The Sigh

Sighing and weaseling away the time

like woodpeckers devouring the slime

from bugs running here and there

to feed their young in a hidden lair.

There's not much time left for this old gal

who bonds with nature and makes it her pal.

'tis too much trouble to tell all the facts,

because it's ho-hum and leaves no tracks.

Swish, swirl and dream through the night

of a brighter day and a better sight.

No dream suffices, I soon discover,

as I lay glued with my latest lover.

All fades and dies in the next dire dream

'til I finally realize I'm not what I seem.

This girl was thinking that soon she'll die.

The Son of God can only sigh.

Janet Spiller

May 20^th, 2017

8 minute writing exercise.

Time to sleep

Time to sleep

A watch, a pen and paper here

to write a poem for you my dear.

But I am here with thoughts unclear.

Can we just go to sleep?

The snow came down. The rain came too.

I worried that the plants might die.

But Mother Nature takes care of you.

So we can go to sleep.

I guess my fingers can hold this pen,

but brain and eyes don't want to work.

The silence calls to me again,

“Let go and enjoy sleep!”

Who plays the game with human beings

that write and think as best they can?

I like the quiet of pleasant dreams,

while I disappear in sleep.

Janet Spiller

April 28^th, 2017

8 minute writing exercise

Bereft

It seems a change has now occurred

'cause sound and sight annoy my soul.

To write now seems to be absurd.

I wonder what can be the goal?

I want to go to bed and sleep.

Yet sleep brings dreams that feel like hell.

I say okay to God and yet

He tells me nothing, so I yell

at all the craziness of this.

Has nature shifted into the bliss

of doing nothing and being no where.

Without my body, am I holy air?

I look below. What do I see?

No reason to be here. No me.

My eye sight's going. My ears hate sound.

Help Holy Spirit I need to be found.

I feel bereft.

Janet Spiller

8 minute writing exercise

Good Friday

April 14^th, 2017

Goodbye

It's one of those days when thoughts whip around.

They come and they go and don't make a sound.

Perhaps they are waiting for you and for me

to brighten this planet with thoughts that are free.

I'd like to be driven to mountains up high

where eagles are flying, but never know why

their job is to gather a snail or a goat

to feed there dear youngsters before they emote

a life of there own and be on their way

to worlds far beyond those stars that say

there's nothing on earth to keep you here,

only crisis and worries all bathing in fear.

I hope that you get that all thoughts can't endure

for changes occur like the seasons each year.

First cold, then springy, then here comes the heat.

You swelter and struggle as you try to beat

the sun's heavy blazing through clouds up above.

Until you go swimming with your only true love.

I guess that these thoughts may show you the way.

There's nothing to tell you. There's nothing to say

except

goodbye.

Janet Spiller

8 minute writing exercise

April 7^th, 2017

Trust

Trust

Trusting Him to raise me up.

Jesus is walking everywhere.

Letting go of knowing a thing.

I'm trusting Him without a care.

No ones guilty, not you nor me.

Nothing's going to harm we three.

I love the freedom of loving You,

beyond the judgment of false or true,

of good or bad,

of happy or sad.

No guilt or doubt invades my heart.

My mind is clear and not apart,

from trusting You, my Heavenly home.

Beyond dark clouds of sinful thoughts, lies the Truth of all there is.

My dream of sin and separation fades away like champagne fizz.

Let's go within and see the Light that shines on all today.

Holy Spirit let us know that we only need to pray

and trust You.

Amen.

Janet Spiller

8 minute writing exercise

Meaningless Chatter

Meaningless Chatter

I didn't really listen, 'cause nothing meant a thing.

Yet when I close my eyes, I find that I am smiling.

They're all alive and sprightly – enthusiasm roars.

As each one adds their story of here and distant shores.

I seem to be in dreamland, where nothings left to say.

I guess I'll give no meaning to all that's said today.

Without a certain meaning attached to every word.

The sounds of humans talking does really sound absurd.

If they weren’t speaking English, but words were all in Greek,

would we still laugh and cry, not knowing what they speak.

I listen and I wonder if I'm belonging here

for silence, with its emptiness, shows me I'm everywhere.

Janet Spiller

January 6^th, 2017

8 minute writing class

The Truth

I need to feel the arc of Love

caressing me from God above

that holds the Truth in its embrace

that brings a smile to my somber face.

Sometimes I think I'm bound to be

a leaf that dangles from a tree

holding on to the Source of faith,

yet letting go to the wind's embrace.

I drift to the heavens where I can fly.

Or fall to the earth where I crinkle and die.

Perhaps as earth I'll nurture you

as you plant your flowers in my loving hue.

I'd like to be water, so I can flow

to dreams beyond this; beyond 'I don't know'.

