September 2023 Poetry Marathon Day 1 of 5

Today, Stacey Joy of California is our host for the September Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. She is inspiring us to write odes today. I took inspiration from her poem and from Amy Van DerWater’s Dear Socks in writing an ode to the memories of my mother through the ways she still comes to me when I am missing her.

From Saturday through Wednesday, I will post the daily writing along with several other poems that were written during the poetry marathon I began yesterday morning at 8:00 a.m.. It ends at 8:00 this morning, and will contain one poem written each hour since then either by a friend/family member or by me. (Okay, I slept the night, but I wrote ahead and behind those hours of sleep because…..my meanness might have kicked in).

I’ll begin with today’s poem, written in the 6 a.m. hour, September 16, 2023: ODE – a poem of praise, often written directly to someone or something.

Memories of Miriam ~ An Ode – a poem of praise, often directly to a person or object

Dear Mom,
you come to me
in the missing
with tingly spots that
turn warm
in the heart,
help me exhale~ my
fingers circling my temples
bringing back
all the whens

of this Bernina
your fingers guiding
mine under the
foot, stitch by stitch
learning to sew
a lime green terrycloth
bathcover, now
sewing quilts
for your great grands
on your fine
Swiss machine

of hawks,
talons clutching wires
checking that
my seatbelt
is fastened
as I drive past,
shaking your pointing finger
if I forgot,
knowing that
whatever I’m
thinking at
that moment,
you’re there
in it

of strawberry figs,
last summer wave
just picked, my own
weakening fingers twisting
tender fruits free ~
canned this very
week, Mason jars
sealed tight
with summer’s
sweetened warmth
for coming winter

of spiced Russian tea,
the Tangy orange
and lemonade mixed
with clove, sugar
cinnamon and tea ~
a medicinal brush
of your invisible fingers
through my hair
in sore throat season

of rippled milkglass
with resurrection fern
springing to life
unfurling its brown
dry fingers
into open arms
green again

September 15, 2023 – The Kickoff – 8 a.m. hour – Kim Johnson

Haiku – a poem with three lines and seventeen syllables in 5/7/5 syllabicated lines

My Stir Stick

deep in the forest

a tiny tree takes root

reaches to sunlight

growing tall, falling

with a thud, destined to be

my coffee stir stick

September 15, 2023 – 9 a.m. hour – my son Marshall Meyer – Gogyoshi (a 5-line poem on any topic, and Marshall wrote two back to back gogyoshis, connected, about a recent fishing experience….and he wrote this within a half hour of when I requested a poem, which is what a poetry marathon experience is about – – birthing poetry meaningfully in a few intentional moments throughout the day). I’m so proud of him!

The experience is like no

other. The stalk and hunt is

on, wind and direction

matter. I’m in shin deep

water and the reds can feel

all vibrations.

Concentration is at an all

time high. Cast. The feel of

the exploding strike is like 

no other. 

September 15, 2023 – 10 a.m. hour – Found Poem by Kim Johnson – a Found Poem is a poem that is written by finding words on an existing page of print, lifting them out to stand alone as a poem.  This one is taken from The Outsiders.

A Silent Moment

dawn mist

golden

gray to pink

a silent moment:

paint,

fresh in my mind,

like

nature’s flower; 

down to day…

nothing can stay

September 15, 2023 – 11 a.m. hour – Jenga Poem – Kim Johnson

I let my son’s 9:00 poem inspire a title I found on a Jenga block and wrote this poem from the word blocks in my collection.  To write a Jenga poem, select blocks and arrange them into a poem of words that stand alone or words that inspire lines mixed with your own words. 

Casting a Line

choose your own

hopes for the future ~

murals unveiled:

ending or new beginning?

inspiring

another chance at life

every precious “breath” 

how we have chosen

race against time

September 15, 2023 – Noon hour  – Kim Johnson

Skinny – a poem with 11 lines, where first and last line repeat similarly in small number of words, and the rest of the lines have one word.  Lines 2, 6, and 10 use the same word.

