Today at d’Verse, it is Quadrille Monday. We are to write a Quadrille of 44 words that includes the word embrace. This has been a long lonely year for many of us, not being able to socialize with friends and family like we used to do. Covid-19 is taking its toll around the world. One of the worst effects of Covid is the separation of families at the time of death. This to me is unacceptable, even with the risks involved. We have decided that connecting with family is worth the risk, and though infrequent, we get together from time to time. My poem today expresses that sentiment.
When I was young on my first day of school
One little boy cried tears to fill a pool
The classroom was a scary place that day
Marching in line // no time to poke or play
Our small wooden desks were in long straight lines
Like staunch rigid backbones of long straight spines
Evenly spaced with seats that folded down
Waiting for life where none was to be found
Not a soul whispered //no one made a sound
We all sat stiff and rigid as the teacher made her rounds
Every child’s little heart was now beating fast
I wondered in my mind if this would last
Turns out I’m not made for rigid rows of desks
nor for all those difficult tests
I seem to have one foot outside the box
With a mind running free to write my thoughts
Painting: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse we are looking at the word order and applying it to poetry. Lara asked us to write a poem that reflects how we feel about order. I have never been one to stay inside the lines so order for me has always been difficult as you see in my poem above. You can see First Grade in school made quite an impression on me!
Interesting how our gods all fall to pieces
when crisis comes knocking at our door.
Life in disarray lies before us
with no way of putting it back together again.
Looking into the eyes of hopelessness
shocks us into reality.
Invincible has no definition in our world;
We all sit on the wall waiting to fall.
Interesting how our gods fall to the floor
When crisis comes knock knocking at our door.
Inspired by a poem I read by Paul Vincent Cannon – Birthed by Silence
In this time of uncertainty we soon find out who we really are as people. Some go into a tail spin and become fearful of every little thing. Others try in vain to stock up hoards of stuff to satisfy their manic tendencies. Some believe God is in control and all will work out in time for our good. For many, happiness is gone; replaced with anxiety. I am sure we all experience some of these tendencies. How we approach a crisis is much the same as we approach our every day life. Happiness is like the weather; sunny one day and raining the next. Joy goes to the core of our being and sustains us through the bad weather that will come in our lives. Remember what is important in life.
Happiness and Joy
Happiness is a little bird
Perched on the rail
Right within my grasp
Only to fly away
I reach out to take hold of it.
Joy is the blood
Pumping through my veins
A constant rhythm of rejuvenation
Not something to be possessed
Rather something to be
Joy is what keeps my soul alive
I posted this back in December, but feel it might be helpful to post it again.
Whether panic is needed seems to depend on those who seed it …
Who you gonna call
When there’s no number given?
All in a panic, listening to the news;
We, who are used to a very quick fix;
A pill to cure all our ills.
Fear causes quite a stir
When there’s no one to call.
This evening at d’Verse, De Jackson asked us to write a Quidrille of exactly 44 words using the word stir. With the Coronavirus causing a major world wide stir, I thought I would write about our reaction to it.
I was lost…totally lost in the pitch-black darkness. I climbed this ridge several times in the daylight, following the winding trail all the way to the top where we had set up camp. Now I was stumbling; tripping over rocks and branches as I wander off the trail. Why did I forget to bring my flashlight?
Talk of a mountain lion in the daylight brought no fear, but now, in the pitch dark, the reality presented itself with every distant rustle of the leaves and breaking of a branch. I pressed on climbing upward, feeling my way through the saplings, mountain laurel, and dead tree limbs. “The top can’t be too much farther.”
Suddenly. there is that unmistakable wine of a big cat; off in the distance, yet too close for comfort. Chills run up my spine, when far away an interrupted cry… silence!
Bjorn at d’Verse introduced us to our new form to work with…Flash Fiction. He asked that it not be more than 144 words. It could be exactly 144 words as well. Mine is 144 words. We must use the given line from a poem somewhere in the story. Today it was “when far away an interrupted cry…”
Another senseless shooting here at UNC Charlotte this week left families devastated. The student who tackled the gunman gave his life to save his classmates. The whole community is in mourning over the incident. Many turned out along the highway today as the young man was brought back to his hometown of Waynesville.
What do birds do on frigid winter nights?
Huddling cold together they shiver and shake;
Snow falling //a million different shapes;
Layers fields with diamonds// all catching light.
When winds howl, I’m snug // asleep in my bed
Birds have no blankets // no warm comfy house
Out in the cold sleeping under pine boughs
No place of protection to lay their heads
We can’t house all the birds in warm delight.
The same true with people, which makes me sad;
Many live in fear // no beds to be had;
While the rest of us live // sleep well at night.
In spite of the cold most birds do survive;
Third world people struggle to stay alive.
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today is open link night at d’Verse and Grace reminded us of the loss of a great poet, Mary Oliver, who loved writing poems about her experience in nature. I decided to write this sonnet as a tribute to her love of nature and the questions she might ask.