Poetry in Mindfulness: More Poetry, Less News…Breathe!

Hi everyone! I hope you are having a happy beginning of spring. I had a great February with two trips to Vegas bracketing my birthday, both of which were joyous — filled with live music and good food. The first weekend was with my husband, the second with my closest girlfriend.

I’m waiting to hear if my first poetry collection, “Gentle Currents: Poems of Pause & Peace,” will be accepted by the publisher. If so, it will be published in spring 2026. Meanwhile, I am working on my second collection. I’m enrolled in a 25-session poetry credential class with Ron Salisbury, the 82-year-old former poet laureate of San Diego. He’s edited a couple of my poems, and it’s amazing what he’s done, deleting words, moving stanzas, and changing line breaks. I’m learning to edit and revise with more skill. I can’t wait to see how my second poetry book differs from my first book in style.

I’m self-taught, so I was interested in becoming more formally educated. I started writing poetry during the pandemic and have written more than 100 poems since — all of them inspired by my mindfulness practice.

We just celebrated the five-year anniversary of my morning mindfulness class that I began teaching during the lockdown. These are the people that turned me into a poet. They’ve been my audience and my cheering section, and I am grateful for their support. I read my poems and others at the end of each meditation, and post them on my podcast, Balanced Mind With Julie Potiker.

All poetry begins with mindfulness — with being still and observing what’s going on around you. As you focus on what’s going on in the world outside yourself, whether it’s watching or listening to the birds, the rhythm of waves on the beach, or the wind blowing through the trees, your mind becomes quiet. Free from worry about the future or rumination about the past, you can immerse yourself in the present. That’s how I get inspired to write poems like this one:

A Scrub Jay squawks in the courtyard
Dropping down on the red clay roof tiles
with a thwack, then jumping up onto
the branch of the carob tree.
This invites my dogs to bark to attention.

The carob trees captivate my attention
Their red-lacy cone-shaped flowers packed,
swarming, with bees. The sunlight sifting
through the branches allows the bees
to be witnessed in sharp relief

I fall in love with a Bewick’s Wren
Moving with speed on the faded clay tiles
of the courtyard floor, he doesn’t see me,
tucked in my favorite chair under the eaves.
I can’t say he was hopping, he wasn’t walking
But gliding, his plump little body and upturned tail
scooting under our dirty outdoor table

The trees and shrubs here a brilliant green
At least six different shades
And flowers blooming, wild white roses,
red passion flowers tucked into dark green vines

No bare limbs
No trunks that look like bones
No dead leaves

Driving down the driveway
My vision smacked by a burst of color
Lemon yellow, crimson, violet

I realized with a start how grateful I am
to live where the change of seasons
is muted, the landscape’s vibrancy

giving me a boost
unaware how far down I had drifted
Now that I’ve arisen, saying
thank you thank you thank you

Sometimes I write a poem as a mindful self-compassion teaching, like this one:

Clear a path, settle

Allow your thoughts to drift down

Gently sweep them aside
with a soft broom, the kind
that looks handmade from natural grasses

Some of the little notes now in piles
on the perimeter of your awareness
are things to return to later, not now,
but later on, so you keep them safe

Other notes are best to release — the worry,
rumination that woke you at 4am
Go ahead and toss that sticky stack
into the small round fire bowl
smoke swirling as that which
does not serve you dissolves

Settle your mind to clear a path
to your heart where joy and suffering blend

Your heart — which when broken
miraculously goes on beating

Your heart’s safety valves, allowing
your mind to crank the hatches shut,
when too much suffering threatens
to drop you to the inky bottom of the sea

You can open the hatch a peep
Feeling into whether it’s okay right now
To let tears move through you

Too much? Crank it down to steer
your mind to clearer waters

Turning your attention toward joy
Noticing beauty out the window
Letting a song stir your soul
Enjoying the perfect cup of tea
Relishing the sound
of your friend’s voice on the phone

Or my favorite, the sound
of my voice in my own head,
calling myself sweetheart
and letting me know that this too
shall pass, both the good and the bad,
in waves of beginnings and endings.

Wherever your mind takes you as you meditate can become a poem. As you focus on your breath and observe your thoughts, try jotting down the words that float across your consciousness. These are personal to you, and might touch on your childhood and growing up, like this one:

Parents
Brothers
Sisters
Friends
Lovers

Dreams
Plans
Hopes

Uncountable particles of star dust
Swirling the universe

Can we latch on for a bit?
Step onto the bottom rung
to ride the “stairway to heaven”?
Last dance, I always say, when I hear it
the final song played at dances
in the Cleveland of my youth,
a slow tune so kids could
hold each other close

Clip into the lifeline before you step
so you stay tethered to the earth

Close your eyes
Feel the love stories riding the wind
Let go and float

These are a few of the poems from “Gentle Currents: Poems of Pause & Peace.”

As we move from a past we can’t change into a future we can’t foresee, may you find calm, peace, and joy in each moment — moments you can capture and savor in the words of a poem.