National Poetry Month, V.7.0, Day 30

Well, once again, I have survived the month of April.  Thanks for reading along this year's journey.  I know it's difficult for many people to "get" poetry, so thanks for indulging me!  I hope you've enjoyed this year's offerings as much as I've enjoyed writing them.  Some, I think, were pretty good - and others......well, there's a reason it's difficult to make money writing poems!!!  That has always been true - and it's why I don't quite my day job!  The unique challenge in this yearly endeavor is not just writing something every day for 30 days - it's exploring the many different angles of life - from the mundane to the sublime.  It's exploring the spirit of the writer, and in some small way, communicating that spirit to others through the written word.  Yes, prose can do that, too, but not in quite the same way.  Poetry - unless you're talking the epic stuff like Beowulf, the Iliad, etc - is about taking the reader along for the ride, usually quickly, and bringing them back again, hopefully changed for the better.  Maybe I've managed to do that this year, but whether I have or not, I know it's changed me, and maybe that's the seldom-heard part:  it's the poet who, in trying to change others and say something important, ends up the most changed.  

Today's offering is an homage to my father, who plants his garden every year.  He loves it.  This year, for the first time ever, I am planting my own garden.  It's been a very cathartic experience, and thus far, I've loved it.  Maybe I finally understand this aspect of my father.  It's pretty neat.

So, for this year, once again - 

Thanks for reading,

Me

planting season

i never understood his passion for it,
planning meticulously how many feet
it might take, 
how much to put in the ground.
how far apart each row must be,
knowing just how much space the late-bloomers 
needed, and when, 
so he could remove the early ones before they were overwhelmed.
now, i understand - 
when planting my first garden,
just what it was my father always did
and i took for granted.
my hands remember how,
after many long years of avoiding the work,
they remember how to plant a garden.

National Poetry Month, V. 7.0, Day 29

Sometimes, poems need warning labels.  Today's comes with one, though it's not because it's anything explicit.  The warning is this:  there is more than one way to read a poem, and you should try multiple ways.  I was reminded of this when my guest poet shared another work with me - one that I don't think I should share here because it's not my background to talk about.  I was generally confused, for it came in two parts, looking like two different works.  If I took it as two different works, it became two different ways of dealing with an idea.  If I took it as one work, it was a transition of thought and feeling - through experience - into a vastly different sense of being.  And I didn't know which reading of it to follow.  This is good, because it forced me to ask how it was intended, and got me thinking about it.  So, when today's idea came to me, I realized that here, too, there are multiple way of interpreting my words.  So I encourage any reader to look at this one in multiple ways.

Thanks for reading,

Me

tombs of my fathers

you are resting, at long last,
your journey done,
and all that's left are memories
good and bad.
i needed you, and you were there,
as a father should be for a child,
to nurture and grow and discipline -
to be an example.
and now, 
as i have done many times before,
i lay myself to rest,
another version of me taking up space
in the cemetery of my forbears,
all laid to rest with the same loving care
as a new me takes his rightful place.
i carry the torch, now,
and know that one day this will be my home, too,
as another generation will 
take up this standard.
my son, i lay no burden on you but this:
live with the heart of the fire,
love with the depth of the oceans,
fight with the strength of the mountain,
and speak with the breath of the wind.

National Poetry Month, V. 7.0, Day 28

Wow - it really is day 28 of 30 - the month has flown by, and the ideas are constantly coming at me!  That is, of course, one of the many benefits to doing this yearly exercise:  it stimulates the mind, and challenges me to come up with different ideas - or different ways to express old ideas, for that matter.  One of the most common images/ideas is that of water.  It's a basic human need, and we understand it intrinsically.  Countless poems about waves, storms, ships, calm seas, baptism, washing, floods, etc - forgive the obvious one here - it's like a (wait for it) TORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR!  Yup - we're THAT close to it.  So if we're that close to it....maybe I'll write about it, too!!  That is my offering for today.

BUT WAIT - There's more!!!!!  Guest appearance today!!!  Yup, a reader has submitted some works for your perusal, and I am sharing them here because I like them - and someone took the risk of putting themselves out there to share themselves with me - they deserve to be rewarded.

On behalf of myself and my guest,

Thanks for reading,

Me

to be as water

to be as water -
the gentle rain that seeds the earth,
and the stinging blows of cold spring,
a peaceful glassy surface,
and the wind-ripped waves of the storm,
the life-giving flow of the river,
and the merciless flood as it pours ever downward -
all are within my grasp,
the form i take
is mine to choose,
and each day calls me to make that choice.
i have been them all,
and i know the spring that swells from deep within my soul.
i know my choice.

Uneasy

Ideas flow at midnight

upsetting my tired spirit,

tangling with my prayers,

sparring with each other

like dueling epees.

"En garde" they seem to say,

prepare for battle.

settle this once and for all,

which will be the victor?

Should the muse win over

the sandman?

Maybe tomorrow?

Oh, just get to it and see where it leads....

