to be measured . . . I love this, Larry! Your contributions in this space have certainly been immeasurable. 🧡
What a nice and kind thing to say! Thank you Lisa!
So much suffering comes from measuring ones self with a yardstick calibrated for someone else...I thrill at the permission you're proclaiming in this poem, Larry! So powerful.
Thank you Keith!
I love the idea of not moving in a linear fashion!!! I have found myself being quite cyclical lately!
Trust those cycles, Karri!’ And the winding journeys!
This one feels really powerful, Larry. So glad to have you back!
I am ecstatic to return!
(Whiffs of hendrix, If 6 was 9)
Wave your freak flag high.
Blessings to Jimi Hendrix, missed all these years, and that flag has been with me early on!
I am trapped in a poem
stumble over syllables
trip on triemes
run to escape a broken enjambnent
I fall deep into a nest of ghazals
escape, edge past a desert of despair
I walk in beauty
discover a line not taken
fail to dodge the slash of an edit
“Fail to dodge the slash of an edit.” I love this, Kim!
Thank you Lisa!
This really evoked a comic-bookesque adventure of poetic peril for me. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you Keith
Heeeeelp….
“Your courage has become unscrewed from the sticking place inside.” This is so beautiful, Keith! Permission or penance - that rings so true to me.
"Words that are pointing but never the point" and "I dare you to find a single stone that doesn't shine when wet." Brilliant lines! Love the imagery and the sentiment, and the permission to just be with what is, in all its perfect imperfection.
*
What is it like to ride
astride the wild stallion
whose heart pounds with guilt,
The one who gallops wild-eyed and terrified,
Hooves hammering, sides heaving,
frantic to survive?
I will tell you.
It t feels like riding a razor-thin divide,
desperate for the stallion to slow and
its thunderous heart to subside.
It feels so much like you must turn either
toward Scylla or Charybdis, to ultimately decide
between the lesser of evils available on the outside.
It feels this way because your courage
has become unscrewed
from the sticking place inside.
And without the light of your own brilliance,
you dimly see only either permission or penance,
the only options you can remember having tried
to quiet your runaway stallion and stay alive.
This is brilliant, Keith! So nice to read your poems. When I read your poems, I lovingly feel like someone who, after nailing their sweet pop song at a recital or performance sits down and then listens to the next arrtist play a masterpeice of classical or jazz that rocks the room! Pure joy and wonder!
Haha! Thanks so much, Larry. It's always - without fail - a pleasure to read your poems, too. So glad to be part of this wonderful community with you!
Me as well! Peace be with you, Keith!
The rhythm and rhyming of this is wonderful.
Thank you, A.
Permission to enter
this hold of hurts
too soft to say out loud.
.
Permission to study
drops I didn’t feel
until I was soaked through
and no longer myself, but my perception
of your perception of me.
.
Permission to repeat
words that only warbled
during my displacement,
words that attenuated and drowned.
.
Permission to retrace
the river between us,
to hatch incrementally
as she gives back her streams.
.
Permission to laugh
as I run aground.
This is so beautiful! I love the repetition of "permission to." Reading it aloud felt almost trance-like . . . as if through the repetition, I was softening into permission, too. The second stanza is particularly gorgeous and oh so relatable - "drops I didn't feel / until I was soaked throuhg/ and no longer myself, but perception / of your perception of me." Oof!
"Permission to laugh as I run aground"...may we all give ourselves this permission! Brilliant, Rebekah.
Hi, Lisa. My Substack friend Mike Speriosu sent me over to read this poem and I'm so glad he did! (He's been helping me appreciate poetry more, although I was already a huge Mary Oliver fan 🙂)
I wanted to say that the first line of your poem, You don't need to always reach for some epiphany, grabbed me instantly (the entire poem, really). I share the sentiment, and even once wrote a very short prose piece about it (it was my very first Substack post). Just the very act of being in nature, and stilling the mind just a little bit to appreciate the presence of it, puts you in a state of grace. Trying to pull something extra out of it, some spiritual "epiphany" or enlightened state, or even just a little message from god, a little boost from heaven, is almost like "being greedy" and, I think, gets you nothing. Sometimes it's hard to grasp that you are already it, in that state of grace, it just doesn't feel the way you expect it to feel because you ARE nature; a fish doesn't say, "Ooh, this water feels so good." haha.
