Believing in that unbelievable Spirit of all Creation
Experiencing grace and comfort in not knowing
In this winter of freezing joints and pushing buds
I defy the waiting cold earth with warm sunshine
I write my simple poems from inspired words unknown
As night closes in, each new day dawns
“I am the bud and the blossom, I am the late-falling leaf” – from The Paradox by Paul Dunbar
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, Laura asked us to consider writing from the perspective of paradox. She gave us some lines from different poems to choose from for inspiration. I chose the one from Paul Dunbar’s, The Paradox.
Today was a beautiful day for a walk around the park. As I was walking, I looked down and was captivated by the prints on the pavement. Leaf prints and, in the mix, a few dog prints as well. What an interesting canvas for art prints!
I saw America gathered on a cold November night
Black and white, yellow and red with all blends in between
I saw America gathered together as one people…
Children of integration, people of hope, “silver spoons,” and ghetto moms
I saw America gathered with joy in their hearts
College Students, blue collar workers, business men, and teachers
I saw America gathered “One Nation Under God”
People of all faiths, people of no faith, all with hope for the future
I saw America gathered a shining light to the world
Examples of hope, oneness, unity, and love, speaking with one voice
I saw America gathered watching History being made
Bringing down walls of race and fear that for too long held us back
I saw America gathered fulfilling ancestral dreams
Of Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, and Martin Luther King
I saw America gathered to let the whole world know
Those differences can be transcended and peace can be attained.
I saw America gathered and it made me very proud
To be part of this great country where every voice is heard
I saw America gathered and I prayed, that God
Would give our new president wisdom in the difficult path ahead
I saw America gathered as Barack Obama spoke
With humility and pride, confidence and strength, wrapped in words of hope
I saw America gathered eager for national change
Not black or white, rich or poor, simply Americans
…and nothing more!
*Back in 2008. after the disastrous Bush years of the invasion of Iraq, I and many other Americans were drawn in by Obama’s message of Hope and Change. Although the “Hope and Change” did not turn out the way I had anticipated, watching the crowd who came out to see President elect Obama at Grant park that night, was a very moving experience. Immediately following the victory speech, I was inspired to write this.
Sadly the desire to work together was immediately crushed by Republicans, just the way it has now been with the Democarats with Trump. Division and polarization has brought great harm to the country. The vision I saw happening in Grant Park that election evening seems to have gone up in political smoke!
Tonight at d’Verse we were asked to write a poem that reflects Black History Month. The above is my naive dream that we could all come together to create the Hope and Change our country needed.
I learned recently, while watching an episode of Moonshiners, that the blue flame that is the hottest when using propane. When they distil the alcohol from the mash, they like to have the propane burner giving off a blue flame. This means the mixture of air and gas is at optimum performance.
Let me burn with a blue flame
Not orange or yellow;
Let me be intense
with the heat of inspiration.
Let the blue flame rise up
when abuse and injustice reigns
feeling the heat rising within
ready to speak to the issues that matter.
Let me burn with a blue flame
Hot as a moonshine still;
distilling the truth and letting it run
through my fingers and into my poems.
Let my mind bubble and churn
as the purity of my words become clear;
coming through one hundred and sixty proof.
And when my time is done
let it be a blue flame that returns me to dust;
as my spirit rises with that eternal blue flame.
Though she cannot speak.
“Hel-l l lo”
But as the music plays,
Oh… can she sing;
Every word plain and clear
smooth as jazz
across her face the words pour out
with a rhythm,
with spoken words
clear and unchained;
For the stroke
affect that side of the brain.
Today at d’Verse Mish introduced us to artist Beverly Dryer. She asked us to choose one of her watercolor paintings and write a poem inspired by the painting. I chose Hogans Brown Cow. The eyes captured my imagination. Hope you enjoy it. Her painting is used with her permission.
What is it about the ocean’s ebb and flow that brings healing to the soul? Is it the sound of the surf rolling in; or the breakers crashing one the sand? The rhythm of the ocean draws many to seek solitude at waters edge.
As you sit feeling the water tickle your ankles and soft sand squishing between your toes, the cares of the world seem to flow away with the receding tide. The ocean’s mantra soothes the soul and brings rejuvenation and renewed strength.
Ocean works magic
Soul’s sandcastles wash away.
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today Kim, at dverse, asked us to write a Haibun about solitude. I chose to write about the healing qualities of solitude that many find at the ocean.