Poems by Maureen Meshenberg

Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg is an author and a prolific poetess, guided by her inner soul’s journey and musings about life. She draws from her human experiences, bringing reflective soulful thoughts of the heart. Maureen’s most recent work includes a Facebook page called Heart’s Calling where she currently reaches 3,000 regular readers. She also writes for Journey at the Heart Blog, Women’s Spiritual Poetry from which seven of her poems were selected to be published in an August 2014 Anthology of poetesses called: Journey of The Heart: An Anthology of Spiritual Poetry by Women. Maureen’s Debut book Seasons of the Soul:Transitions and Shifts of Life was released on November 7th 2014.

Poem 30
What Transcends

what transcends
tragedy
the world in catastrophe
what pains the world
until it bleeds
what brings to our humanity
breath of life
bring transgressors
to their knees
when courage prevails
when the world
flails
for its survival
revivers of the human spirit
facing the fiery breath
of fear
they slay the dragons of power
run towards adversity
with tenacity
and valor
they dust off our anguish
they eclipse pass
the darkest hour
pull the child
from the rubble of
earth’s shattering
young girl
standing strong for women’s
right to learn
when the blow of death fails
yes their courage prevails
for when the dust settles
what triumphs and transcends
over hatred’s agony
what’s left standing
are the soul heroes of humanity.

—

Poem 29
Haiku- A Poem, My Wish

etched upon your heart
syllables holding your soul
eternally yours.

—

What the World Holds

the world it holds
so much injury
death’s breath upon
life’s beating
it continues
in its blood
to bone aching
how from end to end
horizon to sky
we may not know
the whys
to what seems to
swallow the world
whole in pain
I breathe in
your pain
as I hold you
in my soul
I am a part of the whole
and the whole is one
and the sun still lifts her glow
upon her rising
a child still plays and laughs
our days merge into memories
we gather now
in resilience rising
to hold each up
and through
tragedy’s peering eyes
always upon our
living
dying
rising
being
more than anything
we are survivors of the
world’s breaking
hatred making
what unbalances the scales
it seems
but in the end
our hearts win
and the stories of
those who rose above
before us
holding our world
in sacred love.

—

Voice poem
Cento dedicated to Joni Mitchell

I’m like a black crow
flying in a blue sky
sky in your eyes
spinning the rainbows
weaving the wind
feathered canyons
everywhere
clouds got in my way
got to get ourselves
back to the garden
find a river
I can skate away on
but it stays
pretty green here
constant as
a Northern star
where there is so much
sweetness in the dark
see love from
both sides now
life’s illusions
teach my feet
to fly
turning into butterflies
stardust and golden
got to get back to
paradise.

—

You Are

You are
a thousand suns that
rise upon my todays
You are
the stars that burst and
scattered upon my yesterdays
You are
the first life born
death passing into eternity.

You are
love unconditionally
You are
the garden that blooms
to earth
to sea
to the oldest rooted tree
to inside of me
in my soul I see You are.

You are
the names
that spark
our hope
passions our desire
for living
loving
belonging
being.

You are
the moon
the planets
the milky way sky
the earth we call our own
but is not really
ours to own
we are just
passing through.

You are
the bright in my darkness
the fire in my heart
I hold as light
lighting my way
that connects with
hundreds more
a galaxy of beings
ignited in believing You are.

You are
more than
one single name
created by
the ancient tongues
of many
spoken by
the breath within us
You are.

—

My Tender Morning

my tender morning,
draws me to gratefulness-
choice of my being,
open to its beginning-
if I rest in the,
quiet rapturing-
settling between,
ordinary and miracle-
life to death to life,
human to soul being-
life opens its,
eyes to me-
song birds hold,
the morning sky-
without hesitation,
I but one small speck-
of living,
how do I hold this-
space with respectful gratitude,
how I can see-
it is all connected,
to a greater eternity-
besides the minutes,
that tick upon our-
often mundane lives,
it’s the ordinary living-
that cracks open,
life to memories-
framed pictures upon,
our empty walls-
moments of blessings,
swelling within our hearts.

