Exit National Poetry Month

Today is the last day of April and the last day of National Poetry Month. It’s been an interesting and enlightening month. Thanks to my blogging poetry friends (and family) I was introduced to several new poets in addition to poems from some familiar faces. I think the best thing, though, was getting treated to some of their own poetry. I have some very talented friends and family members!

One poet I’ve found I like from my Garrison Keilor anthology is Jane Kenyon. There are several of her poems included in the collection, but the following is one I especially like.

Let Evening Come

Jane Kenyon

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.

The Legacy Guide

A good friend and I always exchange our Christmas gifts on New Year’s Eve. Her gift to me this year was a copy of The Legacy Guide by Carol Franco and Kent Lineback. A brief glance through it looked quite interesting and I set it aside for closer examination at a later time. I didn’t realize that within 24 hours the addition of two new puppies would drastically reduce my free time and change my priorities.

Several weeks ago I finally had time to sit down and give the book a closer inspection. It’s a guide for “capturing the facts, memories, and meaning of your life” and is set up in a manner that easily walks you through the steps for doing this. Think you can’t write well enough? Perhaps you don’t believe anyone would be interested in your life. Even if they were, could you remember enough to write about? All these concerns and more are addressed in the book. It’s totally up to you to decide how detailed you want to get or how much time you want to spend working on it. Maybe months, maybe years. There are no hard, fast rules. All you need is a ring binder with dividers, some loose-leaf paper and something to write with.

The book has inspired me. In fact, I’m so impressed with it that I’ve mailed copies to each of my siblings. I have no idea if they will follow through and use the guide, but I honestly believe if they’ll just read the first 30 pages, they will be inspired, also.

It may take me the rest of my life to complete the project, but when you really think about it… shouldn’t it?

Poetry of the Psalms

All this talk of poetry draws me to what I consider some of the most beautiful poetry in the world: the book of Psalms from the Bible. I memorized the 23rd and the 100th as a child and studied many others throughout my life, but it’s only been in recent years that I’ve grown to have a true appreciation for the Psalms.

I’m presently doing a Beth Moore Bible Study entitled Stepping Up: A Journey Through the Psalms of Ascent. The study focuses on Psalms 120-134 which were traditionally sung by Jewish pilgrims when traveling to and worshiping at their great festivals in Jerusalem. According to the Talmud, there was a strong association between these 15 psalms and the 15 steps which led from the Court of the Women to the Nicanor Gate in the Temple. It’s been a fascinating study so far and is greatly enriching my relationship with God.

In this particular study, Moore uses the Holman Christian Standard Bible as the study text then adds a second translation, such as the Amplified Bible or The Message for additional insight. I enjoy reading different translations, but my favorite is the NIV (New International Version) so that’s the one I’ll use here while sharing some of my favorite verses from the Psalms. Speak them aloud and let their beauty wash over you!

“I lie down and sleep;

I wake again, because the LORD sustains me.

”Psalm 1:5

“Remember not the sins of my youth

and my rebellious ways;

according to your love remember me,

for you are good, O LORD.”

Psalm 25:7

“You turned my wailing into dancing;

you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,

that my heart may sing to you and not be silent.

O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever.”

Psalm 30:11-12

“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted

and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

Psalm 34:18

“Delight yourself in the LORD

and he will give you the desires of your heart.”

Psalm 37:4

“Many, O LORD my God,

are the wonders you have done.

The things you planned for us

no one can recount to you;

were I to speak and tell of them,

they would be too many to declare.”
Psalm 40:5

“God is our refuge and strength,

an ever-present help in trouble.”

Psalm 46:1

I could go on and on. Instead, I’ll just leave you with the beauty of Psalm 27 in its entirety.

The LORD is my light and my salvation—

whom shall I fear?

The LORD is the stronghold of my life—

of whom shall I be afraid?

When evil men advance against me

to devour my flesh,

when my enemies and my foes attack me,

they will stumble and fall.

Though an army besiege me,

my heart will not fear;

though war break out against me,

even then will I be confident.

One thing I ask of the LORD,

this is what I seek:

that I may dwell in the house of the LORD

all the days of my life,

to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD

and to seek him in his temple.

For in the day of trouble

he will keep me safe in his dwelling;

he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle

and set me high upon a rock.

Then my head will be exalted

above the enemies who surround me;

at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy;

I will sing and make music to the LORD.

Hear my voice when I call, O LORD;

be merciful to me and answer me.

My heart says of you, "Seek his face!"

Your face, LORD, I will seek.

