I like how counterculture this is, Chuck. Now that social media has become such a force in the world, it seems like the experience of an ephemeral moment is lost in the frenzy to capture and post it on one's social media account(s). Appreciation & presence with one's self & creation sacrificed in service of show & tell.
Ahhhhhhh....what an aha moment it is for me to read this today! I have had the
BEST day I have had in a long time and I find myself wanting to capture the moments in words or pictures to share when really I should just be the one to see it! <3
Nice Chuck. Reminds me of a chorus from Bruce Cockburn's song "No Footprints"..."There will be no footprints when we go; only where we've been a faint and fading glow."
I love how you manage to begin with a very poetic gluteal reference (the cleft between high hills of pillow basalt, aka butt cheeks, in this reader's imagination) and end with your ass (and I love all the playful, colorful images between, too)! Thank you for this very fun poem and prompt :)). Here's what I came up with:
This is so beautiful, Keith! You take me right there to your window, watching what I'm imagining as an eastern bluebird. The idea of the power line as a sea really captivates me . . , the currents of electricity flowing to the far reaches of the horizon and beyond.
As to your comment on my poem, I LOVE that you pictured the high hills of pillow basalt as butt cheeks! 🤣 That makes total sense but didn't occur to me . . . metaphors can be so magical like that!
Thanks, friend. Yes, pretty sure it was an eastern bluebird! I'm so glad you liked my magical pillow basalt butt cheek metaphor (I just had to say "butt cheek metaphor again" ;))
Ahhh we both wrote about birds! Truly ephemeral creatures. Here one moment, flown away, gone the next. "your blue back bobbing on that wire as if it were the sea." Loved this! Then, "you swiveled your sweet head, watching me watch you fly off, leaving no trace, except an imprint of your evanescent grace." So true!
Yes, here we are again riding on a similar train of poetic thought! And you're spot on...what could be more ephemeral than things that fly off without a moment's notice?
Beautiful Keith! I have somehow - through no rhyme or reason - collected a few bird prints I have framed in various rooms of my home....what a lovely addition your poem would be to print and display with them!
This is sweet, Keith. I like the way you take what could be a simple, ordinary act of watching a bird, and mold it into something extraordinary. The ending is so nice, "an imprint of evanescent grace." So good!
This is such fun. I've been having so many crow encounters the past couple weeks and absolutely zero hawk sightings, which is a big change for me (though I'm walking the route I always do). Yesterday it occurred to me that maybe I'm supposed to pay attention to that . . . and of course the crow encounters have amplified and now include your poem! The ending is delightful - "oh how I wanted to be a crow that day! To enter the untethered blustery storm of shenanigans."
Julie, what a delightful poem! You give a beautiful feeing to a gathering of crows, ubiquitous birds that they are, and I will never look at them the same! These splendid lines:
"Now I know now why it is called
a murder of crows.
For hundreds gathered
dashing back and forth
between three large trees.
Countless wings flapping
not in a synchronized murmuration
but a yowling squall of escapades.
It seemed I came upon
a convention of sorts.
Maybe of keening, maybe of cackling.
But, oh how I wanted to be a crow that day!
To enter that untethered
blustery storm of shenanigans."
How beautifully evocative this is! I love the way you see and perceive the world!
"A yowling squall of escapades" - this made me smile. I could picture this cacophony...it's stunning how loud a murder of crows can be, and I always find it so interesting when they fly back and forth between trees. You've inspired me to learn more about their "blustery storm of shenanigans."
What a lovely line "that untethered blustery storm of shenanigans."! I have such fond memories of crows because their carrying on reminds me of summer times camping with my family as a child.
Good evening friends...I am trying to emerge from the depths of my anxiety/despair/stress ball to write something of joy :) Here in AR, we are noticing the daffodils starting to appear. I wish I had a picture to share - I'll take one tomorrow!
Emerging from anxiety/despair/stress or from grief can feel a lot like a bulb breaking up through the cold ground. This is lovely, Karri! The rhyming and rhythm feel light and springy and as cheerful as a daffodil.
