In recognition of National Poetry Month

Discover Your Inner Poet!

The Academy of American poetry designated April as National Poetry Month in 1966. Research has found that the experience of writing and reading poetry can have a powerful healing effect. Writing and reading about emotional themes can improve our immune system, and reduce stress, anxiety, and depression. Poetry inspires us to dive deep into our emotional depths, allow us to put more easily in words what is happening within. When we sit in a quiet place and pick up a pen, we create space for our feelings to flow through us, connecting with our heartache, grief, gratitude, and joy.

Try connecting with your own poetic voice by exploring how healing the act of writing can be. Drop all judgments or the need for perfection. It doesn’t have to rhyme or sound pretty. Simply use writing as an entry point to explore your emotions. You might start by answering questions such as what scares you, what saddens you, what delights  you, what are your hopes and dreams. Use these questions as prompts and allow whatever words arise to flow through you. (excerpted from The Daily Calm). 

Love Note 4 Your Soul! Spiritual Oneness Used 4 Living
by Dr. Yemaja Jubilee, The SOUL-FULL Poet

You R wonderfully and marvelously created
You R Unique
You R Unapologetic
You R Undeniably
You R Unrelentingly YOU..
So, Stand Tall, Walk barefooted on Mother Earth,
Grounding Your Soul in the Heart of Her Flow…
Pouring Love from the FOUNTAIN of your Heart,
On Self and All of Humanity in every breath you take
Wherever YOU wander
Be, Breathe, and Be…
Bring who you ARE.
I love You.
– Dr. YJ

Dr. Yemaja Jubilee is an award-winning, international speaker, spoken word artist, life coach, author, creative consultant, and songwriter. She is a native of Charlotte County, Saxe, Virginia, and a member of Unity of Richmond, Virginia.

Hope is the thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash that little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chilliest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity
It asked a crumb of me.

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