A Psalm for The Day

A Psalm for The Day

By Jane Tawel

December 9, 2019

 

God of mercy,

God of grace,

Help me God to seek Your Face.

 

God of judgement,

God of power,

Grant me hope in this dark hour.

 

God of Moses,

God of Christ,

Give us all

We need for Life.

 

Fill me, as I empty out,

All my pride, and all my doubt.

Empty me to do Thy Will,

Listening for Your Voice, so still.

 

God of Light,

And God of Love,

Thy Kingdom here as it is above.

God of Love,

And God of Light,

To be My God, I, You, invite.

Forgive me now,

And teach me how,

To walk, and do,

In worship of You.

Hebrew-Names22

Puppets Need Laughter to Be Real Humans

 

 

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“Disneyland, Pinochio” by gigi4791 is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

 

 

Puppets Need Laughter to Be Real Humans

By Jane Tawel

November 14, 2019

 

Every once in a while I simply can’t wait around for humor to find me.  I have to manufacture some myself.  Otherwise it is all just too much, isn’t it?  Below is my latest poetic ditty in an attempt to tickle my own funny bone.

 

I wrote this little silly poem on my half hour lunch break yesterday at my latest temporary gig in an office.  I have developed a new empathy for people who spend their lives at mind-numbingly boring, dull, unfulfilling jobs because they like to eat, have a roof, and clothe their children, all by slaving for one measly, inadequate paycheck at a time.  Yesterday, the cat (boss) was away, and the “mice” began to play a bit, while still accomplishing the work they do day after day after day after day, work that has no personal fulfillment for themselves, only for other people.  A small group of those who sit in the completely silent large, sterile room, like computer chained prisoners, began to come alive. I sat at my separate temp-worker desk (temp workers are both temporary saviors and pariahs),  and I listened in wonderment to people I thought I understood after two weeks on the job. I was secretly and joyfully astounded, and felt much like Geppetto must have felt when wooden puppets became a real boys and girls. The otherwise surly or silent began to share little jokes and stories with each other. They laughed, they teased, and the otherwise meaningless, joyless, slavish work suddenly had a new meaning, because for a small moment, they had other real, live happy, caring people who were working alongside them.

 

I encourage you to find something today, if you can, that tickles you to smile, giggle and when possible laugh loud and long. If you are a little worker-bee today, find a fellow worker-bee, and share a moment – show them a picture of your silly kid, memorize a new joke, laugh at what you brought for your lunch today.  If you are a person with power, like a CEO, or manager, or teacher, or parent, I know you fear the happiness and silliness and joy of those you oversee. I know you think it will make them work less, focus less, accomplish less. All I can tell you, is, it won’t, but to believe that, you may need to learn how to do the most freeing thing of all. You may need to learn to laugh, and if you can laugh at yourself, then others will not be so tempted to laugh at you behind your back.  You may find you are laughing and enjoying your day along with all the rest of us.

 

Ode to Joy, Not by Beethoven

By Jane Tawel

A recent need to be silly,

Due to having the world-weary willies,

About what I fear

In the world far and near,

Made me get out my pen and smirk, “Really?

Oh, you silly, Jane,

You are sometimes so vain,

And you really should not gild your lily!”

But due to my sense of great sadness,

Which often leads daily to madness,

I relate, some, to you,

And the trials you go through,

As we struggle through goodness and badness.

 

So, let’s giggle and wiggle our shoe-clad, sore toes-es,

Let’s tickle our fancies and tickle our noses,

Let’s pull each one’s legs,

And eat green ham and eggs,

And when you feel low,

Well, Hey, Pal, don’t cha’ know,

We are in this together.

So, let’s fight and let’s weather

The storms of this life,

The fears, and the strife,

And down we will knuckle,

Ourselves – to just chuckle.

Let’s laugh, now and then,

And then even when,

Life seems ever so dreary,

We will promise that merely,

Not a day will go by,

When we at least do not try,

To fight all this crappiness,

With a wee bit of happiness.

 

Oh, sing, Ode to Joy!

Share a joke, make a toy,

Of the chains that enslave,

And you’ll soon feel quite brave.

 

For Goodness is not just in suffering,

But sometimes is found in the muffling,

Of the anger and sorrow,

And fears for tomorrow,

By stifling it all with hard chuckling.

Get back up, and just do it,

With panache or wry wit,

With a giggle or joke,

And throw off the hard yoke.

Oh, yes, laugh! Ode to Play!

And then, have a truly “Good” day.

Jesus, The Good Person– a Poem

Jesus, The Good Person

By Jane Tawel

November 7, 2019

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Let them eat cake,

Donuts or glazed,

Free and cheap

And the world’s in a haze

Of gluttonous pride;

Yet no earthly free ride,

As we take the cheap bread,

Re-crucify sacred head.

 

Oh, mañana,

Hosanna!

We’ll be judged by what manna

We give or receive

And what pride that we leave

Behind the closed door,

Of Love, evermore.

 

And while we cling tightly

To the stuff we have bought,

We’ve lost sacred power

To cheap prayers and rank thoughts.

Oh, God, help me see

What The Christ claimed to be.

Not some hook-up, or quick fix,

Not a shaman with cute tricks,

But a Man who lived justly,

And put others first,

A god-man who suffered

To quench others’ thirsts.

 

And I’m called to be like him,

And to take my own cross,

To walk the whole distance,

And count not the loss,

Of things that are temporal

And things that are lies,

To seek only the True Path,

And all evil, despise.