"they seem to know just when to show hope for the coming season" - this is such a lovely sentiment. Crocus and daffodils are always such harbingers of renewal. The most magnificent of flowers because of how miraculous they seem, busting through the deathscape of winter. Like Larry, I am in New England, where daffodils still seem a long way off, so thanks for this vicarious hope!
Thank you Karri! Yes they are coming up where I live too and I am really enjoying them this year more than other years. For I am needing their hope, their spurt of color, a song that says, like you said, "Spring is nearly here!"
This is so lovely, Karri! Thank you for sharing signs of spring--we still have a ways to go here in northern New England to even see glimpes of the joy of spring. I love daffodils, and I love how you attach hope to the flowers and the coming of spring. Inspired Indeed! Blessings and peace to you.
I've been out of the loop the past few days. Among other things, I just adopted a puppy! I'm finally getting into the comment page for this post on the day of Lisa's next post. But I didn't want to lose my chance to pay homage to ephemerality. The thing that came up for me around this was those fleeting (for me) glimpses I get from time to time of larger & unexplained forces at work. I didn't decide to adopt a puppy -- I fully feel that the decision got made for me. Wish I could live like that all the time!
Hahaha, well you know new puppy parents are always way too happy to share pics! 😝 I’ll give one to Lisa to post next time as it sounds like that’s the only way Substack will let us do it.
What a delightful poem, Rebekah! What a magical way you move through the world. I love how you take us along on your journey Bob, and the clear and wide eyed way you integrate him into the family! A gem of a poem!
I'm so glad that I just got the Bob Barker tip from Lisa's latest post, or I would have missed this delight! Bob Barker is a priceless name for a dog, period - but knowing all the additional serendipities and synchronicities that heralded his arrival (and naming) makes it exponentially richer. Congrats on the expansion of your family (hope you are all acclimating well)!
I also would've missed this if it weren't for Lisa's recent post. I'm so glad it was linked so I could read it. I love the serendipity! I named my dog River Song because she had a literal lower-case r on her chest and because the paperwork from her fosters also had the word River on it somewhere, and I just knew it was right. I'm so glad we got this wonderful introduction to Bob Barker.
Oh, I want to hug that little child - and the beautiful, big-hearted person he continues to be! I love the notion of rainbows quietly appearing. They don't make a big sound or fuss, they are just there, and if we are too caught up in the commotion of other things, we're likely to miss them. I love the child's knowing, too, that "the rainbows are still there," even when they aren't visible to the eye. This is so beautiful, Larry.
Powerful piece Larry. What a comforting and hopeful dream, to carry through a life time. As "The child grows older and sleeps less well in a world where neither children or elders seem to matter, and the mountain of losses become too steep to climb. Yet the dreams never stop," Wow that is so poignant! These dreams are like prayers, aren't they? A knowing what is possible.
For... "the music never goes completely silent, and the village in the clouds becomes beloved communities rowing against the tide. And the rainbows quietly keep appearing, bridges between joy and sorrow, hope and despair. Gentle gateways to Love that never ends." Beautiful!
Beautiful dreams translated into a beautiful poem, Larry. It's poignant and precious that the child hung onto his dream as a deep knowing that rainbows are always there, somewhere, bridging joy and sorrow, a way out of the nonsense of this world and back to boundless love. Wishing you many more of these dreams (and better sleep).
I love the idea of rainbows as bridges. And I love the idea of those rainbows continuing to appear, even when we think they aren't there. <3 Beautiful words.
Lisa, what a fun poem. The running after the rainbow, the pot of gold to grab onto. Then realizing the ongoing pursuing but never attaining. That to know the rainbow is to be present, "All I have to do is stop racing, sit down, and pin it in place with the force of my presence and the weight of my ass." Wondrous!
And I loved what you said about moving into a fun or joyous expression is not needing to "cleanse our palate after expressions of grief or outrage" but "to expand our palette". I have come to know that there is a spectrum of feeling. And some come out at the same time like joy and grief. Both can be honored they do not cancel each other out.
