Election day poetry

I’m taking a poetry class this fall, and one of our assignments was to write a praise poem making use of anaphora. One family member recently said he’ll be relieved when the election is over and soul-sucking campaign ads go away. Another family member reminded him that the campaign for next year’s gubernatorial contest has already begun here in the Bluegrass State, and that even national figures are positioning themselves for the 2020 presidential campaign.

It’s always election season somewhere

Praise for the First Amendment and freedom of speech.
Praise for lies and slander, attack ads and smear
campaigns, for fake news and media hype, fearmongering
and fact checkers, for dark money and tracking polls,
backbiting and mudslinging, for chants and slogans, bumper
stickers and yard signs, for phone calls and leaflets, billboards
and rallies. Praise for turning out the base and turning off the electorate.
Praise for public service announcements and voter registration drives, fiery
oratory and nonviolent protest, for town hall meetings and candidate forums,
viral videos and op ed columns, for endorsements and letters
to the editor, electronic voting machines and paper ballots.
For the First Amendment and freedom of speech, we give praise.

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Late summer garden beauties

For the sake of arachno-squeamish readers, I’ve begun this post with a photo of my Hibiscus moscheutos — reblooming!

But the lovely lady pictured below made my whole summer when she appeared in the side yard last week. She’s an Argiope aurantia, commonly called a black and yellow garden spider, and the first I’ve ever had in my own yard. She’s somewhat small, only about an inch long in body, but I love that she’s out in her web during the day, which means I get to see her as I come and go.

(As I write this, I’ve been watching a Neoscona sp. outside the living room window. It’s overcast today and she’s repairing holes in her web in anticipation of better hunting this evening.)

Wishing you the joy of whatever is on display in the gardens around you!

Found poetry: Isaiah 40 devotion

Life, work, and everything: when the universe gives you a time-out, it is best to pay attention. Here’s hoping I’ll soon catch up on my posting.

Isaiah tells it straight

The tongue of a teacher speaks truth:
a world mad with nonsense, everything solid melting –

interrupt the weary with hope, teach
the soul force of steadfast love, confront the brute

force of warring factions fearful of radical
hospitality, of justice, of mercy

Pray for the heart of faith, to stand against the wall
beside those who are stricken and insulted,

with a face like flint, without shame, knowing
vindication is near

Inspired by today’s God Pause devotion from Luther Seminary: http://www.luthersem.edu/godpause/default.aspx for Sept. 10, 2018

And for your viewing pleasure, this is from my garden: a great spangled fritillary (Speyeria cybele) on garlic chives (Allium tuberosum). This is a great reason not to spray your lawn with herbicides, by the way, because violets are the larval food of this butterfly. My lawn is full of violets, and my garden is full of butterflies. 🙂

More found poetry from Carrot Ranch

Still catching up (with work, this time) and still finding inspiration at Carrot Ranch.

Pieces

memory is not exact
but combined
with time
rather than being
recent brain activity

it is possible
even if it is not true
remembering creates fiction
a part told truthfully
our life story

identity is not researchable
through our actions, our parents, our name
labelled, repeated, assumed
selective stories keep
who we are over time

(from Irene Waters’ post at Carrot Ranch: https://carrotranch.com/2018/07/13/life-is-a-memoir-what-is-fiction/)

And here’s what’s blooming in the garden this week: Hibiscus moscheutos ‘Lord Baltimore’

Found poetry from Carrot Ranch

Trying to catch up on several weeks’ worth of e-mail, I was struck by the latest Flash Fiction Challenge at Carrot Ranch. Charli Mills’ introduction provided a jumping-off point for me today, even if it ain’t flash fiction.

The privilege of a lifetime

I want to be that woman bold enough to wear buttons
as a necklace, who can look cool

on a hot summer day. We all want our characters
to be heroes. Like others hit by disaster

before us, we know the word strong but dance
around the word hero. We all resonate

to the journey, the cave, the return, the elixir of hope —
just not the label. We all deny the call.

The hero’s journey is messy: uncomfortable moments
and difficult seasons, a tadpole

in a ray of sunlight. It’s like birth. It’s like death.
We know it can never be the same.

Button up.

 

Day 28, LexPoMo 2018

Late on the evening of the previous post, I ran afoul of some uneven sidewalk while out with the dog. I took a tumble, but thank the stars it was dark (no witnesses) and I got away with nothing more than a skinned knee and a sprained hand. I’ve been sidelined for almost two weeks because it was my dominant hand, but have gingerly started working back into more normal activity.

Last week I began attending a wonderful class on memoir as poetry. Not being able to write has been maddening, but today I was able to participate more fully and produced the following.

Summer vacation

The creek ran beside the yard
next door then under the road
into a wooded ravine we didn’t know
belonged to the Mathews.

We were frontiersmen, brigands, the Swiss
Family Robinson – fending for ourselves
with pocket knives and wits and the odd
piece of string, up and down the creek bed
every day until the mosquitoes
rose at dusk and drove us home.

(Reposted from the Lexington Poetry Month web site: https://lexpomo.com/poem/summer-vacation/)

Day 17, LexPoMo 2018

I think I overdid it yesterday (or maybe I spoke too soon about needing less cough medicine): the cough is back. It’s hard to go slow when you start feeling better after being under the weather for a while.

Listen to the forest

trees with roots entangled
like lovers, joined by soil
bacteria and mycorrhiza

leaves and branches arch
overhead, interlace, form
a bower, a sacred canopy

try to parse the language
of fungus and pheromone,
electron and ion channel

close your eyes and tune
your skin to the wordless
sea of conversation

 

Inspired by an article in the March 2018 issue of Smithsonian Magazine: “The Whispering of the Trees,” by Richard Grant.
https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/the-whispering-trees-180968084/

(Reposted from the Lexington Poetry Month web site: https://lexpomo.com/poem/listen-to-the-forest/)