—

In perfect Sight

In perfect sight the monarch butterflies of Santa Cruz , plumed upon high branches-like autumn leaves with orange hues traced with black gathering, dropping down clusters of delicate beauty. In silent waiting, fluttering wisps opened to the breathing air while the ocean sun spread its light across the setting sky. Gently their movement stirred inside of me, taking the seconds of this moment-beauty-touching, awe inspiring me, living ecstasy. As the warming rays touched their delicate clusters, their freeing movement kissed the sun as it slipped behind clouds-dusk touching dark, as the monarch butterflies ever so softly filled the waiting night.

—

Poem 21

A Cento, all the lines of your new poem come from poems written by other poets.

Cento in Latin means “patchwork.”

These lines of poetry were created by all the Poetesses who wrote poems for the “Sisterhood” Chapter for,

~ Journey of the Heart: An Anthology of Spiritual Poetry by Women ~

I Honor you and your words~

I wear this memory of bonding love

and intrinsic peace like a shawl

this is a call for women

to know and believe

hearts tenderly held

in sisterhood of love

stretching out their hearts

opening their arms to hold you

she is the hand of kindness

holds the broken heart in her palm

words like a bag of candles

I see you in each gamelan tune

and echo of the gongs

oh yes she emerges

the woman inside

she is a close friend

of plant and ally of ancient ways

you inspire my inner journey

barefoot mama, on a mission

to strength the sisterhood of souls

she is maiden, mother and wise old crone

to women who wipe my tears, I bow.

—

Understand

if I understand,
the flow of all my thoughts
that holds my attention
what is my intention
to figuring out the whys.

and what I think I understand
am I just being delusional
or am I just irrational
trying to make it all believable
when it comes to giving it a try.

what frustrates me is when
I think I understand,
and the eye is quicker than the hand,
nothing is how it was planned
sinking into my mind’s quicksand.

when I find myself unable to understand
when life switches off
like a light switch just like that
wandering now in my dark,
in nomad’s land.

maybe it’s not about understanding
stopping the pretending
release the final ending
the turning of a blank page

I may not know all the answers,
all I have is my truth
the one that holds my soul
to peace breathing me back to life
I don’t have to understand every single why.

—

What will always remain
(a villanelle)

what falls apart and fades away
what becomes different and stays the same
what is a part of the whole, will always remain.

yesterday become but a memory
gentle song humming its last refrain
what falls apart and fades away.

dust to earth, to sky, to shine
start dust our eternal flame
what is a part of the whole, will always remain.

impermanence holds the cycles of living
this life we live is not ours to claim
what falls apart and fades away.

love’s eternal breath, passes through death
we can hold it as truth or cling to it as pain
what is a part of the whole, will always remain.

as leaf is to branch, to earth, to grave
no regrets or judgments or someone to blame
what falls apart and fades away.

life in its measure, it seconds of time
no use fighting it or voicing our final complaint
what falls apart and fades away
what is a part of the whole, will always remain.

—

Comfort Takes Me

comfort takes me
swaddles me
sometimes as I
fold inward
finding rest
in my inner sanctuary
a shelter to my recovery
holding me to sweet serenity.
sometimes
the outside of me
screams with
tormenting chattering
breaking the silence
of my quietude
exudes through me
ripping me away
from my silent mainstay.
what opens me
to comforting
outside of me
floating fluidly
out on life’s waters
iridescent blue awakening
easing me to gravitating
to surrendering
to vulnerability
anchored to my
becalming tranquility
love’s unconditional embrace
as I hang onto this anchor
of grace
let what is tight
loosen
what is split open
find its balm
taking comfort
through the opening
and closing of me.

—

Take Note of the Words

take note
of the words
scribed
upon my soul
their story
imprinted
into my heart.
when they give rest
on weeping days
of rain
clouds that crouch
in deep
upon a smooth
grey sky
settling.
cradling cup in
hand I
rise with these
words
they rest upon
my night
slip into
my waking dreams
take me close
to your journey.
the ending
brings me to
my beginning
the in between words
folds inside me
as a thread
through me
bringing meaning
to my breaking
healing
bringing me
to whole.