Love it Lisa - definitely made me smile....but also so true that sometimes we just need to "stop racing, sit down, and pin it in place with the force of my presence and the weight of my ass"!!!
One of the highlights of my week is reading your poems and prompts! I saw the word and rainbow and smiled as wide as one! We explored the notion of rainbows this past Sunday in church, as symbol, sign, message, emotional support, cultural icon and the sacred and divine nature of the rainbow. We are a rainbow people! I'll share a poem later, but wanted to share here and also say I loved your poem and the ability to be playful and serious, refective and boundingly boisterous!
“Boundingly boisterous” - what delightful words to try to live up to! Thank you, Larry! I love the synchronicity of this. Rainbows have been a big thing for me in the past month. I’ve seen a LOT of them and been thinking about and experiencing them in new ways.
brief.
fleeting.
momentary.
passing.
short-lived.
temporary.
transient.
don't pin its wings down.
for all to see.
but maybe find your glasses.
for you to see.
Another be still and know god wink.
I love this so much - don't try to hold the ephemeral thing down, just hold yourself still and close long enough to properly see it.
Yes. Thank you.
I've missed a lot of good stuff looking for the camera.
I like how counterculture this is, Chuck. Now that social media has become such a force in the world, it seems like the experience of an ephemeral moment is lost in the frenzy to capture and post it on one's social media account(s). Appreciation & presence with one's self & creation sacrificed in service of show & tell.
Frenzy......
good word
Ahhhhhhh....what an aha moment it is for me to read this today! I have had the
BEST day I have had in a long time and I find myself wanting to capture the moments in words or pictures to share when really I should just be the one to see it! <3
🙂 one sweet god wink after another 🙂
I love your poems Chuck. To the point!
Nice Chuck. Reminds me of a chorus from Bruce Cockburn's song "No Footprints"..."There will be no footprints when we go; only where we've been a faint and fading glow."
Excellent, larry, thank you.
actually, stemmed from a rob bell butterflies quote.🙂
I love how you manage to begin with a very poetic gluteal reference (the cleft between high hills of pillow basalt, aka butt cheeks, in this reader's imagination) and end with your ass (and I love all the playful, colorful images between, too)! Thank you for this very fun poem and prompt :)). Here's what I came up with:
There you were,
as if you’d always been,
and would always be,
perched on the prosaic power line
just a window away from me.
As if you weren’t just
a flicker of divinity,
a blue blaze
pointing the way
out of
February’s monotony.
Your caramel belly
puffed round against the chill,
your blue back
bobbing on that wire
as if it were the sea
you swiveled your sweet head,
watching me
watch you
fly off,
leaving no trace,
except an imprint
of your evanescent grace.
This is so beautiful, Keith! You take me right there to your window, watching what I'm imagining as an eastern bluebird. The idea of the power line as a sea really captivates me . . , the currents of electricity flowing to the far reaches of the horizon and beyond.
As to your comment on my poem, I LOVE that you pictured the high hills of pillow basalt as butt cheeks! 🤣 That makes total sense but didn't occur to me . . . metaphors can be so magical like that!
Thanks, friend. Yes, pretty sure it was an eastern bluebird! I'm so glad you liked my magical pillow basalt butt cheek metaphor (I just had to say "butt cheek metaphor again" ;))
Ahhh we both wrote about birds! Truly ephemeral creatures. Here one moment, flown away, gone the next. "your blue back bobbing on that wire as if it were the sea." Loved this! Then, "you swiveled your sweet head, watching me watch you fly off, leaving no trace, except an imprint of your evanescent grace." So true!
Yes, here we are again riding on a similar train of poetic thought! And you're spot on...what could be more ephemeral than things that fly off without a moment's notice?
Beautiful Keith! I have somehow - through no rhyme or reason - collected a few bird prints I have framed in various rooms of my home....what a lovely addition your poem would be to print and display with them!
