Gift certificates for a poem

Write Me a Poem gift certificates are great for lovers of poetry, for friends or family with a special creative or artsy streak, for people who are hard to find a gift for – or just for that last minute gift or stocking stuffer.

GIFT CERTIFICATE: One “Poetry on Demand” customized poem from Write Me a Poem! by Majo John Madden, Ph.D.



Here’s how it works – or actually two ways it can work:

  1. You buy the poem, tell me the topic (“my sister Louise”, “my brother’s dog woofy” – whoever) and a couple words, sentences or paragraphs about that person, dog (whatever, but I do specialize in dog poems).  I write the poem and send it to you through some medium – or meet up with you and give you a hard copy (or mail it, if time is on your side).
  2. You send/give the gift certificate to the receiver. They get together with me – in person, by Skype or email, whatever – and tell me what they would like the poem to be about, and I write it for them.  Then I read it to them and follow up by emailing it to them.

The cost is whatever amount over $10 feels right to you – something that reflects the value of the poem for you.  Keep in mind that these poems regularly make people cry and can significantly shift how they think about something in their lives – or how they think/feel about themselves!  So far this holiday season, the rate people have paid me has ranged from $10 to $60 (for his troubled grandniece – he just knew it was going to be helpful to her).

Call or text (828-582-9822) or email (, Facebook (heymajo) me – or catch me at church or something – if you are interested or have questions.

Opening the heart (poetry on demand for VR, 11/21/18)

When to come and when to go
Who to let in when they knock on the door
These questions can perplex a woman
Answer them wrong and you can get hurt
And hurts to the heart can take a long time to heal
Can make it hard to open up again
So how to reduce the chance of getting hurt
While keeping an open heart?
You need to know who is making the choice
The head or the heart
The head is notoriously unreliable
It fancies itself completely accurate
It prances around the stage like a peacock|
But it’s all empty analysis
And terribly fallible with affairs of the heart
Which it understands not at all
The heart is not about feelings –
The emotions reside in the gut
The one feeling the heart deals in is love
It trades on love
The most love for everyone concerned
In all cases
The spiritual heart wants love
Everywhere and always
And wants everybody to be safe
No injuries, no trauma
The spiritual heart knows what it’s doing
Has an uncanny sense of right and wrong
Not bad and good
But what’s right and wrong for you
So how do you tune into this spiritual heart
Not the analytical mind or the mindless emotions?
Love, love
Love is the answer
You must practice love
Not wait around to fall in love
It’s not about falling at all
It’s a practice of love
You must start by loving yourself
Spend five minutes a day for starters
Thinking loving thoughts about yourself
Wrap yourself in white light of protection
Write down five things that you like about yourself
Call a friend who likes you and ask them to tell you why
Take a bubble bath
And when the analytical mind comes in
And tries to tell you what’s good and bad
Tell it to take a hike
Or when your emotional belly
Says “I’m scared”
Or “I’ll never love again”
Just love her
She needs love more than anybody

You have a bright future, VR
This is not rocket science
You can learn it
Though it will take your whole life
To master it
Start now

How can I write of transformation?


Back in the Spring, Lynn Rosser asked me to write a poem for the Singers spring concert. I was honored – and asked her about the theme. She told me that it was, “Transformation – Awakening to the New Consciousness for Our Time”. I said, “Cool” – then went away and realized that I didn’t have anything to say about transformation, or about consciousness, old or new. So I got back to Lynn and said that, for me, the theme for the concert and the song list were just a little too relentlessly upbeat – and that I would need to contribute something that would be more “grounding”. Lynn had the intuitive wisdom to not immediately warm to this idea: “Uh, OK.” Then I went home and proceeded to completely act out: I wrote the darkest poem I could possibly write – and had a total blast doing so. Needless to say, you did not hear that poem at the concert. I think Lynn might still find it horrifying, but I still kinda like it. It’s called “How Can I Write of Transformation?”


How can I write of transformation
When I am so angry?
How can I speak of
My better angels
When today the demons run the show?

By beating me into submission
By a thousand humiliations
Has lowered the bar for me
So many times
And still I can’t help but to
Keep going under

How can I speak of expansion,
Of transcendence
When I am so contracted,
So depressed?

I want to expand within, not without
To go to the dark heart
Of that black hole within
Which is not just mine
But a human thing

How can I speak of my higher self
When I have just screwed up again
And hurt you as I did?
And then you told me how that still somehow worked for you
The sweet thing that for you happened next

May I screw up in all the just-right ways
If I must be an ass
Make me Life’s holy ass
Let others ride on my mistakes
To where they need to go

Lord, help us –
Make me an instrument
Make me an instrument of your divine chaos
Let me surrender any claim
To be evolved, to be further down the path

Make me Life’s great
Role model from hell
If others may not want to be like me,
Then let my screwed-up example
Make them want to be
More and more like them.

If even he can keep moving,
Can put one foot in front of the other
And trust that they will take him somewhere
Then so can I”

I want to lead the troops
Deeper into the swamp
Than man or woman has ever gone
And trust that somewhere
In this gooey, putrid mess
There lies an orchid
A magic jewel that transforms
The mud in which we are encased
Into the heavenly armor that allows us
To fight our way to the gates of hell
Crash through
And be burned alive
Into the phoenix we were meant to be

If my road must be the low one
Then let me not settle for just
Both feet on the ground
Life, make your drill bit
To the center of the earth 

It may hurt like hell going down
But I want to see what’s there