Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Nature: Her Words



  “Just living is not enough….one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower.” — Hans Christian Andersen



Photo: Sumana Roy


 Modern science says: 'The sun is the past, the earth is the present, the moon is the future. 'From an incandescent mass we have originated, and into a frozen mass
we shall return. Merciless is the law of nature, and rapidly and irresistibly we are
drawn to our doom" Nikola Tesla





Midweek Motif ~ Nature: Her Words



We are back to Nature with our eyes open and heart ready to receive.

She is everywhere even within one self. Watch, listen and feel Her.

You might pay Her a visit by the riverside, sea-beach, or deep forest, mountains, in your innermost being or just might open the window and let Her in.

Captivate the form Nature reveals to you: animate, inanimate.

You might assume Her voice if you wish to and tell Her story: 

Fog
by Carl Sandburg

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.



On The Grasshopper and Cricket
by John Keats

The Poetry of earth is never dead:    
  When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,    
  And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run    
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;    
That is the Grasshopper’s—he takes the lead       
  In summer luxury,—he has never done    
  With his delights; for when tired out with fun    
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.    
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:    
  On a lone winter evening, when the frost      
    Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills    
The Cricket’s song, in warmth increasing ever,    
  And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,    
    The Grasshopper’s among some grassy hills.



      Nature Is What We See
   by Emily Dickinson 

"Nature" is what we see—
The Hill—the Afternoon—
Squirrel—Eclipse—the Bumble bee—
Nay—Nature is Heaven—
Nature is what we hear—
The Bobolink—the Sea—
Thunder—the Cricket—
Nay—Nature is Harmony—
Nature is what we know—
Yet have no art to say—
So impotent Our Wisdom is
To her Simplicity. 



  A Minor Bird
by Robert Frost

I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;

Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.

And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.





Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community—
                (Next week Susan’s Midweek Motif will be ~ Respect) 


Monday, August 21, 2017

Poems of the Week ~ by C.C., Kathleen and Grace

We have three delightful poems for your enjoyment and contemplation this week, my friends, written by  C.C., of Conscious Cacophony, Kathleen Everett, of The Course of Our Seasons, and Mary Grace Guevara of Everyday Amazing. We think they go well together, and will leave you feeling uplifted. Enjoy!



Sunrise in Mexico - by CC


NEW DAWN

yes, love is a shadow
a tattered tassel
hanging
frayed
in the wind

but, every morn’
the sunrise offers you
a bouquet of orange
for you to interpret
as you choose

will you board
up your heart
hold the line
in silent darkness
or listen to the drum
that still beats
in your chest
and dance to
the speakers
that pump music
through your soul?

yes, love is a shadow
but light filters
back in
when you honor
the signs at work
in each new dawn

CC photo


Sherry: I love the honoring of the signs in each new dawn. A wonderfully hopeful message, C.C.

C.C.: Sylvia Plath is one of my favorite poets. Her words always strike me with such force that I often feel emotionally compelled by them. When I read, "Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it. Listen: these are its hooves: it has gone off, like a horse" I felt compelled by sadness, thinking of someone who gives up on life when Love gallops away. I had this image of someone boarding up her heart in silent darkness and beating her chest, lying and crying alone forever. 

What a shame! There is too much beauty offered up to us each day. Live for it. Stay open to it. Embrace it. It's there for the taking for all of us. So, I was inspired to write about the choice that each new dawn offers every single one of us, no matter what hoofbeats echo in the grief and shadows of the darkest corners of loss in our lives.

Sherry: I love the idea of those hoofbeats of grief. I think we all have heard them a time or two. Thank you for this, C.C., and for the lovely photos of that new dawn. I always think how wonderful it is that, no matter what is happening in our lives, the new dawn comes up each morning, giving us a brand new day in which to begin again. Morning is one of God's best ideas, I think.