I take that as high praise, thank you! And as to your bird prints, they must have called to you for some reason. I'm glad you listened :)
This is sweet, Keith. I like the way you take what could be a simple, ordinary act of watching a bird, and mold it into something extraordinary. The ending is so nice, "an imprint of evanescent grace." So good!
Thank you, Larry! It truly was an extraordinary/ordinary moment. A beautiful bluebird, suspended just feet away outside my window. A real gift.
Here is my poem for this ephemeral time...
.
What did I enter into that day
as I began my daily walk.
My time of pause and quiet
immediately interrupted.
A clamoring ruckus of caws,
screeches and screams.
My feet with a mind of their own
spun towards this odd cacophony.
An entranced curiosity
drawing me closer and closer into
an absolute pandemonium of wildness.
Now I know now why it is called
a murder of crows.
For hundreds gathered
dashing back and forth
between three large trees.
Countless wings flapping
not in a synchronized murmuration
but a yowling squall of escapades.
It seemed I came upon
a convention of sorts.
Maybe of keening, maybe of cackling.
But, oh how I wanted to be a crow that day!
To enter that untethered
blustery storm of shenanigans.
This is such fun. I've been having so many crow encounters the past couple weeks and absolutely zero hawk sightings, which is a big change for me (though I'm walking the route I always do). Yesterday it occurred to me that maybe I'm supposed to pay attention to that . . . and of course the crow encounters have amplified and now include your poem! The ending is delightful - "oh how I wanted to be a crow that day! To enter the untethered blustery storm of shenanigans."
Thanks Lisa. And ohhh hawks are my totem, my spirit animal! They are so special to my heart. So I related to your mention of hawk sightings.
Julie, what a delightful poem! You give a beautiful feeing to a gathering of crows, ubiquitous birds that they are, and I will never look at them the same! These splendid lines:
"Now I know now why it is called
a murder of crows.
For hundreds gathered
dashing back and forth
between three large trees.
Countless wings flapping
not in a synchronized murmuration
but a yowling squall of escapades.
It seemed I came upon
a convention of sorts.
Maybe of keening, maybe of cackling.
But, oh how I wanted to be a crow that day!
To enter that untethered
blustery storm of shenanigans."
How beautifully evocative this is! I love the way you see and perceive the world!
Thanks Larry, I appreciate that!
"A yowling squall of escapades" - this made me smile. I could picture this cacophony...it's stunning how loud a murder of crows can be, and I always find it so interesting when they fly back and forth between trees. You've inspired me to learn more about their "blustery storm of shenanigans."
Yes that was quite an experience! One, two, three crows are loud, but this many together? Quite a display. They are quite the tricksters.
What a lovely line "that untethered blustery storm of shenanigans."! I have such fond memories of crows because their carrying on reminds me of summer times camping with my family as a child.
Good evening friends...I am trying to emerge from the depths of my anxiety/despair/stress ball to write something of joy :) Here in AR, we are noticing the daffodils starting to appear. I wish I had a picture to share - I'll take one tomorrow!
Daffodils
Shoots of green with yellow blooms
Are starting to appear.
Their bell shaped flowers seem to announce
Spring is nearly here!
Precocious buds break through the earth
As winter stops its freezing.
They seem to know
Just when to show
Hope for the coming season.
-Karri Temple Brackett
February 21, 2024
Emerging from anxiety/despair/stress or from grief can feel a lot like a bulb breaking up through the cold ground. This is lovely, Karri! The rhyming and rhythm feel light and springy and as cheerful as a daffodil.
showing hope.
I like seeing them poke up thru the snow
"they seem to know just when to show hope for the coming season" - this is such a lovely sentiment. Crocus and daffodils are always such harbingers of renewal. The most magnificent of flowers because of how miraculous they seem, busting through the deathscape of winter. Like Larry, I am in New England, where daffodils still seem a long way off, so thanks for this vicarious hope!
Thank you Karri! Yes they are coming up where I live too and I am really enjoying them this year more than other years. For I am needing their hope, their spurt of color, a song that says, like you said, "Spring is nearly here!"
