You know this could be you, right? You, too, could Be buffeted by winds and beat up By trees and cars and birds and kids. Life could happen to you in Mean ways. Your student debt Insurmountable When medical Expenses Overtake You. Bank Account Empty. Cards Maxed. Marriage bro- Ken. A move. All the Degrees in the world can’t Float you high enough to miss All the brutality of life. That fatal heart attack was mercy. Don’t judge. Don’t judge. Don’t judge. This could be you.
This was the prompt from Sadje’s WhatDoYouSee? post this week.
This week, in sorting through papers, I came across a box of unopened mail from my brother’s apartment when we cleaned it out after he died from a heart attack nine years ago. Most of it was bills and debt collections notices. Yes, depressing.
High on a telephone pole, your aerie was built Stick by stick plucked from the ground and flown clumsily To its new home with a view – where you can spot prey A mouse or vole or rabbit, and scream from on high
I’ve been watching this nest while it is being built.
The Tanka Tuesday prompt was to write a Imayo about a bird. An imayo has four lines, each line 12 syllables, but divided into two sections: 7 syllables and then 5 syllables. This is my attempt.
In Eighteen Ninety-four Great-grandmother Pedersen arrived In the United States From Denmark with three dollars And four children under the age Of seven to join her husband who Was a tailor working outside Boston
Her super-power: hospitality Her home became a hub where Danish Women gathered to drink coffee And converse with each other Without all the mental Gymnastics that go With translation They relaxed And smiled [sigh]
My Mother Received that Super-power Hosting dinners and Welcoming newcomers And people in need to our Home, church, and the community She made it look so very easy I thought I had missed that DNA
One day I was sitting at my desk when A person peeked around the corner “Can I talk to you?” he asked me “Of course,” I said, so he came In the office and told Me a small story A wee sliver Of something That was large
I sat and I listened To his words, awed That he had chosen Me to share his thoughts with One day a woman sat down With me and she started to cry She told a wee sliver of her story And I listened, gently holding her tale
They come. I listen. So many people Some sad, some angry, some joyful, some tired They all share different stories “You should get paid for this,” One man said to me He doesn’t know It is my Super- Pow’r
This is a double etheree times three. Does that make is a sextuple etheree?
An etheree is a syllabic poem — 10 lines with syllable counts 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10. A double etheree has 10 more lines, counting back down 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.
For the record, I work at a gym and when I’m in the office, I sell memberships.
Write a Shadorma of a minimum of 2 stanzas on the topic of strength (physical, emotional, mental, ethical, or of character…)
A shadorma is a poem comprised of six-line stanzas with a syllable count of three syllables in the first line, five in the second, three in the third and fourth lines, seven in the fifth, and five in the sixth.
This is also in response to a situation at work, where I chose not to immediately lambast the person who had caused the problem. I literally vacuumed my office and then sat for a few minutes before tackling the issue that needed to be dealt with.
The lesson for me (and maybe for you, too) — when frustrated and angry, it’s important to take a little time.
Yoga class: “Take a deep breath in” My lungs fill, inhaling slowly The act of breathing is so holy Inhale, exhale; there, time begins
Or does it stop? Air held within Bronchial ducts, alveoli Yoga class, restorative Yin Lungs empty, exhaling slowly
Peace settles where tension has been I engage mind-body wholly On the floor, time passes slowly Meditative haze, then again – Yoga class: “Take a deep breath in” My lungs fill, inhaling slowly
Write a sonnet or any other 14-line poem about “The concept of time and how it affects our lives.”
Side note from me: I got the 14 line part right and I said something about time. Does that count?
This is also my attempt at a Rondel. Lines 1-2 were supposed to be repeated at 7-8 and again at 13-14. I took a few liberties at the 7-8 version. I figure that I’m fairly new at these forms and can cut myself a little slack.
Yes, I am rooted, but a tree? Hmm… let me see I am Ash
A baseball bat That can Smash
New ideas In a Flash
Remember the days of Buzzfeed quizzes?
Maybe they still exist, but I’m off Facebook and make only sporadic appearances on other social media. I no longer daily try to find out what Disney princess I am, or type of pizza, or variety of apple.
I think I’ve become more interested in real-life-me than Buzzfeed-me.
So when the Tanka Tuesday prompt was my spirit animal (see: Turtle), I almost didn’t do it. I’m glad I did. I learned that I am, in fact, very turtle-y.
This week, they asked what tree I am.
For what it’s worth, I am an Ash Tree. The stuff of baseball bats, hockey sticks, doors, floors, and stair treads.
Tough, yet flexible — maybe.
Enchanting? Hahahaha – no.
But there are few things I love more than smashing a new idea into a home run.
You wish to wed my daughter, lad? You’re not the first to ask! I challenge you to prove your worth By performing one small task —
’Tis straightforward but quite hard (She’s my most precious bairn) To win her you must bring to me The red bird of Raigmore Cairn
The wee red bird, with magic song, And feathers ruby red Elusive as the unicorn And more powerful, it’s said.
So I set off on this my quest To far-off Raigmore Cairn I battled dragons, dodged wizard’s spells, My true love’s hand to earn
I rescued maidens trapped in towers Hunted mighty stags And on my journey shared my wealth With beggars dressed in rags.
At Raigmore Cairn, I searched and searched But could not find the bird My spirit low, I knelt and wept When suddenly I heard The sweetest song that filled my soul ’twas Raigmore Cairn’s wee bird
By now, you’re getting bored, I’m sure With this drivel-twaddle-tale Let me skip up to the point At which I finally fail
I caught the bird, I rode back home Fought dragons along the way Rescued maidens, hunted stags Blah-blah blah-blah blay
My true love’s castle rose into view The red bird sang a hymn! Until I saw the water there — Alas! I cannot swim!
There are many things that I would do To win my true love’s hand But there’s just one contingency I must stay dry on land!
the wee red bird of Raigmore Cairn
Actually, this is a close up a mosaic mural I saw in Virginia.
Do I really need to tell you that there is no wee red bird of Raigmore Cairn? I mean, there really is a place called Raigmore Cairn. Here’s a pic:
But I’ve never been there and know nothing about it.
All I could think when I saw that picture was about a knight who overcame all sorts of challenges on a quest but then couldn’t cross the final water obstacle.
Hot Dogs and Marmalade 