I followed the sun
on my walk-about, stepping
into places it had washed over.
Reaching out, only to have it cascade
over my forearm
and cast shadows
on concrete
-firm footing and echos pairing.
A recurrent arrangement
coupling in a wake behind me.
I’ve planted my gardens, the seedlings are nestled in soil.
Their placement in sunshine and shade impacting the toil
of the growth and the fruit that they bear.
All I can now do is tend to the water and care
of the ground and the branches where the issue resides
and pray that fair weather and gain will intensify.
That one day these young for which I’ve aided and viewed
will grow with abandon, and with their sustenance accrued
plant their own gardens and remember the day
of planting and harvesting love in their own unique way.
****************
Not sure of what to call this yet. And I think it is a sonnet in the making. Right now, though, it expresses a profound sentiment in this poet’s life.
I’ve noticed how
you reach for a speck
or a fleck of dust –
a strand of hair –
and remove it;
using your thumb and
middle finger to cinch
then pull away
the stray trinket.
And just as nimbly,
You eye
with a glance,
just on the chance
that some appraisal is not
justified.
Then release -aside-
the interloping bits
that cling-
These things.
********************
I like to observe how people interact – with others, with their surroundings. Sometimes you can infer things by observing behaviour. Sometimes not…
In all, a simple poem with some nice elements.
My poems seem like a recipe
for whole grain bread.
The water and oil,
though critical,
don’t mingle – dissimilar things
have no bound surfaces- but you add salt and sugar anyway-
Having faith in the mix.
Pouring in flour and seeds
can appear chaotic, yet it is
purposeful to the blend. Some flour
is white and smooth,
some of it is wheat and coarse
– textured-
with grittiness of flax seeds,
and oats, and rye.
A small divot in the pile
is home to bread yeast, a catalyst, an ache,
that fuels the rising dough over time.
If using a machine, then you’re done.
The poem can bake and rise, and still be tasty –
but it misses an opportunity.
A need.
Something you add.
Handle the dough
Grasp
Folding the blend
Feeling the texture
between your fingers.
Press into the bowl
massage and cajole-
form and remake
this merger, new
with each tumble
and clutch.
This wielding power comes from you
to make the poem combined and mingled
and mean something that will not dwindle
with time.
And the bread will be just fine.
*************
Trying to jump back in the saddle of writing again. I’m not so sure that this is best, final version of this. I enjoy breadmaking for the robustness of the bread and the physical handling that makes it such an individual creation, much like poetry.
After reading the completed poem, I like the additional symbolism that this offers as well.
Please forgive me if my poetry wanes a bit over the next “while.” I feel as if NaPoWriMo 2015 exhausted me. For a writer who generally lets things stew a bit before committing them to characters, 31 poems in a row takes it out of you. I don’t know how the poem-a-day folks do it. You could tell by the end of April, I was grasping and relying on simple forms to get me over the line. They might turn into bigger things someday.
Further, I’ve got a lot of life juggling going on right now. The good news is…I’m back to work. YAY! After 9 months of slogging away in the job market (it is no picnic), I received a job offer from where I least expected…and wasn’t even considering- my former employer. I am very grateful and hopeful for a better direction than my previous position offered. I am excited about learning new things. It’s a little weird going back to work at a place from which you were dismissed. Even if the reasons are business/budget/headcount-related – getting let go is painful. But, it is going to be fine.
Just to keep in the habit of writing, I thought I’d post a bit about my unemployment “by the numbers.”
9 months unemployed
which translates to 276 days
1 remodeled/refloored bathroom
3 painted rooms
1 repainted front door
23 donations made to charity via closet and basement cleaning
70 Beanie Babies donated to worthy causes
24 loaves of bread baked
15 new recipes attempted
4 batches of salsa made and consumed
3 batches of green tomato salsa made and consumed
3 batches of tomato sauce made and consumed
1 book of poetry assembled and self-published
> 200 jobs applied for
7 different versions of my resume’
2 site interviews
1 online video interview (weird experience)
7 multiple phone interviews
150 loads of laundry completed
26 VHS home movies copied to digital format
3 seasons of Rat Patrol watched
4 seasons of Warehouse 13 watched
4 weeks employment at a Home Improvement Store
81 blog posts (including 31 days of NaPoWriMo)
I think it was a productive time, though filled with doubt and stress at times. I definitely felt the support of friends and family, especially my wife and two sons.