Anyway, if you're interested, I'll include a link (it's very short!). Not trying to get attention, I just think you might like it. 😊💚 Looking forward to reading more of your poems!
https://open.substack.com/pub/donboivin/p/hathaways-pond-insight-trial-post?r=2ywgky&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web
Thank you so much for sharing your post, Don! You’re right - I did enjoy it. I’m a forest bathing guide, and everything you wrote about returning to the senses over and over and letting that be enough (rather than trying to “improve” or solidify or save it through thought) really resonates with me. Aaaaand I still love a good epiphany! 😉
Haha me too. That’s right, I did read in your profile that you are a forest therapy guide. How cool! I love trees so much that they seem to keep showing up in most of my posts, even the ones that aren’t nature oriented.
If I were to remove all the trees and birds from my poems, there wouldn't be much left!
This is a wonderful insight, Don! Thank you!
Thanks, Larry. That’s nice to hear :-)
I love how you came about this prompt, Lisa. I have been struggling a bit with writing as much poetry after the rush of May and trying not to beat myself up over it. Giving myself permission to lean into the ebb is not as easy as permission to lean into the flow, but it's what I've been needing.
I feel the same way, A! Taking a week off from posting and a little more than a week off from writing any poems at all felt relaxing and fun on the one hand . . . and on the other, I found fears kicking about like "if I stop, what if I lose my momentum" and even "what if I never write another poem again!" The fact that I've been laughing so much with my siblings all week long makes it a little easier to smile and laugh at my fears, too - and yet, they are there.
A., I love that phrase: "Giving myself permission to lean into the ebb is not as easy as permission to lean into the flow..." wow!
Yes, the poem called Mary Oliver to mind for me too! This is just beautiful, Lisa. "I dare you to find a single stone that doesn't shine when wet." It says everything.
Thank you so much, Priscilla! I imagine you get to have all sorts of lovely encounters with shining stones in Maui.
The place that’s rich in shining stones is the Pacific Northwest. Beaches and beaches of colored pebbles all jumbled together in a slick bumpy surface that will land you on your keester in a hot second. But oh, the colors! The personality of each stone! Here in Hawai’i, not so much because our rock is jagged lava, and even underwater it looks craggy and sharp. Which it is!
I guess it’s appropriate that I wrote this poem while strolling a beach on the Oregon coast, then!
So the day I wrote this was last Wednesday. I had to have an MRI for some persistant tailbone pain; whenever I have something that goes on for more than a few weeks, I usually will let my oncologist know and she likes to rule out anything cancer related (NED for 12 years but I get scans yearly Breast cancer can metastasize and show up years later). Anyway, long story short, I was going to give myself permission to not worry and not get all worked up but...it didn't exactly work. Also, everything is fine - no cancer, just a broke butt!!
I wasn’t going to cry today,
I’m feeling so much better.
Less depression, less obsession,
I can do hard things.
I cracked a joke as I checked in,
It really didn’t matter.
Just the facts and copay ma’am,
You can have a seat.
..
I wasn’t going to cry today,
They called me back quite quickly.
The hum as magnetic machines,
Work to detect what’s wrong.
My brave façade and attitude,
Started to fade abruptly.
By the fourth failed needle stick
The tears threatened to fall.
..
I wasn’t going to cry today,
I followed the instructions.
Just lie still, relax, don’t move
A button just in case.
Visions of what if filled my mind
I just want to be normal.
Without a test or scan or fear,
Each time I feel an ache.
..
I wasn’t going to cry today,
I pulled myself together.
A bright farewell, and work like hell
To not try and read faces.
Back in the car, I don’t break down,
Just sigh and take a deep breath.
And start the clock on waiting for
Whatever news may come.
I am so glad you are cancer free and "just" have a broke butt, but a broke butt still sounds terrible! I hope it resolves soon. Karri, this poem is beautiful. I love the repetition of "i wasn't going to cry today" - it says so much, and I can really relate to the whole idea of trying to be the good patient and always look on the bright side and keep the jokes flowing . . . and to the reality that sometimes that's just not possible and the tears need to flow. Thank you so much for sharing this!
I'm so glad you got better news than cancer! I hope your broke butt is healing well, though. Sometimes I need permission to worry and just let it out, too.
Beautiful. ♥️
💜💜💜
Beautiful poem Lisa. Maybe my favorite of what I’ve read from you.
Thank you so much, Billy! That’s lovely to hear.
I so relate to this:
"This poem emerged once I stopped trying to make it happen. I headed out for a walk on the beach, thinking that I “needed” to write a poem to share with you all. For me at least, that sort of pressurized energy shuts creativity down rather than fueling it. So I gave myself permission to not write a poem. And that permission-giving ended up prompting a poem after all."
I can't force it. And what a lovely poem you got when you stopped.
Thank you, LeeAnn! It’s such a funny paradox, isn’t it - that being attached to an outcome is such a barrier, and relaxing opens all the windows and doors.