Never

Almost done! Just one more prompt after this one:

" ...title your poems "Never (blank)" with you filling in the blank with a word or phrase. Then, write a poem based off your title."

I just went with "Never."

Never

Never miss a chance to pause
and look at blades of shadow
falling from the morning sun
on your love’s sleeping face.

Never lose that friend who
sits silently down in your
sorrow, takes your hand,
and waits for it to pass.

Never forget the wonder of
holding your first baby, how
the force of your love almost
cracked the earth to its core.

Never doubt that hope is
always an option, a skill
you can learn, an ability
that can belong to you.

Never believe God is not
with you, always waiting
for you to call out to Him,
to seek His beautiful Face.

CONTINUE READING...

Perseverance in Prayer

As this is the end of National Poetry Month, I thought I'd post this poem by John Calvin about prayer:

Perseverance in Prayer

Lifting up our hearts,
We should ever aspire to God
And pray without ceasing.
Still, such is our weakness
It must be supported by many helps,
Such our sluggishness
It needs to be goaded.
Consequently fitting it is
That each one of us should set apart
Certain hours for this exercise,
Hours that should not pass without prayer,
Hours when all the heart's devotion
Should completely engage in prayer.

When should we pray?
Upon arising in the morning,
Before we begin daily work,
When we sit down to a meal,
When by God's blessing we have eaten,
When we are preparing to retire.

No superstitious observance of hours, this.
Whereby, as if paying our debt to God,
We fancy ourselves paid up
For the remaining hours.
No, it must be a tutelage for our weakness,
Exercised and repeatedly stimulated.
Whenever we are pressed
Or see others pressed
By any adversity,
Let us hasten back to God,
Not with swift feet
But with eager hearts;
On the other hand,
Let us not permit the prosperity
Of ourselves or others to go unnoticed,
Failing to testify, by praise and thanksgiving,
That we discern God's hand therein.

- John Calvin, The Piety of John Calvin by Ford Lewis Battles.

CONTINUE READING...

Yellow House

The prompt yesterday from PA was:

"...to write a sestina."

Huh? A what?

Apparently, to write a sestina poem you need to pick 6 words, rotate them as the end words in 6 stanzas and then include 2 per of the words per line in your final stanza. BEWARE: THIS CAUSES MASSIVE HEADACHES. DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME WITHOUT A BOTTLE OF ASPIRIN NEARBY! Click here for a really good tutorial on how to attempt a sestina.

We only have two more prompts left to go, thank goodness! It's getting painful....for me and I'm sure for my bloggy friends out there that are still reading my drivel! :-)

Really, this was super hard for me. The topic that's been running around in my mind is the fact that our good friends' house across the street just closed and new people are moving in this week. The new family took the old family's name off the mailbox yesterday and it made me very-very-super-sad. They've been out of the house for many months now, so I was surprised at how upset it made me. Blah.

Anyway, here's my six words: family, house, first, remove, name, neighbors.

Yellow House

Today I watched a new family
move into the big yellow house
across the street. The very first
thing they did was to remove
from the mailbox the name
of our previous neighbors.

Slowly I’m sure the new neighbors
will become friends of our family.
We’ll get to know their names,
their plans for changing the house,
which trees they will remove,
what bushes they will plant first.

But, honestly right now, just at first,
I’d rather not meet new neighbors.
I’d really rather they didn’t remove
the marks left by the other family.
Don’t worry, I know it’s their house –
that it’s right to change the name.

But I don’t even know their names
yet. Not their last, nor their first.
I wonder if they will love this house
as much as our old neighbors?
Will they bring up a large family
here or be quickly on the move?

From a window I watch burly movers
cart boxes marked with the names
of each place they belong - family
room, kitchen, den. A good neighbor,
I suppose, would ask to help out at first –
bake cookies, an offering to the new home.