This is so lovely, Karri! Thank you for sharing signs of spring--we still have a ways to go here in northern New England to even see glimpes of the joy of spring. I love daffodils, and I love how you attach hope to the flowers and the coming of spring. Inspired Indeed! Blessings and peace to you.
I've been out of the loop the past few days. Among other things, I just adopted a puppy! I'm finally getting into the comment page for this post on the day of Lisa's next post. But I didn't want to lose my chance to pay homage to ephemerality. The thing that came up for me around this was those fleeting (for me) glimpses I get from time to time of larger & unexplained forces at work. I didn't decide to adopt a puppy -- I fully feel that the decision got made for me. Wish I could live like that all the time!
I passed Bob’s Burgers and Brew
right as the podcast guest
bobbed about something. I
wasn’t even listening anymore,
too focused on navigation,
but I was present enough to
hear and see Bob
at the same time, and know
that it mattered. This after I
learned that my puppy’s
intended namesake,
Bob Barker, was not a Me Too
villain as I had ageistly feared,
but an animal rights activist and
Rosebud Sioux tribal member
born only 63 miles from my
house, which is nowhere near
the Rosebud Sioux reservation
or Hollywood. Also, Bob is
a palindrome and you can
approximate it on a calculator
with the numbers 808,
which refers to a sick beat
in hip-hop, and when I
pulled up to the house,
the first numbers I saw were
808, which actually belonged to
the house next door, but still.
The name Bob was good,
and Bob Barker even better,
and I walked to the door
thinking I’d never met
a dog named Bob.
.
Inside, my future puppy
growled and barked at me,
but this was canceled out by
the fact that his foster mom
had her own dog named Bob,
whom I met, and the fact that
my Bob came from Fresno,
same as Bjorn, and was born
on the day we spread
the last of Zelda’s ashes
in Oakhurst, just 40 miles
north of Fresno, and we don’t
even live in California anymore.
On the drive home, Bob
was sick as an 808 beat
the whole way, and scared,
and Bjorn ignored him and gazed
ceaselessly out the rear window,
back down the road of all
Bob-related decisions,
a table he’d been excluded from
like all other tables.
But the thing is, I wasn’t
at the table, either. Our new boy
just appeared, and a dozen small
serendipities opened my arms.
.
Bob Barker slept through
the night. In the morning,
he was everything I'd been
promised.
Ooooooooh I love this! You've been bobbing in a veritable sea of synchronicities. Welcome to the family, Bob Barker!
I am afraid we all must insist on seeing a picture of young Mr. Barker to truly appreciate him as your muse and new fur baby!
Unfortunately I don’t think Substack lets you share pics in the comments, but with Bekah’s permission, I’ll share one in my next post!
Hahaha, well you know new puppy parents are always way too happy to share pics! 😝 I’ll give one to Lisa to post next time as it sounds like that’s the only way Substack will let us do it.
What a delightful poem, Rebekah! What a magical way you move through the world. I love how you take us along on your journey Bob, and the clear and wide eyed way you integrate him into the family! A gem of a poem!
I'm so glad that I just got the Bob Barker tip from Lisa's latest post, or I would have missed this delight! Bob Barker is a priceless name for a dog, period - but knowing all the additional serendipities and synchronicities that heralded his arrival (and naming) makes it exponentially richer. Congrats on the expansion of your family (hope you are all acclimating well)!
I also would've missed this if it weren't for Lisa's recent post. I'm so glad it was linked so I could read it. I love the serendipity! I named my dog River Song because she had a literal lower-case r on her chest and because the paperwork from her fosters also had the word River on it somewhere, and I just knew it was right. I'm so glad we got this wonderful introduction to Bob Barker.
Lisa's prompt brought back a recurring a dream I had as a child and found its way into this poem.
Rainbows and Clouds
A child wanders in dreams,
wispy clouds like fog coming off the ocean,
crowds of people dressed in robes;
Black, white, orange, blue, green, pink…
I am sure there were more.
