Cindi Silva Poetry

poetry, haiku, prose, writing

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Waxing Crescent Moon|

The waxing crescent moon

showing its shadowed outline

as the sunset appeared

the light blue mixed with a touch of royal blue

starts it’s journey fading to black

slowly; labored

one step at a time

Sky turns a medium shade of blue

the moon begins to shine brightly

a pirate’s smile of a moon

right upturned

above the bay


orange; pink; purple hues

intensify in color

Our journey back home begins

What started out as a casual stroll

becomes a brisk winter’s walk back home

Follow the breath becomes visible

instead of a meditative practice

my breath tries to push itself

outwardly to touch my nose

a self-imposed heater of sorts

thawing out the frost turned icicles

my mind’s eye has placed on my face

I hear the train off in the distance

Only heard on cold clear winter nights like this

I move as quickly as I can towards

the steaming hot cup of green tea

I know will be waiting for me

back home

Cindi Silva –  1/13/13

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Frank Bette| Center for the Arts|

When I entered the room

I saw Peter sitting in the corner of the room

His smile radiant; he was effervescent

To a degree his enthusiasm was contagious

As many people who have endured great suffering

and lost many of life’s perks

He had risen above it all

His poetry created wonderful imagery

it was filed with hidden mindfulness

and wisdom

Even before we said hello I felt his energy

illluminating the room

Their was a cold chill in the room

Was the ghost of Frank Bette bringing the chill

Was Bette in his workshop with us lisltening, and constructively

criticizing our writing assignments

From the first time we said hello

I felt like we were long lost friends

Some connections are like that

Two kindred spirits

Later he showed us his mushroom tattoo

he received in the 1950’s long before I was born

I asked him the meaning of his tattoo

He told me a girl he loved at the time

also had a matching tattoo and he sweetly

laughed in remembrance of their once special bond

I mentioned that I thought it was funny

when people got their true love’s name

tattooed; especially when the relationship didn’t

work out; I asked him if they were still together

He laughed; I asked him if he knew if she still

had the tattoo; he laughed again

I had my first poetry workshop

a ten minute writing assignment

under pressure

I was in the company of a good friend who came with me

and a room full of poetic souls who love

their art

I enjoyed the evening very much

Especially the smiling man who had learned

to rise above all the human suffering

carrying around his oxygen tank as a reminder

that as long as you’re breathing that’s all

that really matters

and  used it as a beacon to differentiate between what really

matters in life; and the futility of reacting to having your

buttons pushed; and I noticed he seemed to live his life in abundant joy

Cindi Silva


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Sometmes things just don’t feel right

As if the universe is giving you pieces of a puzzle

One at a time; often scattered

Over here, over there, over time

Some pieces you may stop to pick up

and carefully tuck in an imaginary box

in the attic of your mind

Some pieces you may ignore altogether

yet the image is imprinted in your mind’s eye

You may or may not collect all the pieces to life’s puzzle

It may or may not matter if the pieces all fit

What does matter is that when you feel a chill; or

recognize a feeling of deja vu;  for what it is

your intuition talking to you

Be polite and listen

Cindi Silva



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green tea|

I imagined I was a buddhist nun

while I held my cup of green tea

and with each sip I smiled

thought things that made me feel good

starting with I am happy today

my life is filled with joy and beauty

I recognized I was filling my cells with important


I thanked the miracle that is my life

I went back to the tea and thanked the land

for which the leaves were nurtured and grown

thanked the many people who helped through the  process of harvesting

packaging and shipping

the box of green tea to my local store

thanked my body for allowing me the walk to the store

on a cold winter’s day

and the fact that when I  arrived home from the store

I had a warm yet humble home to return to

You can get so many gifts from drinking a cup of green tea

Cindi Silva, 1/10/13

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best mindfulness poems| it’s just buddhism all over again|

It’s Just Buddhism All Over Again

There’s no time like the present
I was a child when I first heard this

Like the song says
I was so much older then/I’m younger than that now

I remember thinking
it meant I should do whatever it is first
to get it over with
so I could get to the business of having fun
all that really mattered to me
laughing, playing, reading, learning

Now the present time is where I want to be
All the time

the golden age
I was a child when I first heard this

Pretty sure I read it in a textbook in elementary
Or junior high – synonym for middle school
I thought it had something to do with
The talkies or the movie industry; or
maybe the Wright brothers and their marvelous flying machines

Now the golden age is something I would like to reach enlightenment

I gave my mom a plaque about 30 years ago
When she was my age now
with a picture of a willow
It hung in her hallway until she died
It said
I was an oak, now I’m a willow, I can bend

If I had a plaque with the same picture of a willow it would say
It’s just Buddhism All Over Again

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best mindfulness poetry|

No time for regret

No time for sadness

For me woulda, coulda, shoulda

no longer exist

let joy in

and fill your life too





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