And so I sit restless in my own house.
It’s hard to make myself go, make a move.
I miss my old friends, my old neighbors.
I knew them so well – not just names,
but so much more. Even at the very first
they were like missing pieces of family.

Yes, I’ll go to the new neighbor’s yellow house,
meet their family, offer to help with the move,
learn their names. It will just be hard at first.


(Art by Andrea Pratt)

CONTINUE READING...

A Needful Thing

Yesterday's prompt from PA was to:

"...write a poem of longing. You or someone (or something) else should be pining for someone or something."

The question "What are longings if not prayers?" popped into my mind and was the beginning of my poem. It didn't make the cut, but the idea of "prayer" did. I pictured my prayers as being great birds that I set free over a tumultuous ocean hoping that they will make it to God.

A Needful Thing

A voiced and needful thing
loosed from my lips and sent
circling and cawing and calling;
talons once buried deep in
the flesh of my heart unfasten
and fly Heavenward to You.

Standing in the surging surf,
I watch my plea rise in hope,
only to see it dive deftly
into the black depths
below, abandoning me.

Surely, there could be no
survival – for me or my prayer.
It has failed to reach
Your Heaven,
And I have failed attract
Your notice.

But I wait – what else is there
to do? Where do I have to go?
And miracle - I find my prayer
floating on rocky waves, satisfied
and full, one with the storm.

So, this is it. I understand, then.
My longings, entreaties, cries-
sometimes must first dwell in
deep darkness, and all I can do is
stand and wait and watch.

CONTINUE READING...

Miscommunication

Ack! I'm plum out of poetry! Well...here's yesterday's prompt from PA:

"...write a poem involving miscommunication. It can be miscommunication between two people or misinterpretation of some sort."

And here's all I could come up with...

Miscommunication

But, I thought-

He said,
She said,
You said,
We said,
They said?

Miscommunication
Rumination
Fabrication
Libation
Ablation

Perhaps we should consider
abbreviation?

(Artwork by Carl E. Moore)

And please do check out Cayenne Lemonade's latest poem...Not sure if this one is based on the "miscommunication" prompt or the "longing" prompt or was just found in some dark recess of DT's ingenious mind. Love you, Cayenne Lemonade!

CONTINUE READING...

Sabbath Morning Prayer

Yesterday's poetry prompt from Poetic Asides was to:

"...pick an event; make that event the title of your poem; and then write a poem."

I thought of today being the Sabbath and decided to make that my title. Here's what came out:


Sabbath Morning Prayer

“The end of all things is near,” I read in
First Peter this morning while everyone
slept. Praying, sitting on the porch, I
watched the sun rise through the trees,
and sipped coffee from my favorite mug.

“The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,”
we sang in church, hands and voices raised
Heavenward, beseeching. Outside, the clean
April heat waited to envelop us, promising
long summer days just around the corner.

How hard it is to keep the end in view, to
believe this world to be fleeting, when by
Your Grace the sun rises and sets every
day, the seasons come and go every year.
Help me, Lord, to live each day as my last.

CONTINUE READING...

Four Corners

The prompt yesterday from PA was:

"...to write a travel-related poem. It can be human travel, the migration of swallows, the trafficking of drugs, etc. Some sort of movement from point A to point B."

I think I'm hitting the proverbial "poetic wall." Nothing too profound today. All I could think of was a photo my mother has of me at the Four Corners Monument from one of our very few family vacations. And, yes, I really had on red, white, and black plaid pants.

Four Corners

Driving 1200
miles and rising
4800 feet from the
sweltering flatland swamps
of Sportsman’s Paradise to the
crisp and cool Four Corners Monument.
Me, in red and white and black plaid pants, nine –
or ten, hair cut like a boy’s, spread eagle
across Utah, New Mexico, Arizona
and Colorado – amazed at the
thought of being in so
many places
at once.

CONTINUE READING...