So, if you are going through something like this: Stay busy, putter, focus on what matters, give yourself some time to grieve and move on, allow yourself some fun, learn something new, don’t give up.
Good things happen all the time.
I’ve been doing a bunch of bits and pieces of things over the past week, I feel very scattered. I haven’t really had time to sit down and write much. This is OK. Life happens. I do have a lot on my mind these days.
I had some blogworthy tidbits I wanted to jot down, but they were not worthy of single posts…kind of like kernels of popcorn that presented themselves.
National Poetry Writing Month is just around the corner. I last participated in 2013 (I think). I proudly completed the entire month for the first time. Well, I’m committing to do it again in 2015. It’s a good way to stretch your poetry legs, gets some things written down, try new forms, and shake out the dust. If you are a poet, and are participating, let me know. So we’ll see how this goes.
A reminder, my very first chapter book Accidental Songs is available on Amazon. I self-published this collection. I invite you to check it out, purchase it 🙂
Spring is getting its claws in the seasonal change, judging from the number of robins that I’ve seen recently, the rapid changes in weather that are apparent, and my allergies ramping up. I’m looking forward to the green landscape though.
I happened to read this quote in my twitter feed this week,
“We’re all smart, distinguish yourself by being kind.”
This was posted in a twitter account entitled “ShitAcademicsSay”. I don’t know the origin of the quote, and have been looking for it’s primary source. The original context apparently has to do with academic publishing and review, but I see it as a more universal restatement of the golden rule. I like it.
I heard Nat King Cole’s version of Smile a few weeks ago. The music by Charlie Chaplin, John Turner and Geoffrey Parsons added the lyrics and title in 1954. It was a mantra for a few days in the bleakness of winter. I love how a verse, a song, a quote, or even a picture can present a moment of beauty and relief.
That’s it. Popcorn’s done.
Stop and hear the hornpipe and jig
as the springtime rolls in, pushes away
winter’s white cloak.
It draws the living from their depth
to click heels – stomping the last
of the chill- pointing to summer’s thrill
as it leaps and bounces and reels.
**************
Something for the emergence of spring, also in keeping with the recent St. Patrick’s Day festivities.
Charlotte,
prickling leaves while
her reclining posture
whispers an invitation, told
of truth.
The wind
awaits her voice
that mocks despair, her tree
ruffles yet remains quiet, and
steadfast.
Damsel,
in blue gingham
by angel’s wings she sings –
broken, igniting fierceness,
she mends.
***********
Some observations about this poem. I’ve never personally known or physically met anyone named Charlotte. I follow a couple of blogs and have read several other blogs this week written by women named Charlotte. It’s coincidental, yet fascinating to me that so many Charlottes present their writing on blogs that I should read in one week. I love the sounds the name makes. It’s a name made to be whispered.
For a few months now, I’ve been been collecting and reviewing, editing and reviewing, fretting and stewing, anxiously awaiting reviewing. I’ve been putting together my first collection of poetry. It is a chapter book that is my first attempt at widespread publication, entitled Accidental Songs.
It was both exhilarating and frustrating. The selection process for poems in a collection lays bare all the insecurities that I had in writing them in the first place. I believe that some of them are great poems, some of them are not that great. Some had to be cut altogether, others were recut and reformed into something that fit the overall idea for the collection. But as the sum of the whole, I think they all contribute something to the collection, and that was what I wanted.
I want to thank Sarah Wesson and Sherry O’keefe for their time and valuable comments during the manuscript review.
And I want to thank my wife for being the incredible supportive spouse she is. Thanks babe.
Of course, I invite you to visit Amazon.com and have a look for yourself. I’m proud that I could accomplish this effort. If you should choose to purchase a copy, Thanks!
Taps and Ratamacues 