Do not hide your face from me,

do not turn your servant away in anger;

you have been my helper.

Do not reject me or forsake me,

O God my Savior.

Though my father and mother forsake me,

the LORD will receive me.

Teach me your way, O LORD;

lead me in a straight path

because of my oppressors.

Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,

for false witnesses rise up against me,

breathing out violence.

I am still confident of this:

I will see the goodness of the LORD

in the land of the living.

Wait for the LORD;

be strong and take heart

and wait for the LORD.

Poetry anthologies

I decided to take Marion’s advice and look for a good poetry anthology. A visit to our local “mom & pop” type bookstore yesterday yielded two purchases.

The clerk recommended the first, Good Poems – selected and introduced by Garrison Keillor as heard on The Writer’s Almanac. I can already tell it’s going to be my favorite. It’s filled with a huge selection of poems, both contemporary and classic, and interestingly arranged by topics such as work, snow, death and the color yellow. I’ve included here a poem by Anne Sexton from the section called “A Good Life”.

Courage

It is in the small things we see it.

The child's first step,

as awesome as an earthquake.

The first time you rode a bike,

wallowing up the sidewalk.

The first spanking when your heart

went on a journey all alone.

When they called you crybaby

or poor or fatty or crazy

and made you into an alien,

you drank their acid

and concealed it.

Later,

if you faced the death of bombs and bullets

you did not do it with a banner,

you did it with only a hat to

cover your heart.

You did not fondle the weakness inside you

though it was there.

Your courage was a small coal

that you kept swallowing.

If your buddy saved you

and died himself in so doing,

then his courage was not courage,

it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.

Later,

if you have endured a great despair,

then you did it alone,

getting a transfusion from the fire,

picking the scabs off your heart,

then wringing it out like a sock.

Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,

you gave it a back rub

and then you covered it with a blanket

and after it had slept a while

it woke to the wings of the roses

and was transformed.

Later,

when you face old age and its natural conclusion

your courage will still be shown in the little ways,

each spring will be a sword you'll sharpen,

those you love will live in a fever of love,

and you'll bargain with the calendar

and at the last moment

when death opens the back door

you'll put on your carpet slippers

and stride out.

~ Anne Sexton ~

The second book is a collection of contemporary poetry taken from the Poetry Daily website. It contains 366 poems, one for each day of the year. Now I will have no excuse not to read at least one poem a day for the next year!

Do they look any different?

Overnight vet trip

Removing their womanhood

No future puppies

Okay, enough with the Haiku!! Alice and Mabel were dropped off yesterday morning for their appointment to be spayed. It was an awfully calm, quiet 24 hours around here. Amazing how attached you can get in just a few short months! I’m not sure if Betty and Esther missed them as much as my husband and I did, but they’ve been good sports about welcoming them back home.

Denise Levertov

I still haven’t figured out where I heard about John Leax. Something Quid said made me think it might have been from a book I got awhile back called Of Earth and Sky: Spiritual Lessons from Nature. Compiled by Thomas Becknell, it is made up of poems and short essays showing how various themes such as justice, faith and prudence are modeled in nature. The book is filled with names I recognize and many I don’t, but no Leax.

One of the familiar names is Denise Levertov, a poet I’m positive Marion first told me about. After researching some of her books, I settled on The Stream & the Sapphire, a volume of selected poems on religious themes. Finding a couple of her poems in Of Earth and Sky was an added bonus.

Here are some of her poems for your enjoyment:

The Avowal

As swimmers dare

to lie face to the sky

and water bears them,

as hawks rest upon air

and air sustains them,

so would I learn to attain

freefall, and float

into Creator Spirit’s deep embrace,

knowing no effort earns

that all-surrounding grace.

~Denise Levertov

Adam's complaint

Some people,

no matter what you give them,

still want the moon.

The bread, the salt,

white meat and dark,

still hungry.

The marriage bed

and the cradle,

still empty arms.

You give them land,

their own earth under their feet,

still they take to the roads.

And water: dig them the deepest well,

still it's not deep enough

to drink the moon from.

~Denise Levertov

Celebration

Brilliant, this day – a young virtuoso of a day.

Morning shadow cut by sharpest scissors,

deft hands. And every prodigy of green –

whether it's ferns or lichens or needles

or impatient points of buds on spindly bushes –

greener than ever before. And the way the conifers

hold new cones to the light for the blessing,

a festive right, and sing the oceanic chant the wind

transcribes for them!

A day that shines in the cold

like a first-prize brass band swinging along

the street

of a coal-dusty village, wholly at odds

with the claims of reasonable gloom.