Book Sale

I picked the books listed below up at the Book Sale at our little town's Spring Fest today. Mary and I had a great time together. She had saved $24 of allowance money and we had fun spending every...last...penny - a small shiny stuffed mouse, a homemade bitty baby outfit with matching shoes, and a nifty brown and green purse. We stopped by and saw our friend CD at the yarn shop and set up a knitting lesson for next Tuesday. Looking forward to that!

Of course, my book money came out of my pocket, not hers! $4. The glass of lemonade we gulped down was more than that at $5. Can you believe?

Faith and Fiction: The Modern Short Story edited by Robert Detweiler
The Lives of the Muses by Francine Prose
The Writer's Presence: A Pool of Essays edited by Donald McQuade
Sleep Thieves by Stanley Coren (Hardback and my best buy of the day!)
The Collected Stories of Eudora Welty (giving this one away to a book club member!)

CONTINUE READING...

Three Friends

Here's Mary (the dog) and her two buddies since birth at their school's play last night. They did a fabulous job in a rendition of The Magician's Nephew. Wow!

CONTINUE READING...

Book Review: Not the Way It's Supposed to Be

Not the Way It's Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin by Cornelius Plantinga Jr., Publisher: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company (January 1995), ISBN-10: 0802842186

Source: My friend Lynn recommended years ago
Rating: 5 of 5 STARS

How does a book about Sin/sin get a rating of 5 out of 5 STARS? Well - though sad and depressing in some ways, it was convicting and enlightening in others. It shone a spotlight on some areas of my life that I need to address. Ick. But it also gave me a bigger picture of God's grace and mercy, a better understanding of why exactly Christ had to die for us. Although written in 1995, the cultural examples were still fresh and caused me to question some of my behaviors and thought patterns that might be acceptable in our world today, but that are not compatible with God's holiness and His plan for us.

The best way I know to summarize this book is to give you a very short overview of each chapter:

1. Vandalism of Shalom - Plantinga shows us what exactly sin is against: "Shalom is the webbing together of God, humans, and all creation in justice, fulfillment, and delight." He also develops a working definition of sin: "a culpable and personal affront to a personal God."

2. Spiritual Hygiene and Corruption - Plantinga leads us in a discussion on what exactly is meant by the 'corruption' of sin ("an unhappy cluster of spiritual perversion, pollution, and disintegration"). He says that "all serious Christians subscribe to the generic doctrine of corruption, the centerpiece of which is the claim that even when they are good in important ways, human beings are not sound." The rest of the chapter explains what a spiritually sound person would look like (or a person with good spiritual 'hygiene.') Great, great chapter!

3. Perversion, Pollution, and Disintegration - Practical definitions of perversion and pollution due to sin are given and examples examined of both the public and private life. The last section looks at sin as disintegration, and specifically delves into our sexual misconduct and excesses.

4. The Progress of Corruption - This was a wonderfully insightful chapter, discussing the truth of how sin patterns tends to chase families from generation to generation. The last half discusses the 'Law of Returns', basically that we reap what we sow.

5. Parasite - This chapter outlines the fact that evil is a perversion of good and therefore cannot exist on its own. A detailed (and convicting) discussion of pride (hubris) follows.

6. Masquerade - Everything you wanted to know (and not) about hypocrisy can be found here. Discussion on racism and genocide, self-deception and corrupt religion make this an exceptional chapter in an exceptional book.

7. Sin and Folly - Plantinga explores what a lot of us already know: sin is just plain stupid. He has a great section on what wisdom really is and why sin is therefore, ultimately, foolish. ("What is it about sin that makes it so foolish? Sin is the wrong recipe for good health; sin is the wrong gasoline to put in the tank; sin is the wrong road to take in order to get home. In other words, sin is finally futile.")

8. The Tragedy of Addiction - Is a person who is addicted to something (alcohol, drugs, etc.) culpable for their behavior? Is it sin or a symptom?

