with thanks to Kim Johnson for this invitation on Ethical ELA’s Open Write Today: “The interplay between the title and one word can provide context, illumination, and clarification, emphasizing the importance of title in poetry. The title can be as long as you wish. Write a one-word poem.”
Here goes…
Of Stars, Songs, Baby Granddaughters Learning to Talk, and the Devotion in a Dog’s Eyes
Infinity
with thanks to Kim Johnson for the inspiration on Ethical ELA’s Open Write today. Kim offers the monostitch form: “a strong sense of connection between a title and a poem of one line inspires the writer to consider the relationship between the title and the word.”
And so I share an observation from today…
Heaven’s So Near
Little girl sings The cattle are lowing…preacher-Grandpa’s face is streaked with tears.
Here’s a two-line version, for good measure:
Heaven is Near
Little girl plays in the floor, singing so pure, so clear: The cattle are lowing…
Preacher-man Grandpa rests in his recliner, listening, face streaked with tears.
A daily Band-Aid
cannot stop a hemorrhage
of blood nor spirit
Why such head-scratching
when sustainability
is an afterthought?
Familiar cheeping
at dusk, out on the front porch
-can it really be?
Opening the door
a fluttering of feathered wings
-the finches remain?
Should I be so blessed?
I shall need to buy some seed
for the frost has come.
House Finch with Goldfinch. beaucon. CC BY-NC 2.0.
House finches are regular nesters in my front door wreath from Eastertime through the summer; I have not been aware of their remaining so close by in the autumn months. They aren’t nesting now and as yet I haven’t ascertained where exactly they’re living, only that it’s somewhere near the porch. I see them fly when we pull up in the driveway, and when we open the front door. I can’t even get a good look at them; they’re being evasive.
Their presence lifts my spirit immeasurably: Take heart, be of good cheer, we are still here… the fluttering of wings was so near my face when I opened the door in the dark after hearing the familiar bird voice. It wasn’t alarming. Out in the yawning chasm of night flew the little bird, with my soul tethered to it by inexplicable hope.
In my recent reading
I have encountered
the duality
of slow…
educators know
DEVOLSON:
Dark
Evil
Vortex
Of
Late
September
October
November
a mysterious force
an epicenter
impacting
gravity,
functionality
(=dark matter:
a nonluminous material
causing several effects
in space)
yet in my reading
I also stumble
across the word
Slowvember:
an admonishment
an acknowledgement
that one cannot possibly
do all the things
well
so one might as well
choose to act
vs. being acted upon
a recognition
a submission
a slowing of the pace
even at the edge
of holidays
brimming
glimmering
they are,
after all,
celebrations
of light
(=holy-days)
allow me
an antidote
in an anagram
or two:
DEVOLSON…
Solved? No.
Do novels.
Carve the time
vs. letting it
carve you
nourish
your inner light
it is only flickering
not snuffed
enough is enough
-evil? No.
A divine pull
to the gift
of slow.
slow down, slow down, slow… Victor Bezrukov. CC BY-NC 2.0.
with thanks to Chris Margocs for the DEVOLSON inspiration
Dark autumn morning
chill seeping, coffee steeping
outside, something cries
‘Into the darkness. Mornings are getting dark now, winter is on its way‘ Mr B’s Photography. CC BY 2.0.
Amid the daily grind, the exhaustion
Do not forget:
Voice your needs.
One cannot continue
Cup-filling when your own is empty.
Ask for help.
Take time. Make time.
Elicit the elusive elixir of rest.
‘You can’t pour from an empty cup. Take care of yourself first’ @lucyOTL #whisfc18. johnpopham. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.
The Boy and I
are stargazing
with our SkyView
phone apps
reading names:
Dabih
Mirzam
Capella
Aldebaran
Taygeta
Elnath
Tien Kwan
Betelgeuse
Fomalhaut
Altair
Vega
Deneb
the Pleiades
—makes me remember
that God knows all the stars
and calls them by name
I tell The Boy.
His face is turned up
toward the glittering heavens
after a long moment
he speaks:
I wonder what names
they are.
—Me, too, Boy.
He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name. – Psalm 147:4
The preacher man sat
open Bible in his hands
immersed in the Word
little dog took note
claiming some light for himself
as good creatures do
Dennis assisting the preacher
lit bits and pieces 