 

Jesus was a Good Person,

And He called-out the rest,

Of the fakers, world-shakers, the fat priests–all the “best”–

That the world has to offer to all we little folk,

And He calls to us ‘nobodies’, “Follow me, and Get Woke!”

 

The Way of the Christ is really quite hard,

And we can’t walk His walk, without getting quite scarred.

And some days to be sure it is really a bore,

But it’s truly the best way, to reach Heaven’s shore.

 

Yes, He was a Good Person, some say, even like  God,

And He loved us by not sparing Heaven’s firm rod.

We were once to be like that and rule Earth with great care,

Jesus waits in His Kingdom, to welcome us there.

 

“And where is this Kingdom?” one asks with great mirth.

Why, He told us, “It is for you to make it real here on earth”.

Exclamatory Lives – an ode to living well

By Jane Tawel

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(Dick and Rick Hoyt Training for a Marathon)

 

Exclamatory Lives

By Jane Tawel

November 2, 2019

*

 

Take time,

Give space.

Hit the brakes,

Save Face.

Make Rhymes,

Reason, Wake.

Dreams, Climb,

Seek grace.

*

Beat the blues,

Tie up loose ends.

Hold your foes,

As close as friends.

Release worries,

Secure peace.

Subtracting anger,

Will joy, Increase.

*

 

Fix meals,

Break bread.

Find humor,

Lose your head.

Do Good,

Be Free,

All are commandments

For both you and me.

*

Exclamatory lives,

Are Actions and Verbs.

We are meant to go lightly,

Yet, with virtue and nerve.

So Be! And Do!

Embrace all that you,

Are capable of,

And in this way, you Love.

Beating Heart — a poem

This is a tiny poem I wrote a while ago for a delightful blog I follow called The Alchemist’s Studio. It was for the “Name That Vase” event.  Check out the Alchemist’s beautiful exquisite raku pottery and also the delightful and interesting posts and stories  at:   https://rakupottery.ca/

 

Beating Heart

By Jane Tawel

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Is the blood that beats inside us all,

A result of Heaven, or result of The Fall?

Does my blood run red, or does it run blue?

And what of the blood that throbs within you?

If I could catch a beating heart,

Then that might be at least a good start,

To understand that what pulses in me,

Is perhaps the world’s greatest mystery.

 

Here – A Poem

Here

A Poem By Jane Tawel

October, 2019

 

Here, Autumn slips in slowly,

Like a mother, she checks her sleeping child;

Tiptoeing into our rooms

Letting lengthening shadows obscure her smile.

 

Here, Summer runs off swiftly,

Like a child late for a play-date;

She laughs away the poignant dusk,

As she fades from our view.

 

Here, the Spring is remembered sweetly,

And Time is an old woman rocking in her creaky chair.

And no more come the Seasons, but one.

It is always hoarding Winter now,

Here.

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It’s All a Game Over Here

It’s All a Game Over Here

A Poem of Polarization

By Jane Tawel

October 2019

For the Hopeful and Hopeless both here and there.

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“Flat Flags” by Paulo Capdeville licensed under CC by NC-ND-4.0

 

 

 

It’s all a game about winning,

Over here on this side of the pond.

And I wonder if you,

On that side of the blue,

(Whether you call it “mundo” or “monde”),

Have been led to believe

It’s alright to deceive,

Or if you, like I do, feel quite conned?

 

We’ve decided that athletes are all gods.

We treat senators like they are kings.

The fools entertain us,

While corporate crooks rein us.

Heaven’s reign’s in the void,

 With Earth’s greed on steroids;

And the preachers’ idolatry pains us.

 

I wonder if there you feel hopeless;

As I sometimes do under my flag?

Or do you feel the same onus,

To try not to vomit or gag?

 

If we’re going to make this world different,

To not play the game,

To swallow our pride,

to not aim for fame;

then it’s time to decide.

We can’t keep on ignoring life’s current,

Will we bet on the horses

Who keep Caesar’s stable?

Or invite all the needy

To dine at our tables?

 

I wonder if you too, can’t pledge to your flag,

When the world just keeps filling with more body bags?

I wonder if you’re tired of games that destroy,

The planet for Future’s small girls, beasts, and boys?

I wonder if over there, over the sea,

If you too would rather be choosing, with me,

Some new games, and new roles, and new consequences,

And a way to build more homes, not more cement fences.

 

Over here I want new ways of seeing each other,

Not on teams, but as families, like sisters and brothers.

Over here, it’s all rah-rah, and yay-yay for teams,

But I’m hoping that we who still dream greater dreams,

Won’t care about winning or losing and such,

Because in the end, games won’t matter that much.

 

When The Augurs regain

What the childish teams drained,

And the new world has gained, what’s now lost;

All those who bought and sold.

will lose all, to those bold

Enough to live for only soul-stuff.

 

And when those never picked

by the tricksters and slick,

those who captained the teams in first-class;

then the first shall be last

and all teams will have passed,

and the last, to the top will be flipped.

.

When Three only remain,

With Love ruling again,

With no flags left to fly

Then I hope you and I

Will no longer, ask, “Why?”

But instead hand in hand,

We will make a new land,

where the meek all are owners.

No more hungry. No loners.

We will all share our dreams

Without hate or extremes.

For those old teams, you ask?

  It’s Game Over.