9. Attack - "Sinners make moves or assume postures. In a classic pattern, human beings attack and then they flee." This chapter looks at the attack mode pulling out one specific sin of attacking others: envy. Plantinga goes deeply into this very ugly sin - its roots (pride, anger) and its results (death).

10. Flight - Finally, Plantinga looks at eight ways that we evade: conforming, conniving, leaving town, specializing, minimizing, going limp, cocooning, and amusing ourselves to death. Also, he talks about how we even flee from Shalom itself.

This isn't an easy beach read. I highly recommend it, but read it sometime when you have time to concentrate, time to look up scripture references, time to read a chapter and then go for a walk to ponder what you've just read.

It's well worth the mental and spiritual exercise and I'll mark this one as a book to read again.

CONTINUE READING...

Regrets - If I Had Been Eve

Mmm...Yesterday's prompt from PA was to:

"...write a poem of regret. Get creative with this one, but there should be some form of regret either expressed or hinted at (even if ever so slightly). You do NOT have to use the word "regret" in the poem, though it's fine if you do."

Yikes. Regret. At 40, it seems that I'm beginning to think about some of that more and more. I actually wrote what I suppose you could call a 'prose poem' a year ago titled "Regrets":

Regrets

How do you staunch the flow of regret in your life - those things you wish you wouldn’t have done…or would have done…or said…or didn’t say? Do you press down hard, hoping it will clot before there is a bloody mess? Or do you take more drastic measures – tie a tourniquet around the offending memory and twist it tightly, painfully, until the opened vein is clamped off, but a piece of you is left numb and useless? Or maybe you follow old folk medicine and use cobwebs to stop the bleeding - usually there are plenty of those hanging about in the corners of our minds? No – I say let it flow, hot and sticky, down your body, seeping into your heart, until you can really see the sorrow of it all; let it settle, pool...thicken. Then open your hands and lift them up, still damp with your sadness, to the Great Physician, the Remover of all regrets, and watch as He washes you clean.

But - I guess the idea of the challenge is to do something original. So...as I am continuing (almost finished) with this book I'm reading on Sin/sin, the idea of regretting my Sinfulness/sinfulness came to mind....and this is what came out:

If I Had Been Eve

If I had been Eve,
I like to think things
would have turned
out quite differently.

But – let’s be honest –
it’s very doubtful.

I would have grabbed that apple -
peeled it, sliced it, and diced it.

I would have eaten
it whole, gobbled it
down and sucked
that core dry.

I would have spit the
seeds on the ground
and watered
and nurtured
and cared
for those little
saplings until I had a
whole forest from
which to choose.

I would have made
apple juice,
apple sauce,
apple butter,
apple pie,
apple strudel,
apple dumplings,
apple pudding,
apple bread
and apple cake.

Then I would have put my
whole creative culinary
display on a sparkling silver
platter and offered it right
up to dear ol’ Adam, making
sure he emptied his plate
and licked his fork clean.

If I had been Eve,
I imagine…
things would
be quite worse.
:o)

CONTINUE READING...

Two More Doodles

I can't tell you how much doing these little doodles calms my soul. I can be upset, my mind racing a mile a minute, and if I start drawing, things seem to settle down almost with an audible 'click'. Not all of the time I spent doing these were also spent praying, but at least some of the time was. My mind can so much easier focus on the people and things I'm praying about when I'm doodling.

Top drawing: Identi-Pen (fine/extra fine), Staedtler pigment liner (0.7), Micron pen (01).
Bottom drawing: same as above and added pencil shading.

CONTINUE READING...

Conjure

Yesterday's prompt from Poetic Asides was:

"...write a work-related poem. Work doesn't have to be the main feature of the poem, but I want you to "work" it in somehow."

