Striving to Express Spiritual Perception

Being a poet is about perception. My senses trigger thoughts and feelings. I feel the strongest desire to write when I have just had what I call a spiritual experience. I believe I am a poet because I have these experiences and desire to share them, not because I love to write. Living in this world is what inspires me. Being a poet is about being alive, observing and experiencing the world around me.

Revelation While Mowing the Lawn

I don't believe in God anymore
I know Him.
What a wonderful feeling,
To realize His presence
Within my everyday life.
I do not need to seek Him.
He is already here.
I sense His presence,
Within the light that He shares.

I will spend the rest of my days
Striving to express
What I see and feel
When I am touched by His hand.
In music,
In words,
In a dance.

I don't need faith anymore.
I know He is real.
I have always known,
What I have given religion
A time to kill.

We are one now
Side by side
Glimpse by glimpse
I know now I belong to Him
And His words are truth
Written in my heart
He is my love
My Hope
My dream
My inspiration.

Sharla Leisinger
July 17th 2010

My Dark Side

I have a dark side.
I swear that I do.
Sometimes it tries to take over,
I just bow to it gracefully
And say,

"Hello, how are you?
I know you've been here before
And you will visit again.
I know you so well.
I call you my friend.

You can hang around.
I know you will,
Only around the edges
Just enough to keep things real."

Do Not Look Back!

Today I was praying and asking for supernatural intervention in my life. I guess I have been feeling the darkness closing in a bit since I lost Tucker. I am doing much better counteracting the darkness with light, because I did rescue two beautiful creatures from the animal shelter to help fill the void that Tucker left. This act did help "grey" things up a bit. Anyway, as I was praying, I got a very clear mantra "Don't look Back". I intuitively felt God's spirit saying, "If I part the waters, you must pass through and Do not look back". I realized that there have been many times in my life when I received a miracle, but it slipped away because I would not let go of the past. So this may take some practice, but I am really excited to see what happens.

My Cat Died

I would like to say that I cried,
But it rymes to well with died,
And it really does not express
How I really feel.
Isn't that the reason I am here?
Writing this in the first place?

I know he is fine
And so am I.
To truly live,
Everything must die.
It is Okay.
He came and he went,
And he shared and he helped
Me get through a tough time.
(I will have to finish later
not because I am sad, but
because the phone won't stop ringing)

The Lady Bug and Green Tea

I lay on my side in the daybed, drinking a cup of green tea, with my grandmothers quilt covering me and a twenty pound, longhair, grey tabby laying at my feet. His name was Lucky and he was my protector. I was finally finished with the radiation treatments and it was time to reflect, on life I suppose. I sat the cup of tea down on the table next to the bed and a ladybug found her way to its edge. I began watching her make her way around the edge of my tea cup. She just kept going around and around. I felt sympathy for her because I have been there myself. Not on the edge of a tea cup, but going around in circles just the same. She could not see very far and I am sure the cup seemed huge and there was no end to it. There were no corners to turn, no left, no right, no up or down. I lay there, just watching her, wondering how many times she would keep traveling around the edge. Then in one moment she flew away, off to another exploration I suppose. I was so excited for her and for me, because I knew that I was spreading my wings and flying off to begin a new exploration also. Thank you little ladybug where ever you are for inspiring me to let go of my endless journey and fly away to a new land.

Finding My Own Voice

Funny title. Do I have my own voice? If I don't, then whose voice do I have, or do I have a voice at all? Scary thought. Maybe that is why I stopped writing. I lost my voice. What I do have is a steady droning deep down in the pit of my stomach that just won't go away. A interesting point is that when I stopped writing, I stopped talking. I have never been much of a talker. My brain just doesn't work that way. My thoughts get all tied up with my tongue. I was born the youngest of a family of five children and I was the only girl. While growing up, no one around me thought I had anyhing interesting to say, so I didn't talk much. I did sit around and daydream quite a bit. My Mother was grateful because I was so quiet. I think all of those hours of daydreaming have finally caught up with me. I have got to do something with all of these dreams in my head. My problem is that I don't know where to begin and shouldn't I be doing something more useful like working a third job, tending a garden or taking in stray animals. I have got to work this out. I hope I can eventually get my voice back or atleast be able to write it, read it and recognize it as my own.

A Different Perspective

Some days I drive madly down the winding country road from my house to town. In the early morning there are sleepy birds who tend to fly low and when I am frantic, I almost hit a few, especially if I am driving fast. Lately I have been soaking in the spring and taking my time. Yesterday I was driving down a country road by the lake on my way to a painting job and I looked out my side window. There was a small bird gliding along side of my truck. We were going the same speed and then it flew gracefully across the front of my truck and crossed to the other side. I watched its journey from beginning to end and there was no near death experience, only graceful sychronicity with a fellow creature. I thought to myself, wow, what a different perspective. If I get in to much of a hurry, look at what I miss, the best part of the journey.