~Denise Levertov

More Haiku

The positive feedback to my recent attempt at Haiku inspired me to work on some more over the weekend.

Many times as a child I remember riding in the car, traveling on dark, rural highways where the homes are few and far between. Whenever I saw a window lit from within, I always wondered about the people that lived there.

Riding in the car
My nose pressed against the glass
Staring through the night

Yellow squares of light
Reveal lives unknown to me
Making me wonder

Inside a dark house
The blue glow of a TV
Flickers silently

Behind drawn curtains
Imaginary people
Going about life

During the first year we were married, my husband and I both got our private pilot’s license. The following summer we took a road trip to Las Vegas with another couple, driving straight through. Airport beacon lights were fresh on my mind at that point and I remember how many I saw as we made our way along the darkened interstate.

Rotating beacons
Calling out to distant planes
Come this way! Land here!

Okay, I’ll admit that last one was a little corny!

Tabloid News

I don’t remember who told me about John Leax. (Marion, was it you?) I just know his name was one of two that appeared under “poetry” on the list I had compiled for my recent Barnes & Noble visit. It was a bit disappointing not to find anything from either poet in the meager B&N poetry section. Though I prefer to browse books in person (especially new authors), I resorted to picking out something at Amazon.

Tabloid News immediately caught my eye. It didn’t fit what I remembered being told about Leax’s work, but I couldn’t resist taking a chance on it. I’m so glad I did!

The idea for the book first came to Leax while standing in a grocery store checkout line. Looking at the tabloid headlines he wondered what the stories would be like if the headlines were actually true. So, over a period of several years he wrote these “true stories” based on the headlines he saw.

At first glance I thought the book would be nothing more than a joke. However, underneath the humor there is a depth and poignancy I didn’t expect to find. If I’ve aroused your curiosity in the least, go to Amazon and read about it. You might be pleasantly surprised.

A Matter of Survival?

Debby had an entry yesterday that spoke of the mental struggle which goes along with the physical battle when facing a life-threatening illness such as cancer. The article below is something I wrote for another site a number of years ago. It’s been on my mind a lot lately and seeing Debby’s post prompted me to share it again here.

A Matter of Survival?

My father died in June of 1970. It was just a month short of my mother’s 49th birthday and their 27th wedding anniversary. During the brief six months that Daddy battled cancer, I don’t think death was ever considered as a possible outcome. Therefore, nothing was done to get my father’s “affairs in order” or to prepare my mother for widowhood. She never envisioned life without a husband.

Mother and Daddy met in college and married in July of 1943. During the two years between graduation and marriage, Mother lived at home and taught school. As was the case with most women of her era, she never lived on her own. She went from the protection of her parents directly to the protection of her husband. While Daddy served overseas during WWII, Mother lived in the home of her mother-in-law, along with her sisters-in-law whose husbands were also deployed. She never learned to look out for herself.

I remember well the grief, confusion and loneliness that filled our home after my father’s death. I was eleven years old. Both of my older siblings had left the nest and my other brother had just completed his junior year in high school. Oddly enough, my paternal grandmother continued to live with us for several more years even though her daughters lived in homes on either side of us. Mother renewed her teaching certificate and went back to work.

My teenage years were actually quite happy. Mother and I were very close and, looking back on it, I realize now just how dependent she was on me. I helped her with everyday things like balancing the checkbook and general home maintenance. Her entire life revolved around me. She often made the statement that she only wanted to live long enough to see me on my own. It always irked me that she said this, but I never really took it seriously. I couldn’t imagine losing another parent so soon.

Mother’s cancer was diagnosed the summer after my junior year in high school. She was in and out of the hospital my entire senior year. By May the cancer had spread from her bones to her brain and she had reached the point of seldom being lucid. I was told that the night of my graduation she was aware enough to know what was happening. She died four days later… right on the schedule she set for herself.

I’ve always felt that things worked out the way they were meant to, as perverse as it might sound. It was much easier for me to set out on my own without Mother than it would have been for her to cope with the emptiness my graduation would bring.

I vowed to myself that I would never, ever be so dependent on someone that I couldn’t survive without them. Through the years I’ve learned that there is a delicate balance between independence and knowing when to lean on others.

My own Haiku

I knew after reading Quid’s Haiku this week that I wanted to try writing some of my own.
Here are my first efforts and what prompted them.

Each Spring I am reminded anew just how many variations there are on the color green. I see it in my daily walk to the mailbox, particularly on a bright, sunny day.