Kathleen enchanted me, with her recent lines about Dusk, a charming fellow, presented in this poem as I have not seen him before. Let's read:




Kathleen and Bob


Kathleen Everett photo




dusk saunters up the lane
whistling for his dog
and filling his pipe
leaning against the fence post,
he squints into the setting sun
and waits for twilight to arrive
wrapped in a mantle of early evening stars,
she skips down the lane
her steps light and lovely
tipping his hat,
dusk climbs the western ridge
trailing shadow
and wisps of smoke
as twilight fills the darkling sky
with the smiling crescent moon
and the scent of sweet honeysuckle

Sherry: I absolutely adore the voice in this poem, insouciant Dusk strolling along, filling his pipe, anticipating Twilight tripping down the lane in her long skirts. Such gorgeous imagery and delightful personification.

Kathleen: This poem came about when I was writing snippets of poetry on Twitter. It was one of those long spring afternoons when the sun was stretching out shadows and the character of dusk just came to me. And of course, he needed a partner, so why not twilight. I love giving them a life and a bit of a story. Maybe I will follow them again to see where they might lead.

Sherry: I could read a whole chapter like this, and never stop smiling! Let's take a look at Grace's poem, also rich in imagery, shall we?







the sun is a milk-cotton daisy
blooming along side glorious tulips

              i will not count
              creases on my forehead

the sky sings a breezy fruity tune-
while dandelions sip yellow tea 

             i will not rue
             emerging strays of white hair

the wind brings lake's salty tears-
seed pods open, spraying golden grains

             i will not bother
             creaming my wrinkled hands 

the trees are shimmering glassy chandeliers 
covering cracks, like leavening on dry crust- 
             
             i am grateful -
             another day of beginnings



Sherry: Grace, from the title to the closing line, this is so uplifting, and so welcome in these days of dark news. We do need to remember to be grateful for the beauty and love around us. It is our solace and relief. How did this poem get born?

Grace: That day was my special day, my birthday.   I wanted to remind myself of the beautiful lessons I have learned from other people who are aging gracefully.   That of acceptance and perseverance, and also a healthy attitude towards embracing change.  I still have many things I want to accomplish, so this year will be another year of milestones for me.  

I also love nature and marvel at the changing seasons.   Each season is beautiful and though there is decay, the cycle of life is always a journey of beginnings.  

These lines are positive affirmations for me. I count my blessings and I am grateful for the love and support I have at home, at work and with my friends, including poets and writers around the blogosphere. 

Sherry: Positive, indeed. We have to hang onto gratitude for our blessings, for the beauty of nature, for friendships near and far. Our solace in turbulent times, which make such blessings even more dear. Thank you, Grace.

Thank you, dear poets, for lifting our spirits with your beautiful poems. I hope our readers come away with more hopeful hearts from this reading.

Wasn't this lovely, my friends? Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!


Sunday, August 20, 2017

Poetry Pantry #367


Photos of Tonga
by Marja Blom



Beach


Wave Blowholes


Coconut



Fale - Traditional Tongan Houses


Tongan Dance


Wave Blowholes Once More




Greetings, Friends.  And a happy Sunday to you.   Once again we are sharing some photos taken by Marja Blom.  This time they are of Tonga.  Thanks, Marja.  Really looks like a beautiful place to visit.  And, by the way, we will be able to enjoy more of Marja's photos over the next weeks, here in the Pantry.  Stay tuned!

We had another good week at Poets United.  Sherry started our week off with her wonderful conversation with Susan Chast about the workshop she attended with Marge Piercy.  And what a chat it was.  If you haven't read this chat, please scroll back. There were so many wonderful responses to Susan's Midweek Motif prompt - Flood.  And, if you haven't read Rosemary's I Wish I'd Written This post about poet Judith Crispin's poem "Claire de Lune."

Next Monday Sherry is featuring three wonderful poems of the week by three poets we all will recognize.  Smiles.  And Wednesday Sumana is prompting us to write about "Nature: Her Words."

With no further delay, let's share poetry.  Link your poem below.  Stop in and say hello in comments.  Visit the poems of other people who link.  Come back a few times to check on the new people who link.  See you all on the trail!