Hello to all my Poetry Friday friends! Happy March!
We had a lot of rain recently, and the river is brown with mud and my yard is squishy. When I walk I have to be sure to wear shoes that can handle mud. And when I get home, I clap my shoes together to get the mud out from between the lugs. If that doesn't work, I have to scrub with a brush. It is mud season. No doubt about it. So I wrote a poem for Poetry Friday!
Poetry Friday is a weekly blogging event in which poets, writers, readers, and lovers of poetry share blog posts about poetry. It was started by Renee La TuLippe back in 2015 and it's still going strong.
This poem is a nonet. It begins with a line of nine words, then a line of eight, seven, six... until you reach the last single word.
I felt that mud would be a worthy topic for a poem. You can judge for yourself.
Nonet to Mud
Mud spatters, clings, pulls at wheels, tugs at feet
Mud traipses and tracks through bottomlands, barnyards, doorways
Also, I remembered a mud song, and I found it performed by Flanders & Swann. Apparently they had a program back in the black and white television days. I don't remember them personally, but I find the performance amusing, and I hope you do also.
Thanks for reading my muddy words. Please leave me some comments. And thanks to Laura Purdie Salas for hosting today. She has a new book to celebrate, so please click in to her blog and give her a note of congratulations. You can find her blog HERE. Then, follow the links at her blog for more poetic goodness.
Welcome to my meanderings for Spiritual Journey Thursday. Ramona is hosting today and she offered the prompt of "gathering goodness." Thank you, Ramona!
This month offers a number of reasons to gather goodness. Spring officially arrives this month, and with it all the hope and labor of new life. And Easter arrives this month, a celebration of life and redemption. My OLW for the year is "song," so I am pleased to share with you this beautiful Redemption Song as arranged and played by the Kanneh-Masons. I always enjoy this family, and their musical offerings are surely good things to gather in your basket.
I've been watching the live video of an eagle's nest, which hatched two fluffy chicks this past week or two. You can celebrate the new chicks by clicking HERE. In a few short months these sweet little puffballs will turn into fledgling eagles. The transformation is miraculous and surely a good thing.
Frederich Buechner wrote: When God created the creation, God made something where before there had been nothing, and as the author of the book of Job puts it, "the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy" (38:7) at the sheer and shimmering novelty of the thing. (from Wishful Thinking)
Buechner's description, his "sheer and shimmering" is a delight to me. I hope I never forget that the world awakes new every morning, always ready to surprise and delight us. I hear mourning doves regularly now, as well as a chorus of various twitterings, and I see robins and blue jays, and the geese honking as they fly over. Yesterday I walked to the river and saw several mallards and a merganser winging its way up the river. Every bush seemed to sprout buds overnight. I can almost hear the world waking up, ready to grow and thrive again.
This beautiful song by John Rutter, sung by a wonderful young chorister, celebrates the goodness of the world. All Things Bright and Beautiful. Enjoy:
I wish you a sheer and shimmering sense of wonder as spring comes into full bloom. In the meantime, check out the offerings by Ramona and other SJT participants. Click HERE.
Hello all Friday Poetry Friends and visitors. I'm throwing together a post today, last minute. Why not?!!
I've been trying to write daily as per the Stafford Challenge. I watched Kim Stafford's presentation, but I haven't followed too closely beyond that. Nonetheless, I'm writing more, and that is a good thing.
So... I watch the eagle nest which is streamed from Duke Farms, near me. Today there's snow in the nest, the wind is up, and the parent eagle is snuggling dried grass around the edge of the incubation area. One day, not long ago, I caught the sight of the nest with two beautiful eggs, but no parent. It took my breath away! Then a happy resolution. So I wrote this little poem:
Two bare eggs in a cold nest
Enters a flourish of feathers
Gentle turning of an egg
Two eggs snuggled
I smile
-Karen Eastlund, draft
Another day, on my walk along the river, I saw a blue heron in a tree. I'm still struggling to express my impression of that heron, but in my various attempts I wrote this limerick. Call it a draft... it's a draft!