—

A Found Poem

when things fall apart

the moment of truth

becomes the telling room

be moved

far from ordinary

be bold

be free

be truthful

it’s humbling

tough

and exciting

the world will follow joy

the west wind

with dark horses

run

wild

road less travel

purpose driven

shift happens

make it a smarter summer

soft white with strawberries

purple hibiscus

our natural heritage

life

sweet n’ low

honey with cream

it’s a million little things

smooth earthly notes

unleashed.

—

Do opposites really attract?

the opposite of me
could be the right side
of you
what I don’t believe in
could be your truth
pompous
pious
pretentious
who me?
what I say I am
do I do?
or do you-“do”
what I really want too?
smoke and mirrors
intelligent illusions
I know more than
you know
books tell me so
but hey I’m street smart
years make me wise
youth holds
smooth skin beauty
but wrinkles become you
grow old
live young
I am too far to the left
of your right
for me to see
the straight line
between us
do opposites
really attract?
when all the
thoughts
words
rants
debates
things
skin
bones
fall to dust
we settle into
the same cold earth
tossing our truths
inside our heads
while we lay
in our guilt ridden beds
we live
we
die
we all
bleed red.

—

The Weight of the World

the weight of the world,

does not belong to you-

collapsing on your life,

brick on brick-

concrete sorrow and pain,

inside your mind-stay-

crushing your life,

from the inside out.

lift them up gently,

raise them like-

feathers from your,

tear stained hands-

let them float high,

in the sky-

of your mind.

when overwhelm comes,

to take charge-

over you,

living life is life living-

climb out from,

your heavy holding-

see that your are,

more than what-

keeps you there.

your brilliant,

passion choice-

poised and ready,

to see your life-

is there,

waiting for you-

to live it.

the seconds we,

let slip away,

choosing to live-

life the hard way,

find your dreams-

rising from,

the debris-

break free.

—

The Story of Who We Are

the story of who you

are rests between

mundane and pain

and memories that

break like

fragments of time.

comings and goings

and holding it

all in sometimes.

the story of who I am

what you believe

and see what

breaks the silent

smile screaming

we all have tears

that cry inside

shouting from our

minds why?

the story of who

we are different

and the same

passion upon our

soul waking

what gives us our

lives back

to choose laughter

over pain.

the story we choose

to touch the rain and

let it fall in

our hearts

like spring

to feel bloom

to break through air

crack the chrysalis

and fly.

the story of who

have been

life breathing life

death calling

to pass

this container

we call body

our world

our story.

This story

we birth inside

and out of us

living and dying

we rise like

the wind that holds

the sky gently

as we enter and leave

the story of who

we are.

—

In my Dreams I Fly

running and spilling
across my blue diamond
sky smeared with star dust

fire red rising high
clouds expand against dark rain
free falling breath gasps

heart racing movement
floating imagination
thoughts grasp timeless sleep

catch the edge of night
raging storm steals morning’s rise
I whisper to me

time will escape me
I expand my feathered arms
oh my I can fly

watch the universe
a thousand galaxies spin
twirling with movement

I move so freely
catching the sky in my arms
I am a sky dove.

—

What Splits the Seconds

what split the seconds,

of thoughts that spill-

from my mind,

from my soul-

flowing through me,

like the crimson red blood-

that touches air from my veins,

words that breaks my-

inner silence,

my inner speak-

coming through my skin-

they vibrate passion from me,

what brings my quick response-

almost uncontrollable and also certain,

they come like,

droplets of water,

sometimes like honey-

sweet with the,

nectar of beauty resting-

sometimes like shards,

of brokenness-

reaching to touch yours,

as I live this one life-

coming to my rising,

and falling of words-

that pour out,

from the spout of,

my being-

I do not resist,

but let them come,

as I press pen against paper-

bringing them to exist,

outside the inner world of me.