Vibrant shades of green
Brand new leaves against blue sky
The colors of Spring

These same daily walks are often a time when I feel very close to God. Perfect for praising, praying or just listening for Him.

Marking steps with prayer
God’s presence all around me
Speaking to my soul

I mentioned in a recent entry that my bird feeders were busy with Cardinals and Goldfinches. The past few days they’ve been joined by Indigo Buntings… one of my favorites!

Bold, red Cardinals
Buntings of electric blue
Bright yellow Finches

I’ll never forget the first time I discovered how noisy cows can be when they graze! It made me laugh to hear the steady ripping of the grass as they slowly worked their way across the pasture.

Cows attack the grass
Tearing apart the silence
Heads never look up

Top quality? Nah, but the important thing is that I had fun writing them and want to do more.

Monday entertainment

Quid posted an entry the other day filled with Haiku, her “Lightning Series”. She’s an amazing poet and it’s a beautiful example of her work.

Not to detract from her talent, I was reminded of a funny e-mail I received years ago which contained “dog haiku”. Of course that e-mail is long gone, but a quick Google search brought up plenty of samples of what I remembered. Although not all of them are true to form, here are a few for your Monday entertainment.

I love my master;
Thus I perfume myself with
This long-rotten squirrel.

Today I sniffed
Many dog butts - I celebrate
By kissing your face.

I sound the alarm!
Mailman - come to kill us all -
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!

How do I love thee?
The ways are numberless as
My hairs on the rug.

I hate my choke chain -
Look, world, they strangle me! Ack
Ack Ack Ack Ack Ack!

You may call them fleas,
But they are far more - I call
Them a vocation.

My human is home!
I am so ecstatic I have
Made a puddle.

Dig under fence - why?
Because it's there. Because it's
There. Because it's there.


Here's a picture of Betty with our granddaughter yesterday.

Green Tea

Green tea is good for you! For awhile it was all the rage and I really tried to like it. It just didn’t happen for me. Give me a nice cup of black tea or the occasional oolong instead.

I like experimenting with different varieties of tea and have several places I order from. About a year ago I received an order from Stash which included a couple of bags of loose green tea I had not ordered. In correcting the error they allowed me to keep the tea at no cost. The bags sat in the back of a drawer until I recently came across them again and decided to see if my tastes had changed.

I don’t know if it was really a change in taste or just a more appealing blend, but I was pleasantly surprised. It’s called “Tea of a Thousand Charms” and is a blend of Huo Mountain Yellow Sprouting, Young Hyson Gunpowder, Mao Feng and Dragonwell. Not something I want every day, but I’ll certainly finish what I have. I haven’t tried the other bag which is “Gunpowder Green”.

Pictured here is my new Lotus Blossom teacup with its own infuser and lid.

Relax. Have a cup of tea.

Bird stuff

It’s a beautiful day! Temperature in the 70s, blue sky, everything blooming...perfect for being outside.

There has been quite a bit of activity on my birdfeeders lately. A few goldfinches are still hanging around, only now they are bright yellow with little black caps. Even when I don’t see any dove scrounging for dropped seeds, I can still hear them calling from the woods. My imagined boycott of the new feeders must be over, too, since the cardinals are once again plentiful. There’s been an odd looking fellow at one of my feeders – a brilliant red male, minus his tail feathers! He’s come to the feeder more than once, so I know he really exists. I was starting to doubt what I’d seen until he made a second appearance.

On a darker note, I had a rather disturbing experience while driving to Little Rock on Monday. I was traveling along a rural highway, admiring all the beautiful dogwood trees in the woods, when all of a sudden a huge hawk came diving across the highway. Wham!! It hit smack dab on the front grill of my car... and stayed there! I felt sure it died on impact, but I knew I needed to stop and see. Besides, I felt like every driver I met was gawking at the unusual "ornament" on the front of my car! At the next town I pulled into a parking lot and assessed the damage. I won’t go into detail, but let’s just say it took a considerable amount of effort to right the situation. It’s a good thing I’m not a particularly squeamish person! It just made me sad for the poor hawk.

Bittersweet emotions

Losing both of my parents at a tender age gave me a different perspective on extended family.

I am the baby of two babies. My closest sibling is more than five years older, my closest cousin more than seven. All the others range up to 25 years older. By the time I came along, most of the extended family events had ceased taking place. For that matter, once I was school age it was rare for my immediate family to gather very often. Family dynamics change. In some ways this was to my advantage. I might have missed out on lots of extended family fun as a kid (some of my cousins or siblings might argue how much of that was really fun), but I had the opportunity to get to know my aunts and uncles in a different way.

