Today at d’Verse, Grace asked us to write a poem personifying a body part. I chose to write about my hand that seems to be developing carpal tunnel syndrome. My fingers get numb and sometimes I wake up in the night with my hand feeling like it is on fire. I have cut back on my typing, switched to my left hand for the mouse, got a wrist brace, and do some exercises to stretch out the tendons. It is much better that it was a couple of months ago.
Today I am trying the Shadorma form for my poetry for the first time. I hope I got it right!
While resetting my stepping stones, I stopped to take a rest on my chair along the creek. Across the way the sparrows were coming back and forth to the birdhouse with pieces of material to build a nest in the box. I noticed a feather lying in the leaves on the ground on the other side. About that time, I saw the male sparrow fly down and pick it up in its beak. He flew to the birdhouse and proceeded to drag it into the nest. He got two-thirds in the hole, but could not get the rest into the nest. Next thing I knew he pushed it back out and left it float back to the ground.
I went over and picked up the feather and found that it was a hawk feather. The hawks come and visit the gas-line clearing from time to time. It is a beautiful specimen as you can see. I thought it was interesting to see the fuzzy down at the base of the shaft. That is most likely the way they stay warm and insulated in cold weather. I decided to save it for my collection of odds and ends!
Washing a shiny bald head with only traces of down
A slick global arc that would make a women turn away
Happily these hairless days are short lived
But memory now fades, of those obnoxious hair grease jingles
Rattling in my brain out of tune
Today at d’Verse, Lisa asked us to write an Opposites Poem, where we take a poem and write the opposite of it! I chose to do one of my own poems, that I called Hair Daze. The original poem is shown below.
Today at d’Verse Linda asked us to write a Quadrille of exactly 44 words celebrating the fruit of the vine, Wine! On our 50th Anniversary trip in 2019 we were treated to a complimentary bottle of Champagne. that we found in our room when we returned from our morning excursion in Cologne.
Some folks have a hard time believing the Easter story. The resurrection of Jesus found in the gospels gives the account from different writer’s perspectives. You might think that creates contradictions and therefore cannot be true. Others say that since there is no historical record of these happenings, other than the Biblical account, that it is just Christian mythology.
I believe getting lost in the details causes one to lose focus and misses the real message in the Easter story. Easter is about God’s love for all of us, and the belief that he would do what ever it takes to show us that love. Jesus shows us that there is a way to move beyond our self-centered way of thinking to a renewing of the mind… a rebirth of Spirit if you will. Our connection to God is not to some far off being, but rather found in His image and Spirit that dwells within our souls. It is through Jesus’ life and teachings that we can see the Father and find that personal connection to the Living God.
In the Christian faith we celebrate Good Friday, remembering the suffering and death of Christ on the Cross at Calvary. But it is not the dark night of the soul that draws us to God’s Love and Grace. It is the joy of Easter and the Light of the Resurrection that gives us hope. The Light at the end of the dark tunnel is Jesus!
April Fools: These are not just silly limericks. Winnie-Jo is nesting in my bird box on the grape Arbor. She comes by every day and flies at her image reflected in my window. Now it is only a half-hearted gesture, but she seems not ready to give up. Her mate sits nearby and watches without trying it himself. Smart bird!
This is Open Link night at d’Verse Poets Pub. Lillian told us a hillarious true account of her experience in the great Boston snowstorm. Click on the following link to read it: https://dversepoets.com
At d’Verse this evening, De asked us to write a poem about laundry! I grew up in the days when clothes were washed in a ringer washer and washtubs, hung on the line outside with wooden clothes pins, and ironed on an ironing board in the kitchen! No need for fabric softener back then the clothes always smelled wonderful. I decided to do a series of tankas.