I thought about my old jobs and remembered one I had while first married. I worked for a prosperous realtor in our town writing ads for her house listings. I never actually saw the houses themselves, but she would give me snapshots to write from. Ah - my first (and only) writing job! :0)


Conjure

Maybe three, or maybe four,
lifetimes ago I had this job -
sitting in a dusty back room
of a sprawling old house
converted into offices. It
squatted under archaic
live oaks decorated with
Spanish moss like tinsel
on Christmas trees. A window
unit, my humming knight in
shining armor, fought the
flame-breathing summer heat
for me. And most days the
dragon lay slain. Looking at
photographs of houses, I
would conjure them up with
words, invoking their presence
magically onto paper: remodeled,
revamped, redone, redecorated,
repainted, reduced. Re-everything.
And all for sale. Square footage,
half baths, patios and attic fans –
Nooks, decks, and hardwood
floors – Spacious, homey, cozy
and, of course, fantastic –
Three short lines of newsprint
to describe where people had,
were, or would
live and die.
We were
renting.

CONTINUE READING...

To Haiku Or Not To Haiku...

Yesterday's prompt from Poetic Asides was to write a haiku poem. I've tried these before...and, well, I don't think I really get it. But here's two that I came up with while driving into work in the dark this morning.


New Day

Sunrise in the East,
Driving West into darkness,
New day chasing me.


Beauty

Moon in the darkness,
Shining star hanging near-by,
Beauties in the sky.

CONTINUE READING...

Beach Huts

Time for a new look! Somehow I stumbled upon photos of beach huts. According to Wikipedia, they are:

"...small, usually wooden and often brightly coloured, building above the high tide mark on popular bathing beaches. They are generally used for changing into and out of swimming costumes and to provide a base for informal family recreation. Some beach huts incorporate simple facilities for preparing food and hot drinks."

I've never seen these before and, from what I can tell, they are not a very popular in the US, but are found more in England, Australia, Mexico, and South America. I could SO do this!

Although red is my favorite color, these blue huts caught my eye and made me long even more for the beach! It's almost BEACH-TIME here and I can't wait. Being on the beach does my soul good!

(This particular hut is in Hengistbury Head, Dorset.)

CONTINUE READING...

Thy Kingdom Come

Yesterday’s prompt from Poetic Asides was to:

“…write a poem of rebirth. There are many different types of rebirth available, including the changing of the seasons, the beginning of the day, religious or spiritual rebirth, a reconfirmation of good in people, re-learning how to love, etc.”

Rebirth…renewal…hmmm…This idea brought me to a great book I’m reading on Sin (and sin) and a quote I came across from Irenaeus, an early church father (c. 202AD.) Irenaues attributes the quote below to the Apostle John as he was telling of Christ’s teachings on the coming of the Kingdom and the renewal of Creation. It's long, but go ahead, it's worth it!

“The predicted blessing, therefore, belongs unquestionably to the times of the kingdom, when the righteous shall bear rule upon their rising from the dead; when also the creation, having been renovated and set free, shall fructify with an abundance of all kinds of food, from the dew of heaven, and from the fertility of the earth: as the elders who saw John, the disciple of the Lord, related that they had heard from him how the Lord used to teach in regard to these times, and say: The days will come, in which vines shall grow, each having ten thousand branches, and in each branch ten thousand twigs, and in each true twig ten thousand shoots, and in each one of the shoots ten thousand clusters, and on every one of the clusters ten thousand grapes, and every grape when pressed will give five and twenty metretes of wine. And when any one of the saints shall lay hold of a cluster, another shall cry out, I am a better cluster, take me; bless the Lord through me. In like manner [the Lord declared] that a grain of wheat would produce ten thousand ears, and that every ear should have ten thousand grains, and every grain would yield ten pounds of clear, pure, fine flour; and that all other fruit-bearing trees, and seeds and grass, would produce in similar proportions; and that all animals feeding [only] on the productions of the earth, should [in those days] become peaceful and harmonious among each other, and be in perfect subjection to man.” - Irenaeus, Against Heresies, Book V, Chapter 33

What a lovely picture of the redemption of Creation. So, of course, this is my inspiration for a “renewal” poem this morning.