—

My Three Selves

young selfie:

I was vibrant,

full of life and love that-

held my soul,

my guitar strumming through-

songs that embraced my poetry,

feeling the spirit of God rush-

through me,

giving me,

purpose of living.

mom selfie:

I became a labeled version,

of myself-

hiding behind the title-

of overbearing mom,

onset menopausal craze-

that seem to raise,

my emotions to a level-

of distortion and drama,

my selfie sometimes tolerable-

but holding me hostage inside.

now selfie:

I saw the excuses,

pour out of you-

and yet it all,

turned into pain-

as your dull eyes,

wet with your aching-

broke you wide open,

loss of years; marriage dissipating.

young selfie:

the countenance of who,

you are is still-

inside of you,

she is the bridge that-

takes you pass the

gap of trepidation.

mom selfie:

ah yes but not,

every picture reveals-

who you are,

your smiling face-

often holds the trouble inside,

I suppose everyone does.

now selfie:

I embrace all of me,

the we intertwined-

becoming the selfie,

that I am.

the words I write,

crack and wake me,

touching love of passion-

words setting me free-

I touch the soul,

of who I am again-

letting it all fall away,

onto lined paper-

with black ink pen in hand.

—

Reflections of our Souls

I see my beauty in you,

reflection of our souls-

intertwining with,

the essence of more-

than flesh and bone,

more than-

what we perceive,

through our human conditioning-

what traps us,

in realities,

where we dare-

not see each other’s beauty.

I see my beauty in you,

like the brilliance of night-

it still shines,

in pitch black-

as I shine in your,

dark places-

and you reach into mine,

with your flickering flame-

that draws passion from me.

I see my beauty in you,

for I am not just me-

I am you,

You are me-

as star dust clings,

to the spaces between galaxies-

we find our,

beauty in living-

compassion streaming,

between beings-

that hold love,

as our forever beauty-

that takes us above,

our human selves.

—

In the Universe of My Soul

in the universe of my soul,

I rise like ethereal-

coming to a space,

of weightless breath,

light of being-

that shines,

through the underneath-

of me.

what pulls me through,

to life-

high above my world’s,

universe gaze-

upon my small human self,

contemplating-

what takes me to,

the space of bliss.

I hold not to,

the world’s movement-

of what makes it all,

concrete-

numb and aching.

find the glow,

of my soul-

embrace and cradle,

me in a soft swaying motion-

finding peace,

in my-

meditative moment.

as we all do,

in the centering-

of our world,

we collide and merge-

into our sacred peace.

—

I suppose we all collect stuff

I suppose we all collect stuff

as most people seem to do

at first it isn’t “stuff”

it’s mementos

gifts

knick knacks

memories that

collect upon themselves

bringing reasons to be around

like the Egyptian goddess statue Bast

the one my wasband

yes…”was”-band

brought to me

from one of his business trips

so much meaning from a gift

spiritual significance

goddess of both sun and moon

independent feline

she sits in the cherry wood hutch

staring at me

what does she and all this stuff

represent to me now

the wedding china

the wine glasses we toasted with

the twenty-something years of

pictures

things upon things

my wedding ring

though if I died now

they would not mean anything

I supposed I did die

in a way

becoming new

and a different me

not attached to all

this stuff

coincidentally when I

honored the full eclipse moon

with my ritual and rising intentions

I always draw a goddess card

yes indeed

I drew the goddess card Bast

—

Rise with Life

rise with life,

that splits the root-

as earth’s womb expands,

life of seed reaching,

through winter’s ground,

seed that pushes through-

as the yellow glow,

of the sun’s coming-

warms their waking.

rising Christ,

rising life-

to what is new-

what is your truth,

what becomes mine-

choosing,

belonging,

believing…

rise with creation,

what vibrates and thrives-

what is alive,

the heron touches earth-

by the willow’s pond,

but breaks through air-

wings touching the,

breath of spring.

I sing.

like a chorus,

of a thousand angels-

like one,

like my soul hold the songs-

of the voices who have sung

before.

I rise to dying,

in my ending-

dissolving,

dissipating-

into the atmosphere,

into the galaxy of life,

birthing into forever.

