Patchwork Prose and Verse
first the landscape changed ~
two months ago they clear cut this land
harvested the pine trees
I cried for the trees,
for the birds
I’d loved to watch from the front porch
for their nests
for their eggs
for their fledglings
a few remained in the hardwoods,
the usual cast of characters~
cardinals, wrens, finches, pine warblers
my favorite wood thrushes
but then Dad died
and the world changed
This one is for my sister in law, who introduced me to Stella and Grace eye masks. What a treat – they remove wrinkles and under-eye bags. Thank you, Jennifer! I’m using the Zeno form today, a short form that uses rhyming on the single syllable lines and takes the 8,4,2, 1,3,2,1 syllable line count.
just last weekend I learned about
energizing
gold eye
masks
morning calm
peaceful
basks
helpful tip for
one who
asks
A Pantoum poem contains 16 lines and is a recycled line poem using only 8 original lines in this frame of appearance: 1234. 2546. 5768. 7381.
I had a horrific dream
I woke up crying because
Mom was still alive when Dad was dying
and he rejected Mom
I woke up crying because
Dad was coerced by a desperate stranger
and he rejected Mom
for a hand-flapping liar
Dad was coerced by a desperate stranger
he cast aside the love of his life
for a hand-flapping liar
Dad was declared insane
he cast aside the love of his life
Mom was still alive when Dad was dying
Dad was declared insane
I had a horrific dream
Leilya Pitre of Louisiana is our host today for the last day of the June Open Write. You can read her full prompt here. She inspires us to write poems about small acts of kindness. If you’ve ever curated a music playlist on a theme, you know there is excitement in the discovery of related verse – it’s an addictive cognitive hobby. Leilya has done that – curated a group of poems on a theme – and offers several model poems to use as inspiration. She shares these below:
She explains the process and urges us to write an etheree or nonet as our poetry form.
A Gift of Dill Pickle Chip
I slide my dill pickle to the side
a rippled chip, algae-hued green
floppy, salty, puckery
knowing he’s eyeing it,
never having to
ask for this chip
he knows I’ll
offer
it
Tammi Belko of Ohio is our host today for the second day of the June Open Write, inspiring us to write poems about our normalcy. You can read her full prompt here.
Tammi explains the process:
1. Use the word “normal” or another word of your choice.
2. Brainstorm examples or characteristics of that word as they relate to your life or the world around you past or present.
3. Write a poem that defines your chosen word. Your poem may take any form.
Teaching Ideas:
Kim’s Normal Poem
the day normal changed
normal changed on Friday the 13th
the way things do
when Dad drew his last breath
my brother and I
had gone home
for showers and sleep
planning to return
shortly
but shortly came sooner
than we’d thought
and the Hospice nurse
called to tell us
we could come spend time
with him before
she called the funeral home
we walked in to find him
under a scripture-embroidered
bright yellow blanket
wearing his Georgia Bulldogs cap
as if he were taking a nap
right before the game
at perfect peace
with the world
as we exchanged
a knowing look:
it would only be normal
for our quirky dad to
wear his velvet-sleeved
doctoral robe
and ball cap straight
through the pearly gates
***
he brought tears
and laughter as folks
realized: this is so Felix!
Our host today for the first day of the June Open Write is Leilya Pitre of Louisiana. She inspires us to write dictionary poems. You can write read her full prompt here.
She outlines this process for writing a dictionary poem:
Choose a word that may describe you, and then then write your poem as if it were a dictionary entry from your life. Include some or all of the following parts:
What word have you carried? Write your own life-definition poem. You may follow this format closely or bend it to suit you. You may completely disregard the prompt and/or the instructions and write whatever brings you joy today.
Before Dad died, he kept urging us to tap into the serendipitous steering currents of the spirit. He loved words and their sounds and meanings. I’m choosing the word serendipitous today as my dictionary word.
serendipitous (adj.) – a favorite word of Felix Haynes; he referred to the serendipitous steering currents of the spirit – it began mattering in the days leading up to his death when he urged us to watch for things to happen – to unfold in unexpected and divinely inspired ways.
definition – the divineness of the hand that parts waters, lights stars, and moves mountains like in Romans 8:28, making a way where there seems to be no way.
synonym – beneficial
antonym – unfortunate
misuses – planned, controlled, humanly intentional
sentence: Don’t be surprised when the serendipitous steering currents of the spirit sweep in and cause miracles to happen.