Owl

owl swoops down

gracefully

without

a

sound

gracefully 

to 

forest

ground

gracefully

owl swoops down

Celebrating a Birthday at Gibbs Gardens and Jaemor Farms

Yesterday was my sister-in-law’s birthday, so we loaded up the family and drive to Ball Ground, Georgia for a lovely day at Gibbs Gardens. The fall festivals all over North Georgia are just beginning in their early season, so we saw splendid late summer blooms as we strolled through the grounds and admired the first peeks of pumpkins along the roads.

We even saw a water snake enjoying a nap on the grassy bank of the creek that runs through the gardens!

After lunch, we headed to Jaemor Farms for some apples and peaches. Today, we will be making apple butter, spiced apples, and peach marmalade, so we drove to the best place in Georgia to get those fresh ingredients! Seeing the pumpkins lined up and ready to decorate front porches and front yards spiked my pumpkin spice fever for the cooler weather.

Tune in tomorrow for the Kitchen Canning Episodes of the women of the Johnson Funny Farm in rural Georgia. We can’t wait to make a mess in our kitchens today! We’ll be jockeying back and forth from her farmhouse to mine as apple butter simmers in one and peach marmalade sweetens the air in the other.

But the most preserves we’ll make are the memories.

Here is the bloom calendar for the year from Gibbs Gardens. You can also see the bloom report on their website.

I’m closing today with a few pictures from our stroll through the gardens – – including an uphill walk to see the Manor House. Our moutainous climb to see this beautiful home and see the view from the top reminded us that we should have brought ibuprofen for the sore muscles and aches after such a lofty achievement.

The Manor House at Gibbs Gardens

Limon Buffett

I’ve been reading Ada Limon’s poetry lately, and with the death of Jimmy Buffet yesterday, I’ve been blending poetry and thought and music together in a grief vortex as I sit on my Labor Day campsite by the lake in Georgia. Limon’s poem “Anticipation” inspired my use of her format for today’s Buffet thoughts.

I Don’t Know

…. before the strawberry
Aguas Frescas,
before the dog fight
next door,
when the black dragonfly
flashed its gossamer
wings, preening 
in the sun 
teasing a mate,
I was 
humming Buffet,
lost in Margaritaville
~ ooh, Jolly Mon sing,
oooh, make Orion ring~
fins to the left,
   fins to the right,
wondering where 
I’m a gonna go
when the volcano
blows….

Monthly Goal Update

At the end of each month, (or beginning), I review my yearly goals and spend some time reflecting on how I’m doing in living the life I want to live ~ a way of becoming my own accountability partner and having frequent check-ins to evaluate my progress. I’m still in the process of revising some of my goals as I encounter successes…..and setbacks. New goals have asterisks for the month of September, when I will report on them in a few weeks. For the month of August here’s my goal reflection:

CategoryGoalsMy Progress
LiteratureRead for Sarah Donovan’s Book Group





Send out Postcards




Blog Daily

Write at least 2 chapters for
writing group’s book
I participated in the August book discussion with Sarah’s reading group and am almost finished with the September book – Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi. I’ll participate in this book discussion on September 17th.

I haven’t sent out any postcards this month, but I visited in person to meet my newest granddaughter.

I continue to blog daily, and the daily writing and reflecting is a wonderful habit for me. I don’t feel complete without some form of daily writing, and the blog is a way of continuing the habit.

My writing group is writing a series of new books, and I will spend time editing the chapters we have written. I will continue to add chapters as we receive feedback from our proposals. This is a work in progress, but I have only edited this month and not written any new chapters. I edited based on feedback from Anna Roseboro, a well-published member of our group.
Creativity

*Make a rag quilt for a new grandbaby

*Create Shutterfly Route 66


I have a new granddaughter, and I’ve finished the rag quilt with the Nana tag on it. I’ll include a photo at the bottom of this post.

