Thank you for this poetry you just wrote! What is the meaning behind the meaning of meaning? Feelings ineffable. The spoken word a door. A space that opens up into silence. An invitation to reveal a knowing that already exists beyond a spelling. A spell that casts us into the bones. Of home. Thanks for seeing beyond, between, and below the words. 🙏❤️
I love your songs! Sounds like you have been on a wild ride the past few years. Keep singing and writing! We need you. The western isles and outer Hebrides are a special place. Amazing to touch that same energy! Bless you! Thanks for sharing your gift 🙏❤️
Do you go often? I’ve another poem from the those isles where the wild roses grow. Will post soon. The wild ride has been an amazing waking up to life. I appreciate every moment. I was teaching tai chi on the uists just a few weeks ago and playing and singing with a French blues guitarist in the cowshed hostel that sits over uig.
I Iove words, but words are not enough. Lately, l have been finding out that our written and oral language cannot fully and completely express our range of emotions, our feelings, even our thoughts. Our language constrains us. It might be better to stay silent to fill the gaps.
Thanks Perry! We are limited by our language indeed. Especially English. With that said, most emotions and feelings are ineffable. That’s why I write to know. To invite some thing forward. To sit with it. To set it free. The only way I know how. Bless you. Thank you so much for reading. 🙏❤️
This poem reaches deep into inner experience - and articulates the 'result' in such a flowing way to the openness of life. Birds always make my heart sing and I sometimes get that sense they are the ones who are free, and I'm the one in a cage - or at least I'm the one who has become a 'domesticated animal' and have lost the wildness of my deeper nature. Ah well, poetry to the rescue again. 😊
Thanks Josh! Definitely feel the same way! Thanks for reading and for reaching out. Poetry helps me lean into that freedom. It’s as close as I get to wings. 🙏❤️
This is my fav poem of yours so far Jamie. Beautifully written. Every word has meaning for me. And as in the comment below - the spaces in between. They sing to me. It's a song, a composition. As many musicians will say - it's the space between the pressing of the piano keys that creates the music. The space between, the pause, holds everything. The meaning of the words can express themselves in those moments.
I have a quote on my website which resonates so much for me regarding how and why we write:
“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.” –Anaïs Nin
Thanks Jo! You just helped me taste this poem twice! Thank you for always meeting me in those spaces between the words. Thank you for appreciating the metaphors. Thank you for singing along with me. Thanks for being witness. Bless you 🙏❤️
Oh, this is wonderful. I love the part about pity looking up from the paper who cuts you to remind you to be alive! Wow, that is powerfully said. Thank you, Jamie.
We write to know! I resonate with your words, the birds outside who sing their knowing and watch. “Pity looks up from the paper
I used to write on
More real than this screen
I miss the feel of its edges”
I have missed the capacity to physically write in my journal —morning pages—the past 8 weeks of surgery rehab, although some days I wrote with my left hand and that can feel like soul-wisdom coming thru. Or inner kid wisdom. Just this week I have strength for a page of inked words and it feels like getting back a vital piece of myself. Thank you for sharing your words and knowing!!! 🙏🤗
Thank you for sharing this! This is so amazingly written. I love the several layers of the poem and your description. There is a world behind this world and behind this world. Freedom lies within us. Being unconditional is freedom. What do we expect to gain from freedom? Whether it is financial freedom or freedom of choices, I guess we all just want to be who we are. 🙏💕 Sending you lots of Love.
Thanks Sadhbh! Makes me think of Greek mythology and Daedalus. He never needed to build those wings of wax. Metaphorically he already knew how to fly. He was always free. Never a captive. Technology is wonderful yet at the same time it seems to enclose us as well. Thanks for reading and reaching out 🙏❤️
I like this poem and your own commentary. This last 2 years for me has been perforce until recently spent mostly behind glass. Last summer for a week or so I had a fledged warbler in the leafy flowering bush outside my window. 'Her' interest naturally was in getting fed and preparing for a very long journey. They are back again this year and there has been a lot of singing.
Aah ... your references ... and Heaney and his word-hoard, his 'voice-right'. I have been reading recently his translation of Beowulf. In the introduction he quotes Polish poet Anna Swir: 'the equivalent to a biological right to life', and then goes on to say, 'The erotics of composition are essential to the process ...'
I get glimpses of these weddings in your writing. Returning again this morning I thought of Walter Benjamin and The 'Storm blowing from Paradise' and the words that help us pick our way through history into the third millennium, and of the birds who sing of what we cannot say.
“and of the birds who sing of what we cannot say.” Phillip your words ooze of wonder! I’ve met very few in this world that can connect the dots, so poetically as you do. Your writing is a gift and the way you reply here is a poem. Thank you for always sharing your wisdom here. I appreciate you 🙏❤️
Metaphor metaphor allegory. Poetry is and isn’t in the words. Not what is said but what is felt, is in the power of spelling that which can’t be spelled.
I love that poem. We are all behind screens, Of light and of shadow. The spoken poem has its silences to allow the filling of gaps.
Thank you for this poetry you just wrote! What is the meaning behind the meaning of meaning? Feelings ineffable. The spoken word a door. A space that opens up into silence. An invitation to reveal a knowing that already exists beyond a spelling. A spell that casts us into the bones. Of home. Thanks for seeing beyond, between, and below the words.
Thank you for this poetry you just wrote! What is the meaning behind the meaning of meaning? Feelings ineffable. The spoken word a door. A space that opens up into silence. An invitation to reveal a knowing that already exists beyond a spelling. A spell that casts us into the bones. Of home. Thanks for seeing beyond, between, and below the words. 🙏❤️
Your poem brought me back to place I hadn’t visited for some time. So thank you.