Hello everyone, and welcome to February! I don't know about you, but the months tend to sneak up on me. Where did January go? Nonetheless, each day is a gift, as is the first day of February. Thanks to Patricia Franz for hosting our Spiritual Journey group. She offered "love is" as a prompt, but I chose to take up another of her topics: reverie. Find her "love" post and links to other contributors
You are no doubt familiar with the painting titled The Sleeping Gypsy by Henri Rousseau as seen below. This image of reverie fascinates me and connects me with a song, and since "song" is my OLW this year, I hope to tie it all together.
Rousseau described The Sleeping Gypsy this way: “A wandering Negress, a mandolin player, lies with her jar beside her, overcome by fatigue in a deep sleep. A lion chances to pass by, picks up her scent yet does not devour her. There is a moonlight effect, very poetic.”
The Sleeping Gypsy by Henri Rousseau
Good art reaches out to each of us uniquely, and I wrestled with this painting some years ago. The moon glow gives an ethereal quality to the scene. The lion is alert, but calm. The woman fully at rest. And the river is tranquil. What's it all about?
A song/hymn came to me, an old hymn: words by William Williams, 1745. Music by John Hughes in 1907.
"Guide me, O thou great Jehovah
Pilgrim through this barren land
I am weak, but Thou art mighty
Hold me with Thy powerful hand"
The gypsy knows her vulnerability, and weariness has overtaken her. She has reached the river. Is she is ready to cross over? The lion, in all its strength and majesty, reminded me of Aslan in the C.S. Lewis books. The lion is fierce but will not devour her. Instead, it watches over her, guards her on this beautiful evening.
Another verse of the hymn:
"When I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious fears subside;
Death of death, and hell's destruction,
Land me safe on Canaan's side"
I was familiar with this hymn's tune and enough of the lyrics that I was able to connect it with Rousseau's image. In 2016 I wrote a poem using some words of the hymn as well as some lines from Psalm 23. I've updated it for this post and reworded a line from yet another song to end it.
Reverie
At last the river!
The sojourner rests
Deep in sleep
Under the round moon
A silent sentinel
Eyes fierce as fire
Watches over her
Protects
Calms
Exhausted
Her dreams weave
and flow:
"...Pilgrim through this barren land
Guide me, O thou great..."
Even though I walk through the valley
You are with me
"I am weak, but Thou art mighty..."
Your rod and your staff
Comfort me…
Surely goodness and mercy...
Shine on me this night
I'm finally going
over home.
Karen Eastlund
2024
There are many recordings of this hymn on YouTube. I hope you like this one with breaking waves in the background, sung by the Fountainview Academy. (How on earth did they get a piano on the beach?)
Another song to pair with this image is Wayfaring Stranger. Here it is, sung beautifully by Rhiannon Giddens. I chose to end my poem with a slight rewording of the final line from this song.
I Am A Poor Wayfaring Stranger
Traditional
I am a poor wayfaring stranger
A-trav'ling through this land of woe.
And there's no sickness, toil or danger
In that bright world to which I go.
I'm going home to see my father (mother, sister, brother etc.)
I'm going there no more to roam;
I'm just a-going over Jordan
I'm just a-going over home.
I know dark clouds will gather 'round me
I know my way is steep and rough;
But beauteous fields lie just beyond me
Where souls redeemed their vigil keep.
I'm going there to meet my mother
She said she'd meet me when I come
I'm just a-going over Jordan
I'm just a-going over home.
I want to wear a crown of glory
When I get home to that bright land
I want to shout Salvation's story
In concert with that bloodwashed band.
I'm going there to meet my Saviour
To sing His praises forevermore
I'm only going over Jordan
I'm only going over home.
💝
May your dreams be full of song and hope. I wish you a wonderful February.
Do you yearn for snow? I feel a sense of surprise and wonder with snowfall. I find it magical and transformative. Will flakes come down like feathers or hard little diamonds? Will they dance and twirl, or slant down with vengeance? Will I be able to smell snow in the air?
A snow storm brings drama; it's a play with many actors. Will it be comedy? Romance? Tragedy? I may watch indoors or go out to feel the flakes on my face and catch some on a dark coat sleeve. Is it a heavy snow for making snowballs, or are the flakes feathery and light, dancing and twirling down? Snow can be silent, shrouding the earth, or it can have a voice. It can whisper, or hiss. It can sting.