Today would have been my parents’ 61st wedding anniversary, but instead we’ll be having a visitation for Dad on the eve of his funeral. Mom has been gone for 10 years, and Dad just wasn’t the same without her. She was the love of his life and the only person who has ever been able to help him manage in a way that made any sense. Small snippets of the past three weeks come rushing back, not as a movie in my head but as a bunch of jagged-edged memories without their proper place on a timeline.
I don’t even know what day it is, which way is up or down, or whether I’m hungry or cold. I’ve lost all sense of the hours, whether I’m up past my bedtime or sleeping at all. My clothes may match – or not. It’s that headspace without a comfort zone, where everything feels numb and you hold on, hoping your facial expressions are all performed appropriately at the right times when you’re among people. The feeling is gone. The grief has set in.
this is where I am:
in the midst of chaos, the
corner of nowhere
Things are starting to hit home, ahead of the funeral on Saturday. Today was a partial reset, in between the day of Dad’s death and the day of the funeral. I feel like I’m just going through the motions on auto-pilot, and I remember this feeling after my mother died. There have been moments I’ve wanted to call and check on him. Then I realize – – I can’t do that anymore.
Today, my brother took Kona, Dad’s dog, to the funeral home to “explain things.” Kona checked him and sat down on his chest with the saddest look of understanding. We wanted her to know that he did not abandon her – – that he died loving her. She has a lovely new family now that will continue to take her to the dog park where she knows the dogs and people there – even though she will always look for the one who will not be returning. We gave her the unlaundered blanket, a gift from Hospice workers, that covered him on his ride from Hospice to the funeral home, and we pray it holds his scent for the rest of her days.
It’s all hitting so hard right now. I wasn’t expecting the numbness quite in this way. There will be some connecting with others who have lost fathers in the coming days. For today, I simply put one foot in front of the other and take breaths, pour coffee, and fold laundry. This is what I can do, and it brings a sense of accomplishment.
grief numbness sets in
after losing my father
is this happening???
The last person to see our father alive who knew him was Nick Doster.
My brother Ken and I had been trying to keep vigil next to Dad’s bedside so that he didn’t die alone in a room, but the hospice nurse urged us to go take showers and grab an hour or so of sleep when we’d become too exhausted. Some patients look for those moments to die alone, preferring not to have loved ones near in their final moments, she’d assured us. We knew the time was close, too, because just that afternoon Dad had begun the conversations with the others not of this world, but with whom he was having undeterminable conversations and for whom he was reaching.
Nick Doster and Dad had traveled to Wrigley Field in Chicago to see the Cubs play several years back, and shared a deep love of all things sports. So it was no surprise that when Nick showed up in the remaining hours of Dad’s life with a red Georgia Bulldogs hat, Dad found strength for an appreciative smile.
Imagine our bittersweet sadness when the call came at 4 a.m. that Dad had passed. We felt the grief of the loss and the joy of the release of all pain and suffering from this earthly realm into the Heaven he preached about all his life. Now. Imagine us walking into that Hospice room to spend time prior to the funeral home coming for the body.
Take all the time you need, the hospice nurse offered.
Imagine us opening that wide door one last time and looking at the bed, only to see a bright yellow blanket embroidered with Psalm 119:76 in black stitching on one corner covering Dad’s body – the sunshine of Heaven. And imagine a face at total peace, no wires or tubes protruding, no oxygen machine droning, the red hat still on his head against the stark white of the pillow.
My brother and I agreed – – he wears the hat to Heaven. We know it will be the perfect complement to his black doctoral robe with the velvet on the sleeves and the red piping. Above all, we know it will bring smiles to those who will come for visitation to see that Dad, ever the champion of going as far as one can go with education and cheering as strong as one can cheer for the Georgia Bulldogs, can still cause a stirring of hearts.
Imagine the grief
Imagine the laughter
Imagine the joy
one green pepper
one red pepper
one onion
one sirloin steak
one squirt of olive oil
one dash of salt
one pinch of pepper
two forks
two plates
two hearty appetites
three dogs awaiting a scrap
Common Threads 