I love your songs! Sounds like you have been on a wild ride the past few years. Keep singing and writing! We need you. The western isles and outer Hebrides are a special place. Amazing to touch that same energy! Bless you! Thanks for sharing your gift 🙏❤️
Do you go often? I’ve another poem from the those isles where the wild roses grow. Will post soon. The wild ride has been an amazing waking up to life. I appreciate every moment. I was teaching tai chi on the uists just a few weeks ago and playing and singing with a French blues guitarist in the cowshed hostel that sits over uig.
Wow! What a beautiful place to teach and sing. I sent you a private note.
I Iove words, but words are not enough. Lately, l have been finding out that our written and oral language cannot fully and completely express our range of emotions, our feelings, even our thoughts. Our language constrains us. It might be better to stay silent to fill the gaps.
Thanks Perry! We are limited by our language indeed. Especially English. With that said, most emotions and feelings are ineffable. That’s why I write to know. To invite some thing forward. To sit with it. To set it free. The only way I know how. Bless you. Thank you so much for reading. 🙏❤️
Oh yes! I love this! That's why poetry is so important, because it is the spaces between the lines that carry most of the meaning.
This poem reaches deep into inner experience - and articulates the 'result' in such a flowing way to the openness of life. Birds always make my heart sing and I sometimes get that sense they are the ones who are free, and I'm the one in a cage - or at least I'm the one who has become a 'domesticated animal' and have lost the wildness of my deeper nature. Ah well, poetry to the rescue again. 😊
Thanks Josh! Definitely feel the same way! Thanks for reading and for reaching out. Poetry helps me lean into that freedom. It’s as close as I get to wings. 🙏❤️
"I write to be free."
You have expressed it all so perfectly. Thank you Jamie :). God Bless you. ox
Thanks Deb! Bless you a speedy recovery 🙏❤️
This is my fav poem of yours so far Jamie. Beautifully written. Every word has meaning for me. And as in the comment below - the spaces in between. They sing to me. It's a song, a composition. As many musicians will say - it's the space between the pressing of the piano keys that creates the music. The space between, the pause, holds everything. The meaning of the words can express themselves in those moments.
I have a quote on my website which resonates so much for me regarding how and why we write:
“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.” –Anaïs Nin
Thanks Jamie. 😊🌻
Thanks Jo! You just helped me taste this poem twice! Thank you for always meeting me in those spaces between the words. Thank you for appreciating the metaphors. Thank you for singing along with me. Thanks for being witness. Bless you 🙏❤️
Oh, this is wonderful. I love the part about pity looking up from the paper who cuts you to remind you to be alive! Wow, that is powerfully said. Thank you, Jamie.
Thanks Jenn! Glad those words painted a picture. Thanks for your support. 🙏❤️
You are welcome!
Words made flesh. Lovely, as always. Keep setting those wordbirds free.
Thanks Muriel for the inspiration. Words on wings finding the flesh of faith. Bless you 🙏❤️
We write to know! I resonate with your words, the birds outside who sing their knowing and watch. “Pity looks up from the paper
I used to write on
More real than this screen
I miss the feel of its edges”
I have missed the capacity to physically write in my journal —morning pages—the past 8 weeks of surgery rehab, although some days I wrote with my left hand and that can feel like soul-wisdom coming thru. Or inner kid wisdom. Just this week I have strength for a page of inked words and it feels like getting back a vital piece of myself. Thank you for sharing your words and knowing!!! 🙏🤗
Thanks Shelly! Am thrilled those thumbs are writing to know once again! Soul wisdom wonderful! 🙏❤️
Thank you for sharing this! This is so amazingly written. I love the several layers of the poem and your description. There is a world behind this world and behind this world. Freedom lies within us. Being unconditional is freedom. What do we expect to gain from freedom? Whether it is financial freedom or freedom of choices, I guess we all just want to be who we are. 🙏💕 Sending you lots of Love.
Thanks Sadhbh! Makes me think of Greek mythology and Daedalus. He never needed to build those wings of wax. Metaphorically he already knew how to fly. He was always free. Never a captive. Technology is wonderful yet at the same time it seems to enclose us as well. Thanks for reading and reaching out 🙏❤️
Yes! I agree!
Thanks Ayesha
I like this poem and your own commentary. This last 2 years for me has been perforce until recently spent mostly behind glass. Last summer for a week or so I had a fledged warbler in the leafy flowering bush outside my window. 'Her' interest naturally was in getting fed and preparing for a very long journey. They are back again this year and there has been a lot of singing.
Aah ... your references ... and Heaney and his word-hoard, his 'voice-right'. I have been reading recently his translation of Beowulf. In the introduction he quotes Polish poet Anna Swir: 'the equivalent to a biological right to life', and then goes on to say, 'The erotics of composition are essential to the process ...'
I get glimpses of these weddings in your writing. Returning again this morning I thought of Walter Benjamin and The 'Storm blowing from Paradise' and the words that help us pick our way through history into the third millennium, and of the birds who sing of what we cannot say.
“and of the birds who sing of what we cannot say.” Phillip your words ooze of wonder! I’ve met very few in this world that can connect the dots, so poetically as you do. Your writing is a gift and the way you reply here is a poem. Thank you for always sharing your wisdom here. I appreciate you 🙏❤️
Metaphor metaphor allegory. Poetry is and isn’t in the words. Not what is said but what is felt, is in the power of spelling that which can’t be spelled.
I love that poem. We are all behind screens, Of light and of shadow. The spoken poem has its silences to allow the filling of gaps.
Thank you for this poetry you just wrote! What is the meaning behind the meaning of meaning? Feelings ineffable. The spoken word a door. A space that opens up into silence. An invitation to reveal a knowing that already exists beyond a spelling. A spell that casts us into the bones. Of home. Thanks for seeing beyond, between, and below the words.