I'm like a school child when a winter storm comes along. I want a good show. I delight at the beauty and despair at the slop, but any way you look at it, I want snow. For me, winter without snow is a letdown.
This December we had warm weather and rain. Twice we had floods. Who needs this? I want snow!
I no longer know this photo's origin, but what attitude!
This week we finally had snow. Below is my reaction by way of an elfchen, or elevensie, which I learned about from Margaret Simon. It's a short little thing, but I had fun with it. Eleven words in all, one word to begin and one to end. Then two, three, and four words per line. I didn't follow the rules exactly. Mine is more like a story than a description of the first word, but poetry is forgiving that way.
Alas, these photos are from earlier years. Our recent snow barely covered the grass, and then freezing rain. So I'm still dreaming of snow pillows, but don't despair, more snow is on the way!
Go ahead, give me some feedback! I'd love to read your (polite and constructive) comments.
Poetry Friday is an online poetry party, and you are invited. Many thanks to Robyn Hood Black for hosting Poetry Friday today and for sharing everything lovely about tea, including some tea haiku. Click HERE to find her post and links to other Poetry Friday poets.
It's early January and our Spiritual Journey group has the habit of choosing One Little Word (OLW) as a guide for the year. Choosing the word can be an arduous journey in itself. I notice that several of us have considered a particular word, decided to look further, but ended up coming back to the first word. I'm in that camp this year.
I've been waking from sleep with songs in my head. A dream may be vividly playing in color, random and surprising, but usually behind it is a song. It may be a song I've most recently sung in choir, but sometimes it's a song from childhood, a song I haven't heard in years. It doesn't matter where they come from or how much of the tune I remember, it's playing back there in my subconscious. How wonderful that we have this gift of song, given to so few creatures on earth.
My OLW for 2024 will be SONG. Songs express a multitude of emotions, rhythms, attitudes, voices, and volumes. I will follow them through the year.
Once upon a time, when women were birds,
there was the simple understanding that
to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk
was to heal the world through joy.
The birds still remember
what we have forgotten,
that the world is meant to be
celebrated.
- Terry Tempest Williams
The above image and verse speak to me strongly. Certainly our world can use healing through joy. Certainly we need reminding. The poem also embraces a myth mentioned in To the Bright Edge of the World by Eowyn Ivey, in which native Alaskan women can change into birds. I highly recommend this book if you have not read it.
My best wishes to all of you for 2024. May you find a song in your heart and a dance in your step.
My thanks to Margaret Simon for supplying us with the beautiful new logo found at the top of this post, and for organizing this group and hosting us this month.
In the middle of wrapping presents and listening to good music, I realized it was time to wish you all a deeply peaceful and joyful Christmas. So... welcome!
The big tree near our front door had to be taken out this year. It was sad to see it go, but a small one now stands in its place. Time will fill it in. Sometimes the best gifts come in small packages, and luckily the size of the package does not limit the amount of hope it carries. Hope soars. Hope radiates at Christmas.
And do you see the star in front of the bush? That star used to top our big tree. I decided it could shine its light where it is, hung on a small metal post. Our new tree isn't ready for it yet, but the star still glows. "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it."
We won't put up a tree this year, but I'm decorating the house with some of my favorite ornaments. Love is at the heart of Christmas, tree or no tree.
For the past several years, the telling of the 1914 truce titled All is Calm on PBS, sung by an extraordinary men's choir, has been one of my Christmas highlights. Watch for it! I recommend it to you wholeheartedly.
My wish for all of you is in the poem below, with my thanks to Linda Mitchell for creating the perfect star for the top of my poet-tree.
This
time of year
presents a mystery
That out of darkness
comes a ray of light...A
time to dream, to gather family
To tell the holy tale of that first night
To hug a child and sing to heart's delight
To feast and laugh and bask in family lore
May all these yuletide blessings find your door.
@Karen Eastlund
2021
It is Poetry Friday, and you can find all the Poetry Friday gang at Jone's... click HERE.