Welcome to the Collection The 'Words to Sit With' Collection is a home for free-to-share contemporary mindfulness poetry and stories.  | Navigate The poems are all shown below, beginning with the most recent. If you are looking for a particular poem you can go straight to your poem of choice by clicking on the title in the 'Full List' drop-down menu above. Search If you are looking for poems or stories on a particular theme, try typing key words in the search box in the top right-hand corner. Contribute If you would like to see your original poems or stories featured on the site, then feel free to send them in. |  |
The Collection
I Sit and I Feel it
I sit and I feel it
I sit some more whilst it swells
It’s in my heart that’s where it dwells
My gut is bursting full of it
All the while I sit and sit
I sit and I feel it
It wants to rise up in my chest
I wish It would sit down to rest
Now rising up , a tidal wave
My eyes are leaking ‘n’ can’t behave
All the while I sit and sit
I sit and I feel it
I hear my mind say ‘run away’
‘Make it better just go and play’
My thoughts are strong but I remain
To quash this thing would be in vain
All the while I sit and sit
I sit and I feel it
Bit by bit it shrinks back down
Flowing away from my head and crown
It’s fading now I feel it slow
This thing called sadness decides to go
All the while I sit and sit
I sit and I feel it
It ebbs away becoming distant
In its wake there no resistance
I’m stronger now I feel blessed
To sit and feel is always best
And all the while I sit and sit By Angela Tags: Letting be, Tolerance, Equanimity, Impermanence |
Moments of Freedom
And I stop
for a second,
like that moment when I awake
before my mind starts working.
And I stop.
I see
I hear
I smell
I touch
I feel
I am.
And it is just as it is
for a second,
and then
well then I become my thoughts
until I remember again
to stop.
Maybe the sound of the woodpecker,
maybe to sight of the majestic Stag,
maybe the smell of the cold, damp dew,
maybe the feel of the wind on my face,
reminds me to stop.
Reminds me to return to that place,
that place of stillness,
where darkness doesn't exist,
only light.
Where freedom is a possibility
for a split second,
just being,
just being,
just being free,
just being me. By Joanna Kay Tags: Awareness, senses, pause |
Being
I see you, it makes me smile
It's a relief, as I know you have been hiding
Welcome, you are as you are
I feel you
Your breath, your fear, your hopes
Settle, have faith in this moment
Trust it will be as it should be
I accept you, and all is well By Nicki Tags: Acceptance, connection, non-judgmental |
Moment by Moment
What to do when time is long? Time can go faster with a cheerful song. Smiles help make the time feel lighter. Lifting spirits to make the day brighter. Pay attention to sensation, thought, sight, and sound. Try to let boredom pass and enjoy what’s around. Tags: Time, joy |
What the Bonsai Tree Sees
Sitting on the sill Beside the staircase. Glimpsing moments as we scurry by. What does the Bonsai tree see? Sometimes one who is hurried A flash of energy, No time to stop. Sometimes one so serious Preoccupied, Occupied, And post-occupied. An expert in taking stock. And in those magical moments However few and far between Our little Bonsai tree sees The gaze of attentive eyes. And when the Bonsai sees we are Attuning while pruning The Bonsai feels truly alive. By Peter Morgan Tags: Bonsai, decentering, stepping back, attunement |
Home
I have come home From self-imposed, long exile To this imperfect body. Comfortable in my discomfort. Welcomed, like the Prodigal Son, returning. No blame. No guilt. No recrimination. Only love. So simple. Loneliness healed. Now everyone is welcome To my home. By Gary Hennessey Tags: Compassion, acceptance, returning |
Quietly Sometimes
The sun was really warm for a brief moment, and in that brief moment, everything was exposed. Half life, half death. A limbo of grey and green, as nature showed its true colours and life glimpsed on triumphant emerald, through the grief of grey. Ploughing the proof that life goes on. Quietly, sometimes. By Dorothy Sheppherd Tags: Wisdom, life, nature |
This Matters
When sister says to sister, I see you There is space for you here You too deserve love You too deserve peace You too are love You too are peace By Maria Fortino Tags: Compassion, metta, befriending |
Sensitivity
Walk, Look, and Listen; Feel, Taste and Smell Our senses are vital to living, so pay attention well. Emotions are essential to guide us and to learn Build wisdom, conscience, insight, compassion, and concern We are not robotic, our potential we’ve yet to unlock. Human goodness in our being needs to grow, not stop. By Trudy Davies Tags: Senses, growth, wisdom |
Cursing the Weeds
As I sit Looking out over the garden My eyes are drawn to the uncut grass And that patch that grows a different shade, To the shed door that doesn't quite close And the fence panel resting out of place. I see uneven flagstones And that leaky gutter. So many things to do, I mutter. And so I feel pulled, dragged in to action. Called to account for so much unfinished business. I hold my nerve, choosing to sit. Letting eyes close and feeling the breath. My mind regurgitates the images, Reminding me of jobs not done. My body feels the tension, a reflection of the gap, The gaping chasm between how things are and how I would like them to be. I open my eyes and look out over the garden. I ask myself what can I bring to this? After a moment flailing in the wind... Perhaps a spark of curiosity. I wonder what it would be like to step out and feel the dew on the grass. Whether that patch feels any different It is such a strong colour! I remember the smell of cut grass. I notice the plant beneath the leaky gutter, drip fed, and flourishing. I enjoy the simplicity of the brick Propping the shed door closed. I feel a longing to go outside and be in the garden. I hold my nerve, choosing to sit. Letting eyes close and feeling the breath. My mind wanders out, longing to feel The cool, crisp blades Of the dew-covered grass. I feel the energy, the prickling Emergence of interest. The distance between where I am and where I would like to be. I open my eyes, look out over the garden, and smile. By Peter Morgan Tags: The Gap, curiosity, choice |
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