Patchwork Prose and Verse
Countryside Charms
daffodil daybreaks rouse meadow-mist eyes
bluebird sings blessings with praise-reverent cries
daylily sunbursts coax seedlings to rise
paint carpets of clover in emerald surprise
marigold sunsets kiss rolling hill skies
lift sweet bedtime prayers on wings of fireflies
As I move through the challenge of writing a poem a day for a year, I’m trying different forms and experimenting. Today, my poem for The Stafford Challenge is a luc-bat, a Vietnamese poetry form that alternates six and eight syllables with internal and end rhyme scheme. I refinished my late grandmother’s table recently, and I often think about all the family members who have ever sat at this table – and all the stories told here. I wonder, sometimes, whether family members in Heaven get passes to visit and check on the living. And whether there is a kitchen full of spirits listening in, checking on us to see what we’re doing.
I hope so!
Family Gatherings
table transformation
for our congregation of folks
family pride evokes
stories build laughs and jokes from past
so those long gone will last through time
ancestors living ~prime of life
conjured husband and wife ~spirits
pasts with presents - - its future
gatherings to endure ages
Sunday was a day well-spent! We watched my dad preach in my childhood church via YouTube, and I texted my brother and his fiancee to check on them as they travel to New Orleans for the week. We had breakfast with our schnoodles by the fire, and then I painted 18 canvases to dress the Chamber of Commerce windows for National Poetry Month. Finally, we had a wonderful Zoom gathering arranged by Lainie Levin to meet other slicers face to face and enjoy conversation.
Part of my role in my school system is to oversee the L4GA Literacy grant, which offers funding for literacy events in the community. National Poetry Month is a fabulous time to plan some Open Mic nights, author poetry readings, and writing workshops. Last year, we created a progressive poetry walk around our town square, featuring a local poet’s poem he’d written about our rural town to the theme of Bloom!
For this year’s theme, Awakenings (our local Arts Council chose this year’s theme), we’re switching from a progressive poetry walk to a window dressing, thanks to our sensational Chamber of Commerce team, who has agreed to allow us to decorate the windows as a town square feature this year. These canvases will have poetry written on them in black letters.
If you are looking for a slice topic sometime this week and enjoy writing poetry, I would love to have some short poems (4-6 lines) on the theme of Awakenings. I’m curating a collection of poems on this theme by living poets to feature in our window. Some will be local poets who share readings in our coffee shop, while others will be from right here in the Slice of Life or another writing group….maybe you! I’ll change them out from week to week, so if yours is featured, I’ll share a photo of your poem on display sometime at the end of May on a Tuesday slicing day. You can add your poem in the comments on any day of my blog throughout March.
I’m sharing our palette color scheme below.
Poetry Invitation Elfchen
painting
bright canvases
National Poetry Month
local business window dressings
~ awakenings ~
Our three schnoodles aren’t spoiled, but they do expect a hand-fed breakfast every morning, so my husband gives them bites of graham crackers or Teddy Grahams. As they were sitting by the fire on Sunday morning having their royal feast, I wondered about the origins of graham crackers. I was thinking that perhaps since the Huitain is a French form of poetry and poodles are a German breed but are the national dog of France, then maybe if the crackers were of French origin, I could work all of that into a poem and serve it up like a fresh-baked croissant, all buttery and warm.
It was not to be.
I learned more about graham crackers than I should know.
The crackers do not have French origins, and they were not invented to feed little dogs a healthy breakfast snack. They were invented by a preacher, Reverend Graham, who baked them to dissuade physical affection. I got quite an eye-opening education about these seemingly innocent little wafers. Who knew?
Huitain Graham Cracker Purity
three schnoodles when hungry like graham squares
breakfast with Dad inspired Mom to inquire
to see where they started, these squares and bears
***
oh my! a sermon: brimstone and hellfire!
to repress our deepest carnal desire
crackers were baked to dissuade our urges
to keep us out of the funeral pyre
***
stay dressed! eat crackers! say NO to merges!
The earth laughs in flowers. - Ralph Waldo Emerson
Today’s poem is a triolet, inspired by Barb Edler’s post yesterday. Before Barb’s mother died, she planted daffodils, and these are Barb’s favorite flowers. I, too, lost my mother (December 2015) and miss her very much – my mother’ s favorites were wild petunias and yellow roses. When I need to count blessings and decompress, I take my keys off the hook by the door and start up my little blue Caribbean RAV4 and go riding the country roads. I look for the blooms, the rolling hills, the hawks on wires, the cows in the meadows. It puts the world back in perspective for me – – I am here but for a blink of an eye, and whatever is worrying me, too, shall pass.
