Saturday, April 03, 2010

Lotuspapillon (aka) Ieisha McIntyre Opening for Adam Falkner!

Opening for Adam Falkner @ UWTacoma

Wednesday March 31st  was one of the most heartwarming and life affirming experiences I have had in a very long time.  Adam Falkner is not only an amazingly enlightened and talented poet.  He is also a wonderfully inspired and inspiring educator!  He has a soulful singing voice and I hope one day soon he will put a few poems into song. If you weren’t at Wednesday night’s performance and you haven’t had a chance to hear his work, click his name and check him out!
I’ve posted a video with some of my work from the performance as well.  Feel free to take a look. Subscribe, tweet, comment!  Blessings all! I hope to do more readings in the future.  I’ll keep you informed!





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Fear of Flying #3/30 NaPoWriMo

Fear of flying 
by Ieisha McIntyre

I climbed to the highest mountain
and stretched out my arms as wings.
Bade the lord to lift me up by the power of his hand.  And with an effortless wave of his finger my feet left the cliffside and I was buoyant.
I drifted as the lightest of flying creatures.
 As the lightest of creatures.

All of this,
I did, inspired by my love for you.
The power of our union made me believe in unassisted human flight.  Lips were not lips,  fingers were not fingers, skin was not a barrier but a joining place. A place of surrender-co-mingle.
 All of my family voiced caution but I was unafraid
and had full faith in the power of God’s hand in our union.

I did not know that faith is made victim,
 God is made bystander,
And free will makes victims of us all.
The terror of love is in the losing,
in the ever present feeling of falling
and failing.
 
Love requires the courage of a daredevil to rest safely in the breast of a saint.
The voice of love works within our fragile minds.
We are made disciples.  
Convinced of our immortality,
we fly,
and give no consideration to gravity.
We lose all doubt of love’s existence.

In the making of love
it is made real as blush red,
hot sweaty and sweet tender.
What need had we of parachutes?
Lovers defy gravity and history every day.

No one hears the tales of the fallen,
the ones who fly too high, or reach too far.
Their stories are consumed by the heat of the sun.
All trace of them left as ashes on the wind.
All memory, left to drift with the gentlest of breezes.

The fear of flying left unexplained.        

All Rights Reserved (c) 2010




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Friday, April 02, 2010

NaPoWriMo 30/30: #2/30

Here is my second poem in this great writing adventure that it is called NaPoWriMo. It is based on the #2 writing prompt on ReadWritePoem take time to check them out.  Many of you I do not know. And it fills my heart with joy that you are reading my work. I'd like to take this moment to invite you to say hello.  Ask me questions, and if you have advice I may not take it but I'm willing to listen. I hope you like it! Blessings.


NaPoWriMo #2: RWP Writing prompt for 30/30

Regular White Paper
by Ieisha McIntyre

Regular white paper says nothing on its own--
on its own it is only fiber and glue.

There are no contracts, promises, messages or vows without ink.

Without the rhythmic wave of process--
                                    the pen in hand
                                    and the cursive script,
                                    the paper would have nothing to say.

All Rights Reserved (c) 2010



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Cat Bird NaPoWriMo #1

Having accepted the challenge of NaPoWriMo, I present to you my first poem.


Cat Bird
by Ieisha McIntyre


Cheshire cat grin behind steel teeth,
 and she is all that he can think about.
She is all curves and muscle.
Too many years behind her to be a girl
and to many days of sin to be spinster,
he is lost to her sex and sensual.

Smiling at her as a boy
who believes he’s the first to see a stone skip across water,
he is her captive
and doesn’t even know it.
All he knows is the grin and
the slow hard feeling in his crotch.

All Rights Reserved (c) 2010


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Monday, March 29, 2010

Rain

Rain
By Ieisha McIntyre


Rain--
the soft sound of my lover’s voice.
It falls gently to my skin,
seeps into my body and drums against my beating heart--
his intentions.
All love and never harm, never malice,
nor contempt--
only nurture and breath.

Like rain, my love clears the dust,
and shoos away the drought of neglect.
He is my fresh homecoming.
My ambassador of spring.
With him, the soil of my spirit is made ready,
and receives without complaint or resistance.

Darling,
buds peak forth and test the light.
This sun, he brings after the tempest.
This scorch-less sun -- food. Fresh, green leaves stretch to blue-kissed light.
Fare well in these gentle winds of new cast love -- these are surely the most sweet of times.

Trust,
that when disturbance enters this garden,
and the light has grown stark-jaundice,
the rain is never far.
Grey flannel clouds will gather.
Pull close about and shelter.
Bring the welcome tender strum of his rain.

All Rights Reserved (c) 2010


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