Of six siblings, only my father’s middle sister remains. We celebrated her 97th birthday this past week. She’s rather feeble and has trouble moving around, but her mind is still good enough to have enjoyable conversations. I visited my mother’s only sibling, a sister, yesterday. Always healthy in both mind and body, she was struck with cancer a year and a half ago and has struggled with that ever since.

For awhile I was too absorbed in my own life to visit them regularly. Thankfully, I've gotten beyond that. I've realized it's a connection I don’t want to be broken. When I visit we sometimes talk about the present, but mostly we laugh and tell stories about the past. We remember those who are gone. Each time I hug them goodbye a little part of me wants to cling and hold fast.

They are the last link to my mother and father.

*********************************************

In honor of National Poetry Month, I want to share this poem my grandmother wrote shortly after the death of her two year old son. It’s a repeat for those who use to read my 360 blog, but certainly worth posting again here.

Separation


I went up to your room to get some little thing--
And there it overtook me --all the grief.
I'd kept my courage up, been brave,
I'd tried so hard to keep submerged
And even smiling;
Now, in the midst of all these dear,
Reminding things,
That courage drained away -
It was pretense - this was reality.
Nothing in me was beautiful and brave.

I know not when it was He slipped into the room
And took my hand in His.
Perhaps He'd been there all the time,
And I had been too occupied with striving to be brave
To sense His nearness.

He said, "Let not your heart be troubled.
I am always here".

Slowly His peace filled all my anguished soul.
His was the courage,
His was the joy.
And they were mine for just the taking.
He filled my every need.
And there, O sweet surprise! O gift of love Divine!
He let me see His other hand!
And there you were, your hand held fast in His.
You, I, and He held close together by those pierced hands,
Enfolded, wrapped within that wondrous Love.

He smiled, "Had you fogotten
Nothing can pluck my own from out my grasp"?

Oh, may I ever keep you close
By keeping close to Him.

Palm Sunday

I started this puzzle several weeks ago with the goal of having it finished by today. Appropriately titled Palm Sunday, it’s the work of artist Ruane Manning. I’ve done other puzzles featuring his artwork including At the Watering Hole and one depicting Jesus as the Good Shepherd.

In honor of the day I’m posting the legend of the Donkey’s Cross along with a photo of the cross on Buster's back.

The Donkey's Cross

"Bring me the colt of a donkey," was
the Master's request.

A young donkey was brought to Jesus
to carry Him into Jerusalem.

A week later Jesus was ordered crucified.

The little donkey so loved the Lord that
he wanted to help Him carry the cross.

But alas, he was pushed away.

The sad little donkey waited to say
goodbye until nearly all had left.

As he turned to leave, the shadow of
the cross fell upon his back and shoulder.

And there it has remained, a tribute to
the loyalty and love of the humblest
of God's creatures.

author unknown

Gallon Nippers

Seen any gallon nippers lately?

Wait, maybe you know them by another name. How about mosquito hawk, jimmy spinner or gollywhopper? All are names for the crane fly, an insect that resembles a gigantic mosquito. A few weeks ago we saw one in our church craft room that captured everyone’s attention. It had picked up a dust bunny from the floor with some silver glitter mixed in and as a result looked quite interesting cruising around the room.

Like most folks, when surfing the internet I’m easily led from one link to another. While looking up gallon nippers I happened on this page of AR-bonics. Despite living in Arkansas the majority of my life, many of the words listed were “foreign” to me. There were a few, though, that I’ve used a number of times.

Getting back to crane flies... according to Wikipedia it is a misconception that they prey on adult mosquitoes. That’s too bad since the only reason I ever refrained from killing them was the thought they were keeping blood-suckers at bay. In the future they better watch out for my swatter!!

I'm a Winner!!!

I am so excited!

Debby recently posted an entry about a contest on her friend Scotty’s blog. Scotty posted a photo with instructions to guess what it was and write a little something about it. The photo fascinated me and I decided to take on the challenge.

What a thrill to find out this morning that I had won!! Next step is to see about claiming my prize… a photo taken by Bush Babe. If you’ve never taken a look at her work, you’re definitely missing out on something.

Thanks so much, Scotty, for sponsoring the contest and for choosing me as the winner. Thanks, too, to Bush Babe for providing the prize. Of course I must thank Debby as well for posting the entry about the contest or I might never have known about it. And Hal… if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t even know Debby!

I’d better stop… this is beginning to sound like an Academy Award acceptance speech!