Today, let’s remember our mothers who have gone before us but who still wave to us in flowers! We still see you, Moms! #flowerhugs
Daffodil Swing Choir Triolet
countryside daffodils dance and smile
their friendly welcoming rural hellos
across hills and meadows, mile after mile
countryside daffodils dance and smile
swaying in their swing choir style
robed in greens and sunshine yellows
countryside daffodils dance and smile
their friendly welcoming rural hellos
Earlier this week, I was drawn to a post by Denise Krebs, who shared her tea latte as a jumpstart to her hiking day. She inspired me to visit my local coffee shop, where they made me an oat milk tea latte. It was divine! Thank you, Denise, for introducing me to this new favorite!
Tea Latte Sonnet
I heard it from a friend so dear
perfect jumpstart: tea latte
(it looks a lot like heady beer)
what a way to start the day!
stopped by the local coffee shop
ordered a lavender, dairy-free
beamed as the oat milk bubbled atop
eagerly sipped my first taste of tea
I’m sending Denise a cross-country high-five
certain I’ve found a new favorite drink
to help me hike mountains awake and alive
I’m raising a toast with cheers ~ and a wink
at first glance, it looks like this drink is naugh-tay
……..
Wait….could I get fired drinking frothy tea latte?!
I love to go wandering through the paint sample section of a store. I sometimes bring a fabric swatch with me to look legit, like a real painter who knows exactly what she’s doing.
Truth is, I’m a paint chip thief, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I have no remorse over any of it.
I look for the best-named paints and pocket the chips. They’re free, but this isn’t why they are the best deal in the entire store.
The names of the colors are pure gold. Even though I bought a set of Paint Chip Poetry words a few years ago with enough chips to last me a lifetime, I can’t just saunter past the paint aisle without challenging myself to a short poem using a named color when it’s there for the choosing and word-amusing.
I chip-lifted Stargazer on a recent trip to WalMart, and I went a wee bit alliterative with a paint chip elfchen poem.
Today’s poem is a random line poem, constructed from a line heard or read randomly. My husband is an NCIS fan, and he’s in season 20. I’m usually reading or writing when he’s watching his show. I heard Kasey say she was going to drink a ginger ale (a drink I don’t think she likes). I jotted it down and wrote this random line poem.
Secrets
I'm telling secrets~
I'll give it all (everything)
especially that tacky lamp
~drink a ginger ale
feel the stomach knots untie~
to release the past
these misplaced values
that stood in the way
of your being
there
I’m borrowing a line or two from Lucille Clifton today, from her book Quilting: Poems 1987-1990, to write a borrowed line poem. This line in italics is from her poem “eyes”:
I could say so much to you
if you could understand me
Resyntaxed Semantics
I could say so much to you
if you could understand me
but the mixmaster
spun the vinyl
resyntaxed
semantics
now
I'm the one
who doesn't
recognize
the tune
I once knew
the original
lyrics
of
y
o
u
Vertigo runs on both sides of my family, particularly my father’s. They say it’s caused by crystals forming in the inner ear, and I’ve employed the Epley Maneuver with a mild degree of relief on a few occasions. I usually have a debilitating case of vertigo strike, on average, twice a year so bad that I don’t walk or drive. I never know exactly when it is coming, but I often feel it building and know immediately on waking that it’s here for the day, until I sleep it off through a full night. There is no silver lining in it, either. It’s not the type of sick day where reading a book by the fire or taking the dogs out for a quick walk or doing a load of laundry can happen. I can only close my eyes, rest my head, stay still in bed (with a small trashcan within reach) where I’m safe from falling. I thought I felt a vertigo visit building early last week (the left eye pressure happens), but it never manifested itself full force, thank goodness. My gratitude that it did not come calling inspired today’s poem – a sonnet.
Vertigo Sonnet
on mornings of verge-of-vertigo
when all the world's a tiny boat
I go into chupacabra mode
(just not the kind that blood-sucks goats)
the world's on edge~ my left eye throbs~
this mystic creature no one sees
my dizzied nausea sunshine robs
flailing T-rex arms, buckling camel knees
it starts up in the corner ceiling
my room's a whoosh of tilts and spins
an onset of a monstrous feeling
this day's a wash before it begins
only one way back to life: go through
float this dinghy 'til day is new
Common Threads 