#iampoetic

#iampoetic, waxing poetic, jewelry, photography

2015 marks a turning point for Waxing Poetic as the brand embarks on an exciting new chapter, introducing all new contemporary new jewelry designs, representing themes of reflection, reawakening and transformation. Bridging our storied roots into a more contemporary and trend forward direction (and still keepsake) has inspired pieces that illuminate the freedom that change brings. Similar to one’s own personal journey, Waxing Poetic wants to share its own journey with you.

When you create, you are bringing your dreams, vision and a form of purpose to the world around you. We take great pride in our creations, considering not only what meanings they hold to us, but more importantly, the potential meanings they will hold for you.

Our brand has always been about more than just jewelry. And because you’ve inspired us with your stories, emotional connections, and unique and personalized style, we’ve created a new way to celebrate and connect with you… Tag your #WaxingPoetic with #iampoetic and tell us what it means to you, what it symbolizes and stands for. We’ll be sharing many of our favorites from our #iampoetic fans, so join in the celebration and show us your #WaxingPoetic!

We are kicking off #iampoetic with a photo contest! Tag #iampoetic on Instagram and be entered to WIN a $100 Waxing Poetic Gift Certificate to use at www.waxingpoetic.com, and the chance to have your photos regrammed with love and appreciation. We’ll announce a winner November 2nd!

 

Happy Valentine’s Day

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.”

For all the ways we love, and in awe of (and joyful participation in!) the grand Mystery of Love itself: here, one of our favorite poems on one of our most inspirational subjects, by the ever-so-tender Pablo Neruda. Wishing you a Valentine’s day that touches the divine soul of love.

natural beauties charm

Love Sonnet XVII

by Pablo Neruda

I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.

‘Twas The Night Before Christmas

 

‘Twas The Night Before Christmas

By Clement Clarke Moore

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blixen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

Source: Family Friend Poems

Angels and Transcendence are the Theme of the Day

This is a magical poem by D.H. Lawrence… we hope you enjoy, and admit your own angels.

Song of a Man Who Has Come Through

Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me!
A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time.
If only I let it bear me, carry me, if only it carry me!
If only I am sensitive, subtle, oh, delicate, a winged gift!
If only, most lovely of all, I yield myself and am borrowed
By the fine, fine wind that takes its course through the chaos of the world
Like a fine, an exquisite chisel, a wedge-blade inserted;
If only I am keen and hard like the sheer tip of a wedge
Driven by invisible blows,
The rock will split, we shall come at the wonder, we shall find the Hesperides.

Oh, for the wonder that bubbles into my soul,
I would be a good fountain, a good well-head,
Would blur no whisper, spoil no expression.

What is the knocking?
What is the knocking at the door in the night?
It is somebody wants to do us harm.

No, no, it is the three strange angels.
Admit them, admit them

A note from the heart, from Patti our founder.

patti-headshotI love my job. Over the past years, as I’ve had the opportunity to interact with our many customers, retailers, and employees, I’ve come to realize that Waxing Poetic is not merely a company, but, perhaps, a movement; one that embraces every moment of every day. One that asks us to be thankful for all that we have both individually, and with one another. As a business owner I know that customers are brought into a world in which we have created. They bring their life and poetry to us, and then a magical thing happens, a connection. Waxing Poetic provides a customer with a reflection of their life and a world that lives and breathes long after their purchase. Waxing Poetic, made that significant moment possible. We make and sell jewelry, but behind it, there has always been this intangible “thing.” Perhaps it’s this very connection. Our customers bring their stories, filled with love, recognition, and realizations, and we interpret that life into our art, into Waxing Poetic. This is the place of poetry, and it exists in every moment. Our life’s work tries to come closer to the most soulful expressions of who we are. Our work is our life, and our life is a Poetic one. It is in this authenticity that we find our family: a family of seekers, of people who realize they are on an incredible journey, and who want to celebrate it by living a movement that allows some part of each of our souls to soar. We are thankful that you share your own life’s paths (and poetry) with the larger narrative of Waxing Poetic every day. We need each other like we need air, and there is nothing more beautiful, or poetic.

Wishing you true connections and much abundance, Patti