Thy Kingdom Come

Can you imagine?
When your eyes will really see,
When your ears will clearly hear,
When your tongue will truly taste?

Now it’s through a glass darkly -
Seeing glimmers of potential,
Hearing whispers of rejoicing,
Taking sips of redemption.

Can you imagine?
What wonders to behold,
What praises to be sung,
What joys to be tasted?

See the lion with the lamb?
Hear the people praising?
Eat the wedding feast -
Imagine!

CONTINUE READING...

And Another One...

Another child with a driver's license! We've survived the first one and we're now on to number two. E successfully got her driver's license today and is off to pick up her little sister from play practice (after getting gas for me - cool, huh?) They are going to swing through DQ on the way home - Big Sis's treat!

Today was E's examiner's first day on the job in our county. She just transferred from Scotland to Moore and has the (ahem) endearing tendency to call people "Honey." :-p I don't think she appreciated having her picture taken by some weirdo mom who is probably going to post it on the Internet. BTW, this was taken after E knew she had passed. Note the very happy smile. She was soooo incredibly nervous.

CONTINUE READING...

Anger

Ack! My head is aching - looong meeting today at work...hurry, hurry, hurry to buy Mary a costume for her play this weekend...then off to pick up E to get her DL. (More on that later!) Poor Matt! I only vaguely remember gulping down lunch with him at my desk. (Sorry!)

Yesterday's prompt from Poetic Asides was:

"...write an angry poem. That is, a poem about someone or something that gets angry."

Ah - anger. A toughie. My take was on how so many of us (often women) shut down in the face of anger...How paralyzed we can feel when some one's anger is pointed at us and fired. Why are we like that? And why do some people seem like they could care less?

Anger

In the face of Anger
she shuts down,
whirling silently
closed like a camera’s
aperture, successfully
shuttered against the
rage, but barricaded too
from the Light of Life –
wilting and dying. In an
instant gravity lets loose
and she floats away.
Cupped hands to mouth,
I shout her name –
but she is gone, escaping,
building a world better
fit for the blind and the
lost. But I see a small slip
of courage showing, the
teensiest crack opening.
She is beginning to fill
her ballast tanks,
beginning to find her
way home, testing the
waters to see if the
Anger has gone.

CONTINUE READING...

Connected

Boy! Am I ever late - but a good Sabbath day! I slept in because we were out later than usual last night, visiting with some friends and listening to music at the Jefferson, so no writing this morning. Then off to church followed by a picnic with our small group at Aberdeen's Lake Park. And...of course...the requisite nap. (That's in the Bible somewhere isn't it? Thou shalt take a nap on the Sabbath.) Then we had dinner on the porch - red beans and rice. Yum. (I used the ham bone from last Sunday's Easter dinner instead of sausage.) I love this time of year when our back porch becomes another room in the house. And...best of all...Ellie came home from her trip to Texas! She was gone over a week and we were all really glad to see her safely back in North Carolina. She goes to get her driver's license tomorrow. Gulp! Can you believe?

So - yesterday's prompt from Poetic Asides was:

"...write a poem with an interaction of some sort. The interaction does NOT have to be between people, though it can."

Here's mine...an "interaction" I had with Sean about twenty years ago. We love this story!

Connected

He was three – sturdy, blond, blue
eyes – a beautiful, beautiful boy. It
was Saturday and raining. His Dad was
at work and I had left him in the living
room playing so I could change the
sheets on our bed. It was our first
house – not ours really – just a rental,
but a real house with a real backyard,
fenced, and safe. Two bedrooms, a
sunny kitchen with white tile counters,
and hardwood floors. I had just tossed
a freshly washed sheet up in the air so
it would fall open on the bed when I
heard him cry.

I was like that sheet then for just a
moment: snapped taught, opened up,
hanging in time. “They’re naked
together! Mommy! They’re naked
together!”

Oh, no - I had left the television on.