I created a video, but I didn’t accomplish this goal, so I’ll continue this one: I’ll create a canvas or two, along with a photo book using our Route 66 photos! Update: I still haven’t accomplished this goal. I need to get busy in Shutterfly.
SpiritualityTune in to church



Pray!



Keep OLW priority
We have been tuning in to church. With Dad preaching every Sunday in October and a few Sundays ahead of that, it makes the church home hunt take a back seat until my childhood church gets a new preacher, since I have the opportunity to hear Dad.

My car is still my prayer chamber for daily prayer, and there’s so much to give thanks for. I continue my conversations with the good Lord each morning and afternoon.

I’m still keeping my OLW my priority: pray!
ReflectionWrite family stories

Spend time tracking goals each month
I have shared family stories through my blog this month and will continue this month to do the same.

I’m tracking goals, revising, and considering some new categories as I look at my goal table.
Self-Improvement*Reach top of weight rangeThis is a setback for me this month. I’ve hit major stress and gained weight, despite joining WW. I need to set a firm date and get the mental mindset that it takes to stay on track. I have work to do.
GratitudeDevote blog days to counting blessingsGratitude needs more time in September. I need to devote time to Sarah Ban Breathnach’s Gratitude Journal readings. I get busy and forget to truly commit time to thanking the Good Lord for all the blessings, even though I am grateful. Remembering to thank Him, while I do this in prayer, needs more emphasis in the moments of walking on the farm or driving through the beautiful countryside at sunset.
ExperienceEmbrace Slow Travel

Focus on the Outdoors
I’ve taken a trip in August to see the baby and now am finishing the month in Athens on a business trip. Both fast. Not slow and lingering as I would like. September will take us camping and possibly to visit a daughter, and I hope that we can slow down on those trips.

I’m still focusing on the outdoors with birdwatching adventures and camping. It’s the best time of the day to sit outside on the porch (in the shade) and just listen and watch what is going on around us. We have seen the owl several times this month.

The Conference Getaway

When I bring out my small suitcase I use for overnight conferences, my dogs all know I’m leaving. They know I’m going to shower them with love and treats after I load the car, but that’s not what’s important to them at the moment.

Boo Radley takes to the laundry room and sulks on his blanket by the window. (Later, my husband will text me with a photo of him staring down the driveway for my electric blue RAV-4, holding out hope I’ll be back before nightfall – – and he won’t come in until he’s picked up and brought inside). Ollie flattens out on the floor, chin to the ground and legs splayed parallel on both sides like an unstuffed animal in random places that make no sense.

But Fitz, my soul dog, gets clingy like a toddler suffering from severe separation anxiety. This baby actually whines, as if trying to convince me not to go.

“You’re leaving. I don’t want you to leave. Don’t go. Stay home.”

On these mornings when I settle in to try to write before I leave town, Fitz won’t stand for it. He gets between the computer and me and refuses to budge. This morning, he came clear over the coffee table between our chairs and wedged his way in between my keyboard and me.

I have to stop what I am doing to make time for my sweet boy, and remember that while he is a big part of my world, I’m his entire world. I have to reassure him again and again and again and again and again that I will be back. With yet another treat.

I look into his searching eyes that are begging me to change my mind. I tussle his ears and plant a kiss between his eyes.

“I’ve got to go out and earn a living, your Highness,” I remind him, “to take care of you three spoiled rotten Schnoodles who have become accustomed to all your treat expectations.”

This doesn’t humor him at all. It’s a very sad day here, and Fitz would like everyone to take a moment today to feel sorry for him. He’d like everyone reading this to please spend extra time with your dogs today, to give them treats and plenty of love, and to tell them that there are actual dogs out there whose people leave them for a day or two, and it’s just not right.