National Poetry Month, V. 7.0, Day 27

Today's offering is something I've been tossing around for a little while, and has been an integral part of my health and fitness journey.  The idea is simple enough: exploring the connection between the selves:  physical, emotional, spiritual, and mental.  Some might say that's too many selves, but here's my reasoning:  The physical self is easy to understand - the body.  Emotional is pure "feeling," spiritual is that part of us that transcends mere human existence, and mental, is, of course, the logical, practical side of us all.  You can share this concept or not - it really doesn't matter to me - but this is an attempt to begin addressing these inner relationships.  I'm not sure where I will go with this concept - it might be something I take further and do a LOT of work on, and it might be a short-lived project.  I really don't know.  It is still an idea yet in progress.  On my journey, though, I have found these relationships changing significantly, and their interdependence upon one another, a thing of beauty.

Thanks for reading,

Me

less and more

there was more of me,
a long time ago, now.
i saw a picture the other day,
and barely recognized my face,
so young, so troubled,
so full of self-loathing and fears,
round in ways i never liked.

there is less of me, now.
hard work and effort have brought me
back to health,
and though i still carry some of the fears,
and even some of the self-loathing,
though i am less,
i have become more.

National Poetry Month, V. 7.0, Day 26

Today's offering is not something I have experience recently.  In fact, it's only happened a few times that I know of in my life.  Some people are lucky enough to sleep every night all the way through.  I.....will probably never be that person.  I usually wake at least once during the night.  I don't always remember it, or do anything in that moment.  Most nights, it's just turn over and go back to sleep.  But sometimes, there's something there, something in that moment that makes me stop and take stock.  Today I decided to write about that moment.

Thanks for reading,

Me

one small moment

in the pre-dawn hours i awoke,
and all was silent,
the sounds of the city vanished
in the darkness.
i could not tell if it was the first deep breath of morning,
before life began a new day,
or if it was the death-knell marking the end of yesterday.
in that briefest of moments,
only one thing remains certain:
i was there to witness it, 
and i lived fully in that moment,
mourning the loss of one day
and celebrating the beginning of another.

National Poetry Month, v. 7.0, Day 25

I have noticed a trend lately, on social media - in the guise of "being positive" there are a lot of "lists" out there:  "Ten signs you have a blocked colon"  "18 ways to unblock your colon"  "12 signs you need to work on you"  "38 reasons it's not you, it's the rest of the world"  and it goes on and on.  The problem I have with these is not that they aren't TRYING to do something positive, it's that what they are really doing is focusing the energy of the individual inwardly, and making us - as a culture - more egocentric.  Personally, I think it's a trend we should be a little more aware of, if only to keep us focused on the only thing that always has held true:  We need to focus more on caring for one another.  When humanity does this, we prosper.  It has always been true, and it likely always will be.  Anyway, this is my take on all of these lists - and yes, the last stanza is just a little jarring - the rhythm changes enough to mess with you.  On purpose.

Thanks for reading,

Me

lists

five things to never do...
eight traits to know if you're...
three ways to get to...
sixteen methods to be sure...

if he does these dozen...
when she acts like this...
nineteen things you never knew about...
ten different ways to kiss...

it's wearying and harrowing,
it's worrying and maddening,
it's listing all the little things
that really aren't mattering.

all designed to make us put the blame
on others for our troubles,
all designed to make us feel better 
about all our faults and foibles.

and in the end,
we feel worse because,
we are not treating others
with tenderness and love.

National Poetry Month, V. 7.0, Days 23 and 24

Oops!!!!

I was so involved in watching the hockey game and hanging out with some friends yesterday, that I forgot to post yesterday!!!!  So, you get a two-fer!!

OK, so here's some background on today's poems:  I spent some time outside, tilling the soil for my new garden.  It was all manual, no machines, so yeah, it was just a little work - but nothing too bad.  Anyway, it made me think about all the springs that when I was growing up, helping my father till the soil.  Of course, that meant that he worked the machine, and we did all the other jobs that needed to be done, like pick the rocks out of the soil.  Oh, those rocks....there were so many.  we would add them to the "rock pile" that we kept - they came in handy on occasion - when pouring concrete for foundations, etc., but largely, the pile just kept growing.  Every once in a while we'd find a really big rock that we couldn't lift, and my father would have to do it, but this didn't happen too often.  Long story short - too late - in gardening today, I started pulling rocks from the soil, and creating a pile of rocks.

While doing this, the neighbor put his pittbull puppy outside, as he often does.  Levi.  Levi.......is a very social puppy, and he wants his people.  That is Levi's world.  It's pretty small, but he's pretty young.

So, there you have it.  I hope you enjoy! And, as always,

Thanks for reading,
Me

rock pile

at the corner of the old red barn,
on old pile of rocks,
taken from the garden every spring.
we'd walk behind, waiting for his big boots
to kick them up, 
and pick them up in the white buckets that hurt my hand.
we added them to the pile, 
they looked the same as the other rocks
encased in concrete that made the foundation.
the barn is gone, i think,
and the pile with it now,
but as i tilled the soil today for the first time,
my big shoes kicked up the stones,
and i began a new pile of rocks.

little Levi

little Levi is bored,
his toys no longer serve,
his imagination and playfulness
too much for his little realm,
so he stands in his backyard,
alone,
and dreams of being with people,
inside or out,
just a kindly voice to be there,
is all Levi wants.