The snippets from the news about the
war were giving him bad dreams – full
blown sweaty, cry-out-loud, panicky
nightmares. I had promised to be more
careful. I would, I vowed, be a better
mother. Now what had he seen? What
piece of innocence had been stolen from
him? I ran around the corner to find him
staring up at me in wonder – eyes wide,
mouth curved in a sweet smile. Big Bird
was talking to Cookie Monster in the
background, feathers and fur completely -
and thankfully - intact.

“See, Mommy? They’re naked together.”
He held up a tower of red, blue and
yellow Legos. Connected together.
Ah.

I sighed, and my heart, like the sheet,
floated silently - softly - back in place.

CONTINUE READING...

The Way He Painted Venus

Mary had a history project on the Renaissance artist Sandro Botticelli. She's been working on it for the past two weeks and did a fabulous job of preparing ahead of time....making note cards, doing research, reading books, etc. She even put together a poster board with examples of his work to use during her oral presentation. The photo above is one I took while she gave her presentation in front of her fellow students and their parents. I was very proud of her.

Here's the funny: On her poster she displayed Botticelli's two most famous works of art -Primavera and Birth of Venus. She was practicing her presentation with her Dad and told him that she didn't have the whole painting of the Birth of Venus displayed, just Venus' head.

Dad: "Oh, was that because of the way you printed it out?"

Mary (very matter-of-fact): "No, it's because of the way Botticelli painted her."

Ha! I love my girl. Below is what Mary displayed on her board...and Botticelli's unedited version just below. :o)

CONTINUE READING...

All I Want

The prompt from yesterday at Poetic Asides was:

"...write a poem with the following title: "All I want is (blank)," where you fill in the blank with a word or phrase of your choosing."

Psalm 84 came to me this morning. It's one of my favorites.

All I Want

All I want is just one day
in Your courts,

a place near Your alter
in which to shelter my
children,

a pool to wash my soul
as I walk through the
Valley of Weeping,

that I may rise up from
my sadness renewed
and refreshed, a pilgrim
ready to travel again.

All I want is for You
to hear me.

Lord, be my Sun -
yet be my Shield.

CONTINUE READING...

Blue

A little late today....busy, busy! The prompt for yesterday with Poetic Asides was:

"...pick a color, make that the title of your poem, and write a poem that is inspired by that color."

Red is my favorite color, but "blue" is what came out! Here's my go:

Blue

The slightest hint in
a slivered piece
of summer
moon

Soft and milky in
a blinkless
newborn
stare

Washed out in
a favorite
pair of
jeans

Shimmering in
the ocean’s
rolling
waves

Painted solid in
a pillowed
Carolina
sky

Navy, denim, steel,
slate, aqua, teal -
comfort
colors.

CONTINUE READING...

Doodling & Praying

Another Zendala...praying and doodling...doodling and praying...

CONTINUE READING...

A Noisy Impatient Chicken

The poetry prompt for yesterday from Poetic Asides was:

"...take the title of a poem you especially like (by another poet) and change it. Then, with this new altered title, I want you to write a poem. An example would be to take William Carlos Williams' "The Red Wheelbarrow" and change it to "The Red Volkswagon." Or take Frank O'Hara's "Why I Am Not a Painter" and change it to "Why I Am Not a Penguin." You get the idea, right? (Note: Your altered poem does NOT have to follow the same style as the original poet, though you can try if you wish.)"

Here's my go at it:

A Noisy Impatient Chicken

A noisy impatient chicken
fenced within the farmhouse yard,
cluck-clucking and strut-strutting,
dusty beak pecking and pecking and pecking,
ever searching, ever looking.

And me, my tired Soul, bent low -
hedged in, boxed in, a limited space to roam,
always exploring, complaining, tut-tutting,
until that surprising cracked door is found
that opens my small world all ‘round.


Adapted from A Noiseless Patient Spider by Walt Whitman (found in Leaves of Grass)

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