Carly brought in a great poem she wrote this morning: "Soft Greens of Spring," a phrase she repeated between stanzas.
Without white winters windy chilling winds
We would not revel in the first kisses of the
Soft Greens of Spring.
I said, "Submit it, Carly!"
Where? Right here, Carly.
She had also unwittingly written two poems in one. Both were good. Selected lines
The refrain was When I'm Gone
When I'm Gone you'll find me at my grandson's wedding.
She told of all the places she'd be after she was gone. It was her BF Denny who suggested she use that refrain.
Now that's true love, to be so involved with the poetry. A great partner is always interested in everything their mate is. That's how we evolve!
She made me a special copy on firm green paper, which I put on the bottom of my shopping cart so it wouldn't get crushed.
After I wheeled the cart to the car, unloading my groceries for tomorrow's guests, I bent down to retrieve the poem..... and it had vanished.
Just called Jeff at the Giant, who didn't have it in the L & F but I gave him my contact info in case he finds it.
Martha was really taken by my house!
Stopped at Mom's after the group. I try to visit her every Saturday. Gave her a magnet of a Hand I got at the AVAM.
Mom, Ellen and I sat on the screened-in back porch in the gorgeous spring weather. Mom was bundled up in a sweater, while I was sweating in a new cotton sweater, one of my Kohl's exchange purchases for my Shark vacuum.Mom's mind is very good but she doesn't remember unimportant details. I told her Linda Barrett had visited a couple of yrs ago. I was fairly sure she wouldn't remember it, and she did not.
Interesting how when you deal with people, you learn what they're likely to remember or not.
While sitting on the porch, the birds were all a'twitter. Simply beautiful. Do you think we're hardwired to love bird sounds?
Also shared my new Guest Column: April is National Poetry Month. In 700 words, I had to educate people on giving poetry a chance to move them. I'd called Alan Kerr, editorial page editor of the Intelligencer, who said his readers would not be interested.
Then I called their sister paper, The Bucks County Courier Times, and the editor said to email it in. I think the column's great and hope she can use it.
Question I asked the group. Does caffeine make you a sharper thinker? I believe it does. I was up writing last nite for five hours, finally bedding down at 4 am, and sleeping soundly until 11.
Wrote four poems, one of which is included in the newspaper article, but, of course, as a special treat to the 10 people who read this blog, I'll publish it here.
She’s
four
fearless
as a
skyscraper!
My heart
leaps
when I see her curls. She shouts
“Bubby!”
I
took a Poetry Workshop two weeks ago with Lynn Levin. She had us work with
several different poetry forms, such as the above “cinquain.”
The
syllabic meter is
2
4
6
8
2
DIABETES HOLDS THE
POWER OF LIFE AND DEATH
In
the middle of the night
I
awoke
something
was wrong
very
wrong
my
legs propelled me
past
my stationery bike
and
down the stairs
darkness
outside
darkness
within
Watch
me stumble
to
the kitchen
switch
on the light
it
blinds me with
its
wah-wah rhythms
Leaning
over the
table,
I think
“You’re
low!
Your
sugar
so
low you’ll
pass
out. Scott
will
find you in the
morning,
blue, stiff
ready
for the sarcophagus.
My
brain had forgotten
how
to think
See
me pound my
fist
on the table
Save
yourself or die!
A
shiver of thrill
went
through me
I
saw Death,
sitting
in the empty chair.
"Fucker!"
I cried,
as
I found my bag of
whole
grain pretzels
at
the table’s edge
Crunch!
said the bag
I
stuck in my hand
a
bear at the hive
and
came up with all
the
honey I needed, and,
shaking,
trembling,
and
sweating,
saved
my life.
This
time.
MY NEIGHBORHOOD
Invisible
in my new
five-dollar
sunglasses
my
steed pulls into
The
Neighborhood
people,
alone,
in
their worlds,
drive
by,
I
cast a glance
toward
them
with
love.
How
proud I am
of
the woman who
drives
a tall red Jeep
how
brave! hair
flying
in the wind
I
wave
does
she wave back?
Colorful
shapes,
like
a Calder sculpture
shine
on the lawn
near
the porch.
Yes,
we’re
fearless
in the
neighborhood
refusing
to put
away
toys we’ll
need
for tomorrow.
Only
a few Jews
live
on Cowbell
I
was the first
and
clasp my hands
in
prayer
as
I pass the Madonna
in
the front yard
five
doors down
Dear
Jesus, I pray,
protect
our neighborhood
and
never
let
me die.
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