Best Communication Poems
When I was little I thought the older a person was, the more brain cells you grew.
Thus, older people are smarter than little people.
That thought was long gone by the time I was four or five.
At eight I was so confused by big hand and little hand on the clock, I thought I would lose my mind.
Big hand to me was little hand, because the big hand they were talking about was the thin longer hand.
Thinner to me meant little, not big.
The thick hand they were calling little hand actually should have been referred to as short hand, but it
Was not. To the big people it was little hand. To me it was big hand because it was the fattest hand.
I did not know how to tell time for about a hundred years, because it did not make sense!
I could not get it, so of course, this was the unit I was elected to teach when I was a student teacher.
And for those of you who like math, do you understand a bit more why the word math strikes terror in my soul?
Big hand. Little hand. Good golly, Miss Molly.
If they had only used short hand, and long hand I would have immediately understood
Because I KNEW words.
Not math, not telling time, not numbers, but I did know words.
Teaching me to tell time would have been insanely simple, if the right words could have been used!
Why did they not understand what I was trying to figure out?
Because they did not LISTEN to me.
I was a child, after all.
A child who knows her words.
Big hand for long hand?
Long hand for big hand?
Everyone was too busy shaking their head and telling me ‘no’ to realize what I was saying.
Listen people, listen, because your children are smarter than you know, and they are
Trying to talk.
A forest - sunlight squeezing through the arms
uplifted by its countless ancient trees.
So fortress-like; her inner royal charms
even the time-worn traveler seldom sees.
What culture lies within? What foreign tongue
is chattered nervously by bird and beast?
What joyful hymns of revelry are sung
which, by my drawing near, in fear are ceased?
My love, those hidden parts I find unique
are those which I would most desire to know.
Dark corners which I least wish you to seek -
the very ones you need the light to show.
Though brighter are the colors from outside,
let's pledge to let no hues within us hide.
There once was, a Miss. Communication
With pleasure she loved to communicate
Writing of love and the wonders of life
Her passion extreme and never sedate
Those afraid, of Miss. Communication
For she expressed herself with all her might
They banded together, to make their point
Miss Took, Mr. E and yes Mr. Right
Sadly the Kingdom, fell into darkness
For not a single note flowed from her throne
The sound of her music, could not be heard
Miss Communication sad and alone
So the town people, gathered together
Including, one who was Miss. Understood
We looked to her, in hopes of an answer
As she strummed on her harp made out of wood
Miss. Communication, rose to the call
For in the end she knew they were all friends
Because with passion, sometimes lines are crossed
Miss. Communication, never pretends
She felt real joy and her pen regained strength
Entering again, into the land of dreams
For within, our miscommunications.
It's true, nothing is ever as it seems!
Events of the last few days have left me feeling sad.
Things said that have left people I care about hurt.
Misunderstood people on different sides that are
really in the end not so different from each other.
Reconciliation comes from listening, in the end
each of us is looking for a place to belong and be
appreciated. Let us choose to act with gentle hearts
and kind words. Being loving is a greater cause than
being right.
When words flow freely
Emotions released in air
Love and peace prevail
Democracy is what we do
and breathe together
to empower ourselves.
Some would say the same of prayer
and holy communion
and secular communication
and healthy relationships.
Democracy seems like an empowering experience
of equality and interdependence
before it became an anti-royalist political philosophy.
Which may serve as a humbling reminder
that great abstract theories
so left-brain universally fascinating
derive from whole mindbody experience
of individual egos,
healthy or other-unwise.
If no ego-experience,
then no ecosystemic consciousness
of democracy
or autocracy
or kleptocracy
or plutocracy
or oligarchy
or capitalocracy
or theocracy
or patriarchy
or even warm accompanying matriarchy.
Multiculturing democracy,
a hybrid of egalitarian aspirations
and interdependent respirations,
requires organized
stable
win/win ego/theo-logical communication,
health wealthy ecological relationships.
Disorganized communication
is an oxymoron,
like enriching divestment
and disturbing attachment
and democratic capitalism
and resilient win/lose compassion.
Democracy is what we win/win breathe
do
develop together
to empower egohealth identities
and wealthy ecosystems.
hanging bridge
pillars at the end
must be strong
Reasons for seasons
Mother nature speaks to us
Mindset renewal
first snowfall
pristine coat of white
footprints to mailbox
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Posted on June 7, 2018
Deep rooted symbol in the Inuit culture, the inukshuk is rudimentary, primitive but effective communication. Through centuries, it is still a practical directional marker used as vital hunting and navigation aids, coordination points, indicators, and message centers.
remote voice
shattering the silence
of hesitation
Published in my photo/haibun anthologies ~PRIMITIVE~ 2019 and ~ANCESTRAL VOICES~ 2019
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Posted on July 29, 2019
Have you ever mourned the blah-ness of your life? Yearning for something new to happen?
Daring to hope for something fresh to be excited about? Wishing your days away, worried that it has not happened? Angry for no reason other than you have forgotten that video-game playing is not satisfying and subliminal clips of video games are keeping you away from doing other things that satisfy and fulfill you?