So wet I seem to slosh and sleet

like little toads beneath your feet.

All thoughts of Truth are not from me.

They come from God where I am free

to make up stories like this you see.

So 'bye for now 'cause this can't be

the Truth.

Janet E. Spiller

Writing Class

March 24^th, 2017

 

Nothingness

I didn't want to do it.

Whatever It now was.

I'm tired of thinking up words

or writing down each clause.

Perhaps you'll help me pass

this time for this or that,

for sleeping now in class

would soon emit a slap.

I want to be inspired

to live a life of joy

to love each moment passing

to play with each new toy.

I asked for time to write this,

though goodness know not why.

This earth has gone past pleasure

for poems that make you fly.

Past now and into future

cravings for all that's new,

which ask you for God's Blessings

to bring a different hew

of realms beyond each fancy

for anything in this world.

Beyond all time and space

may Spirit be unfurled

in to nothingness.

Janet Spiller

March 3^rd, 2017

8 minute writing exercise

 

Reflections on a special relationship

You appear at the door.

Your brown eyes meet mine.

I might hug you once more,

but you often decline.

You look me all over -

hair, dress, shoes submit

to the search of my rover,

“Is this good, does that fit?”

You comb through my clothes

to find something bright -

some silky pants – some hose

- a blouse that's just right.

Have you washed yourself thoroughly?

Are all the doors locked?

(He checks the stove worriedly).

Is there something you forgot?

Now triple-check the door

and whose car shall we take?

Have you money galore?

Try to stay wide awake!

I ask,”Where are we going?

What will we do?”

These questions are annoying,

so I stay silent too.

He says, “Why don't you talk to me?

Why don't you ask me questions?

Don't you want me to be free?

Your disinterest brings reservations.”

“Why do you always. . ?

Why don't you ever. . .?

No one behaves like you.

If you were someone else, I would never . .”

I'm uptight.

Nothing's right.

I'm not O.K.

He's not O.K.

Silence, pain, anger, despair.

What really happened?

Does anyone care?

Janet Spiller

September 13^th, 1975

Cher Papa . . . a note with a “pressie”

It's been quite a while

since I wrote a rhyme.

I can only smile

at the topic this time.

These socks are for you.

I give you three.

Some tissue too.

(I got that free!)

Red, black and tan

to meet most needs

of an Englishman

who does good deeds.

Red is for racy,

the times you zoom out

and do something crazy

and give a great shout!

“Here I am world

I'm not dead yet.

My spirit's unfurled

and I'm out to get.”

Tan is so quiet,

a ho-hum shade.

It won't cause a riot,

nor woo a young maid.

Black is quite formal

and denotes an occasion

like going to church,

or fiddling an Asian.

And so these great socks

were meant just for you

to enjoy “on the rocks”

and make dreams come true.

Love you, Janet, 1960

Timeless Dreamer

In consciousness a thought arises.

Do not follow or you're in for surprises.

Thoughts come and go by themselves you see.

To pursue them imprisons both you and me.

Follow not sensations in body or mind,

as there's nothing to do or undo or find.

Simply you're here and discovering peace.

Don't touch the past, then the future will cease.

Nothing to change or create in the now.

Becoming is over, you're breathing somehow.

Aware of your senses and fully awake,

you're unattached for goodness sake.

With nothing to control; awareness expands

beyond any boundaries to effortless lands,

where nothing disturbs you, there is no ban,

for the Presence of “I am” says “Yes” I can

be One with all things, here or afar.

Without a belief, or opinion or star

to guide you through time and space today,

you're One with your Father, there's nothing to say.

Faceless, deathless, ever-fresh -

in silence and stillness together you mesh.

Fully alive being neutral you see

there's nothing to change, so you can just be.

Ever-present, unchanging, uncreated core,

awakening, happening, breath dissolves all.

Limitless, effortless, a formless Being.

A timeless Dreamer in an infinite dream

of Light.

Janet Spiller

January 9^th, 2017

What are you?

It is enough to be your true Self

to smile and to shine as you sit on the shelf.

You don't need a purpose or to speak a word.

The sense of “I am” is real, not absurd.

There's nothing to do or undo or expect.

Don't touch a thought of success or regret.

Whatever comes is observed by you.

No boundaries, no effect, no waiting, no clue.

Your sense of Presence, with lack of ego

is guided by Being, beyond time's show.

Your mind is neutral, there's nothing to get.

No person with stories with a future and yet,

Unchanging, uncreated, with life force expressing,

nothing to hold on to, just Oneness of Being

dissolving plans, attachments and needs.

Neither strength, nor weakness and now you are freed.

All perceiving is perceived by the immeasurable One

coming into full realization that you are God's Son.

Janet Spiller

January 11^th, 2017