—

Tears like Stars

(Lunar Eclipse April 4 Full Moon)

tears like stars,

that land upon my-

unbalanced stepping,

for what illuminates-

my undertaking,

of walking as if-

on a tightrope balancing it all,

my coming to my tiptoeing-

across the universe of my completing,

the lunar eclipse full moon,

that shadows the light-

what brings breath,

to my darkness and light-

what is taken from me,

what ends,

and bends,

and breaks through-

what debris is swept away,

from my soul-

as I let go,

calling in the night song-

to hold me as I,

look at me,

look at you,

look at how life-

touches dark and light,

at the same time-

and the full moon holds,

the dark with crying pain-

that splits the sky,

without reason-

because I held it,

for so long-

but what makes me strong,

is to let the tears-

like stars,

evaporate into the night-

swallowed by the darkness,

now capturing-

all that was,

making the promise of new-

to come to me,

yes holding my restless tears in my hands-

to April’s full moon sky.

—

The Exodus of returning to me

treading upon the path,

of my resurrecting-

reviving the inward steps,

that take me to my exodus-

to a path that does not,

meet from line to line-

but intertwines,

with the spiraling of life-

of you, of me,

our exodus-

leaving one journey’s ending,

feet treading beginnings.

what is left behind,

still lingers-

in the breath of my memories,

in what I create to be free-

what I let go of,

and often still hold onto to-

to begin my exodus,

I can not rehearse the steps-

they a are blank,

dark,

crossing a void-

feet treading air,

many have been here before-

what is the sacrificed?

death of life,

dying to oneself-

coming to my living,

the exodus of my returning to me-

to the path that,

belongs to me-

your path

intertwining with mine,

we hold each other-

up at times,

voices that rise-

in the song of our exodus,

we touch the tear stained trails-

of those who have exodus,

on before us-

we who journey through this life,

that belongs to all of us.

—

From the breath of my being.

I want to say,
from the breath-
of my being,
life is life-
empty and full at the same time,
it has shaken me,
to my groundless waking-
seeing with eyes,
that holds my soul’s sky-
with a horizon,
that never ends.

I want to say,
it will be okay-
but life comes,
from behind us-
and surprises us,
sometimes taking –
our breath from us,
but we live our lives anyway.

I want to say,
we if we chose-
can hold this fragile existence,
with open hearts-
and hands that touch,
our cloudless skies-
that cradles the warmth,
of the sun-
even when we feel darkness,
looming over our pain.

I want to say,
we will love again-
and again, and again and again,
despite what others say-
you are beautiful,
passionate,
full of dreams-
that scream,
I am real,
I am loved-
I am held,
in the sacredness of my being.

I want to say,
I am not measured-
by what others say,
or by books of knowledge-
tagged with degrees,
but with the wisdom-
released through the ancient stories,
our stories of being-
of living.

I want to say,
I love who I am today-
it is me,
that I want to be-
my poetry releasing.

—

Waking up to “Today” again

waking up to “today” again,
hear the coffee drippin-
take another sip in-
between the thoughts,
of yesterday and now-
comfort in my prayer shawl,
wrapped around-
my rising body,
clothed in sleepy and breathing-
waiting for it to hit me,
is “today” just another day?
one time I jumped out of bed,
when the Happy song by Pharrell Williams-
rose out of my clock radio,
like an explosion of fun-
I jumped to my feet,
singing and started to dance,
my dog jumped up to glance-
seeing her reaction at me,
as excited and perplexed-
at the same time.
waking up to “today” again,
sometimes I wake up with dread-
please place my pillow over my head,
wanting “today” to disappear,
into a melting stream of orange and red
into black over night,
holding the aching of my breath.
but wait…I’m alive!
how do I find my drive,
my passion-
my looking at life,
as the glass half full-
along with all the other expressions,
that calls to me and say-
it’s more than just,
waking up to “today” again.
so I fold inward,
to reach outward-
I see with what I can hear,
I listen with eyes wide open-
and not with what I see,
but internally-
my sacred way,
calls to me-
reaches in,
and pulls today from me-
new as the rose to bloom,
am empty room-
flooded with light,
of newness-
that rests on my life unfolding.
waking up to “today” again,
is more than a blessing-
it’s a moment,
time splits open my life-
to me,
I can live and breathe-
yes, another “today” again.