Ping. Sling. Bam. Beep. Beep. Ping. Sixty five thousand and forty-two points!
Have you ever gotten a wake-up call in the middle of the night to say that something has drastically changed? A baby has been born? A great-great-great-great uncle you have never met has died?
Ping. Sling. Bam. Beep. Beep. Ping. Seventy-five thousand and one points! Still number 2 spot.
Hey! Are you in there? Are you with me? Can you hear me? We never talk any more. It is as if I live alone. Your body is here, but you are living in the virtual world now. It is not making you or me happy. Can we please talk?
Ping. Sling. Bam. Beep. Beep. Ping. New game!
Have you ever been aware that you are not in charge? Have you ever stopped blaming yourself for your brother’s suicide? Have you ever thought of helping someone else, so you can get out of this funk you are in?
Ping. Sling. Bam. Beep. Beep. Ping. Twenty-six thousand and fifty-one points!
Do you know I have left you?
Ping. Sling. Bam. Beep. Beep. Ping
neglecting to pray
feeds spiritual distance
doubt often sets in,
short circuits the dialogue
communication breaks down
written September 11, 2022
Communication.
I want to mean something to somebody.
I want somebody to care.
I want to be able to dance under a disco ball with somebody,
Whilst pretending that nobody else is there.
Love is my purpose and poems are my wares.
All I have is for sale, to anyone who is willing to pretend to care.
Wishing for a change of fortune,
Finding out that nothing ever changes.
Everything remains the same, unfortunately;
Jigsaw puzzle mind…
I must rearrange it.
The order of the things;
The way things must be done.
You have taken my voice and ruined the joy of singing;
Can I please just have a little more fun?
It’s funny really, this reality.
Painful memories, I throw away with my apathy.
Embrace all new experiences.
I am worthless, without your guidance.
I write words down in the hope that somebody will read it
And understand what I mean, when I am sounding so mean.
I am sorry;
I did not mean for it to change your idea of me.
I guess I just say the wrong thing.
Let us build a bridge between us;
Communication is the key.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
I-phones have changed our paradigms
People no longer
Have to talk to each other
Or
Need to form relationships with human beings.
Evolving into an electronic virtual culture,
Suddenly we live in a surreal, imitation world, and we are avatars, not humans.
Nonviolent Communication is a powerful approach with a gentle voice
To communicate with empathy, understanding, a compassionate choice
It is a framework for expressing ourselves honestly
While actively listening to the needs of others openly
It encourages us to recognize our shared humanity
Our innate capacity for compassion even towards insanity
It focuses on understanding feelings, needs, and requests
Rather than blaming or judging the other when they are not at their best
Start by describing how you feel
Letting each other speak will help you heal
Identify your emotions related to what you see and say
Recognize the underlying needs or values driving your energy or the other away
Clearly express what you’d like from others
It doesn't mean that your needs will be met
but it gives them a chance to rise from under cover
When the other speaks, let your listening take hold
Be aware of your reactive mind, that wants to butt in and scold
It is a working progress to communicate this way
Without the violence, anger, and hate that pushes us away
It takes one match to burn a thousand trees
Don't be the one to strike it when you are both down on your knees
Non violent communication is a listening approach
In a mostly verbal world it can be the best coach
So the next time you find yourself in a verbal battle
Try and remember nonviolent communication and be free from a lot of the hassle.
Gypsies
Across a misty channel
Sensor fingers
Stretch
Through foggy, silent waves
Where two souls embrace
In expeditions of speechless discovery
Two minds stand naked,
Face to face,
With wordless words
Each knowing the inner rhyme
Of another soul –
Intimate outside skin and limbs.
Across the barriers of minutes, hours, months
Two silent gypsies wander,
Through heartbeats
They stand, then gaze,
Connected to each other -
Escapees of the spoken word;
Outside the limits of ticking clocks
Two hearts touch
And see the signature of yet another
Self
At the address of the not yet arrived,
Undelivered.
Across the minutes and the moonlight
Pushing past the stealthy march of mysteries
Two fugitives flee holding hands
Leaving footprints
Escaping lines and spaces
Of a calendar;
Two almost strangers stand
At the mystic gates of the unknown -
Today’s unwanted guests
Intruders in tomorrow’s dwelling -
Thieves of time -
Fate’s despoilers.
Across the walls of midnight’s
Crumbling castles
Two wanderers peer into fleeting glimpses
Briefly understanding
The images and ghosts
Taking shape in the mist undefined;
Two stowaways crouch in secret coves,
Hidden from eyes born into mortality
In the warehouse of the borning
To see and not quite
Understand
Young future’s dance.
Across all barriers of time and space
Two gypsies touch outside galaxies to identify
Vague daylight outlines- dim midnight contours -
Embracing imprints,
Acknowledgment of events to come -
Words still unspoken;
Two souls run past the morning
Then return in recognition
For they now stand
Outside of themselves -
Vagabonds of facts
Nomads escaping demands for proof in black and white.
Great minds get the memo.