Common Threads

Today I am writing through the Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com, where our host encouraged us to write Picture Book Poems.

My favorite picture book as a child was Tibor Gergely’s Great Big Book of Bedtime Stories, but the one story I loved more than any other was A Day in the Jungle by Janette Lowrey. My mother read it to me over and over, and I think back on this story about the fear that rises in a group and how so many of our fears mount unnecessarily. You can read it here: https://youtu.be/J5jrBfsHGA0

No Fear

There was no monster
howling and shrieking with rage
~just a friendly owl.

Today at http://www.ethicalela.com, Susan Ahlbrand is our host at the Open Write. She encouraged us to write palindrome poems, or mirror poems that use a forward and back pattern. I chose sleep. After having Covid, it takes a long time to shake the fatigue. All I want to do lately is sleep.

morning, wakening

naptime, midday siesta

bedtime: dreams ahead

Today at http://www.ethicalela.com, Susan Ahlbrand is our host of the Open Write. She encouraged us to write a poem to something about which we are passionate as our poem today.

Dear travel, you keep

me looking forward to our

next planned rendezvous!

Rockport last fall break

Salem witches, Gloucester whales

hopeless wanderlust…..

San Antonio

and Texas Hill Country this

break……where to next? -Kim

Glenda Funk, a February host at http://www.ethicalela.com’s Open Write, inspired us to write Kitchen Ghost poems, inspired by her own reading of Crystal Wilkinson’s poetry. Today, I write this poem in memory of my oldest living aunt, Jeanie Haynes, who died on February 2, 2022 at the age if 95.. She drank Dr. Pepper and loved her family!

Kitchen Ghostangels

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord

Sometimes when I open the recipe box, the ghostangels march out to the

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored

strains of How Firm a Foundation and In the Garden, and I’m taken back

He has loosed the fateful lightening of His terrible swift sword

to the caramel and chocolate layer cakes hidden beneath the dented

His truth is marching on

silver metal cake cover to those kitchens in South Georgia where my ancestors

Glory, glory, Hallelujah…..Glory, glory, Hallelujah…….Glory, glory, Hallelujah

cooked chickens alive that morning and baked cakes with fresh-fallen pecans and

His truth is marching on …..

rolled red and green candied fruit in flour to put into our Christmas fruitcakes and

In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born across the sea

sometimes I think of those dishes with the Cherokee Rose pattern along the edges

with a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me

that once stood in the cabinet with all that carnival glass and milk glass some of which

as He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free

now lives here with me as I wonder about its next stop and sometimes I open an ice

His truth is marching on

cream sandwich and think of the time I ran past Meema to the freezer without hugging her

Glory, glory, Hallelujah

hello first and how that didn’t end well at all and somewhere in all of this, I know

Glory, glory, Hallelujah

they are still strong spirits who come at will and find their way back to Heaven through

Glory, glory, Hallelujah

their own timewrinkled handwriting on the cards in my recipe box

His truth is marching on…..

Today, Glenda Funk has inspired us to write Pedagogy Poems as part of the Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com.

Pedagogical Travel

Pedagogical 

leanings take us places to

see the world, to know

Geographical 

footholds (On Clouds, size 7)

bring flat maps to life! 

Cultural studies  

immerse us in food, music

art, literature 

Philosophical 

beliefs propel wanderlust 

to explore the world 

Political lines 

fade, humanitarian 

connections strengthen

Kaleidoscopes of

understanding that far is

near, that there is here 

Pedagogical 

travel viewpoints empower 

experiencers 

Trailblazing footprints 

discovering difference

is conceptual 

Natural light

diffused through a window

is not a good lunch date.

A friend double-took a

look at my lip line,

so I daubed my mouth –

saw no napkin stain.

She did it again.

I found a

wayward whisker

(okay, a couple)

to pluck when

I got back

to the office.

We swapped seats

next time – my back

was to the glass,

and I saw

good reason

to keep that seat.

I came home

from work and

tossed my own can of

Pearlessence Bombshell

that absorbs impurities

while adding next-day

texture and volume,

now firmly resolute that

my dry shampoo days

are over.

So much

is seen

in a certain

slant of light.

Sharing their stories

Offering hope for miracles

God is still at work

They’ve known deep trenches,

dark alleys, places of doom

They know there is light

They know there is hope

When all seemed hopeless, God worked

miracles in them

This week’s topic on sharingourstoriesmagic.com is quiet. The golden silence sets the tone of the day for me. No radio, no tv…..medicinal space for reflecting and writing. Solitude. Peace. Stillness. Coffee.
Thanks to Slice of Life and SOS for giving writers space and voice!

Quiet

the whirr of the fan 

faint hum of the fridge

     quaint strum of the heat

whispery paper turning a page

  flutter of leaves 

      on trees 

           in the breeze 

hush of misty

soapy shower steam 

a snore of a snoozer

  a schnoodle, asleep 

the peace of the house 

   without any stirring 

save for one spoon 

   in the coffee I’m swirling 

morning solitude savored, fleeting

moments of peace 

……..before workday greetings

rustic cabin window shelf

Mason jar blush bouquet

faintly perfuming the air with

springtime memories

of carefree days

walking barefoot

through grassy meadows

to a snow-quilted picnic knoll

blanket of sunshine

draping shoulders

drifting off to youthful adventures

on distant hills

sledding in a red coat

waking to yellow butterflies

Japanese cherry blossoms

and bluebirds