Hummingbird Heartstrings

it's that same feeling
I get when
my children
and grandchildren
are about to leave
for home
four hours south

they're packing bags
loading their car
stripping beds
washing towels

double-checking 
for toothbrushes
under beds for  little things 
easily left behind
like tiny dinosaurs 
wayward doll shoes
lone socks

I dread 
the tail lights
heading down 
our driveway

those I love rolling away

this morning's
stirring
is not unlike 
this feeling~
already missing family
before they leave ~
as I watch 
my hummingbirds
remnants 
of a charm
heading south
on their long journey
for winter

no wee suitcases
no teeny toothbrushes
no sippy snacks for the road

but departing nonetheless
traveling lightly

I want to hug them
tell them to be safe

tell them I'll fix their favorite
nectar next spring
even weed the lantana

August Open Write with Wendy Everand

Wendy Everand is our host today for the August Open Write, and she inspires us to write odes to our favorite poets. You can read her full prompt here.

This brought to mind the first poet I ever knew. We lived next door to a retired school teacher in Reynolds, Georgia, and one day I got loose and barged into her house (no one locked their doors in that town back then)…..and the rest is history. After she died, two of her granddaughters compiled a collection of her poems, and I got a copy as a gift. I still believe that she pulled my poetry strings out and brushed them…..maybe even crocheted them.

Ode to Mabel G. Byrd (December 10, 1900-1/20/1987)

Mama Byrd’s poems
mainly quatrains
ABCB rhyme scheme
Crafting 4-line verse veins

Born in 1900, Taylor County
Little Sweet Georgia Peach
Died 1987, Taylor County
Lived her life to write and teach

I barged right in, in ‘69
(She was 69, I was 3)
I still remember visiting
Listening to poems at her knee

She went blind
But still knew color schemes
She’d crochet blankets as gifts for folks
In gilded yarns, bright blues, and creams

She still wrote, even blind
Poems were her favorite forms
And when I read her words today,
Time turns back, my heart warms

In 1987, I went for one last visit
Dad and I, next to her bedside
Told me she’d meet me at Heaven’s Gate
About a month before she died.

The very first poet I ever knew
Still speaks to me today
In rose gardens and peach blossoms
…..and in Granny Square crochet.  

Welcome to the World, Noli Mae!


Today, our host at http://www.ethicalela.com for Day 1 of the August Open Write inspires us to write poems about hands. Denise Krebs of California is hosting today’s writing. You can read her full prompt here.

Welcoming Magnolia Mae

yesterday, these hands
gripped handlebars, holding on
for the ride with friends

yesterday, these hands
swaddled babies, bandaged knees
as children grew up

yesterday, these hands
stitched a quilt for a grandchild
I will meet today

for today, these hands
will build Legos and fairy
gardens first, and then…..

today, these hands will
swaddle a new granddaughter
in rosettes and sage

so that tomorrow,
these hands will be remembered
this heart full of love

Sunday Morning on the Johnson Funny Farm

Aside from the usual blasts of neighbors’ target practice gunfire and tannerite explosions just to light up the Pike County Discussion Page at 8:00 on any given Sunday morning, the planes from the local airport flying low and the jets flying high along the flight path above the farm from the Atlanta Airport, and the roosters excited to see the sunrise after the long, dark night, the sweet notes of birdsong from the branches of the Loblolly pines brings peace and serenity.


One of our deer families has learned how to enter and exit the old goat pen, where they feast on breakfast and enjoy a little more security and thus a more relaxed dining experience than they normally have, especially with their little ones.

The white-breasted nuthatches laugh like evil circus clowns with their white-painted faces as they climb up and down the suet trees and keep watch while they eat.

And the hummingbirds engage in full-body air jousting squabbles over the sweet nectar at every feeder.

What I love most about my birdwatching time, despite all the best reasons I’d sometimes love a noise ordinance in our county, is that all deadlines and demands are on hold while I sip my morning coffee, never knowing what I’ll see or hear next.

This is wildlife as I’ve come to know it.