Smiles and laughter like long lost friends
in this dream village where kindness and peace ruled.
A child wakes to this earth, this hungry planet,
where the screams and arguments,
bullying and bull headedness, seize the day.
The child learns early on to look up,
find the rainbows arcing over the green hued ocean,
as silver skies turn to blue.
And when the skies are clear in bright sunlight,
or dark in a symphony of stars
knows it is because the rainbows have sung their melodious song,
that beauty is within and without each tender heart.
When the clouds and rain dim the horizon,
the child knows the rainbows are still there,
waiting for the dreams to begin.
The child grows older and sleeps less well
in a world where neither children or elders seem to matter,
and the mountain of losses become too steep to climb.
Yet the dreams never stop,
the music never goes completely silent,
and the village in the clouds becomes
beloved communities rowing against the tide.
And the rainbows quietly keep appearing,
bridges between joy and sorrow,
hope and despair.
Gentle gateways to Love
that never ends.
Oh, I want to hug that little child - and the beautiful, big-hearted person he continues to be! I love the notion of rainbows quietly appearing. They don't make a big sound or fuss, they are just there, and if we are too caught up in the commotion of other things, we're likely to miss them. I love the child's knowing, too, that "the rainbows are still there," even when they aren't visible to the eye. This is so beautiful, Larry.
Thank you Lisa for your kind and caring comment. Thank you always for the inspiration!
Powerful piece Larry. What a comforting and hopeful dream, to carry through a life time. As "The child grows older and sleeps less well in a world where neither children or elders seem to matter, and the mountain of losses become too steep to climb. Yet the dreams never stop," Wow that is so poignant! These dreams are like prayers, aren't they? A knowing what is possible.
For... "the music never goes completely silent, and the village in the clouds becomes beloved communities rowing against the tide. And the rainbows quietly keep appearing, bridges between joy and sorrow, hope and despair. Gentle gateways to Love that never ends." Beautiful!
Thank you very much, Julie!
Beautiful dreams translated into a beautiful poem, Larry. It's poignant and precious that the child hung onto his dream as a deep knowing that rainbows are always there, somewhere, bridging joy and sorrow, a way out of the nonsense of this world and back to boundless love. Wishing you many more of these dreams (and better sleep).
Thank you Keith!
I love the idea of rainbows as bridges. And I love the idea of those rainbows continuing to appear, even when we think they aren't there. <3 Beautiful words.
Lisa, what a fun poem. The running after the rainbow, the pot of gold to grab onto. Then realizing the ongoing pursuing but never attaining. That to know the rainbow is to be present, "All I have to do is stop racing, sit down, and pin it in place with the force of my presence and the weight of my ass." Wondrous!
And I loved what you said about moving into a fun or joyous expression is not needing to "cleanse our palate after expressions of grief or outrage" but "to expand our palette". I have come to know that there is a spectrum of feeling. And some come out at the same time like joy and grief. Both can be honored they do not cancel each other out.
Thank you, Julie! And you put it so well - "both can be honored, they do not cancel each other out."
Love it Lisa - definitely made me smile....but also so true that sometimes we just need to "stop racing, sit down, and pin it in place with the force of my presence and the weight of my ass"!!!
Thanks, Karri! I'm glad it coaxed a smile.
One of the highlights of my week is reading your poems and prompts! I saw the word and rainbow and smiled as wide as one! We explored the notion of rainbows this past Sunday in church, as symbol, sign, message, emotional support, cultural icon and the sacred and divine nature of the rainbow. We are a rainbow people! I'll share a poem later, but wanted to share here and also say I loved your poem and the ability to be playful and serious, refective and boundingly boisterous!
“Boundingly boisterous” - what delightful words to try to live up to! Thank you, Larry! I love the synchronicity of this. Rainbows have been a big thing for me in the past month. I’ve seen a LOT of them and been thinking about and experiencing them in new ways.
Lisa, my sense is that Rainbows follow you!
Haha, when I was in Oregon, that was definitely my literal experience multiple times!
You are a rainbow bringer!