I like this Rebekah! It is a creative description of the work of fire fighters and the small joys that may come even in the midst of larger tragedies. A splendid and moving poem!
Beautiful and sad - like a dirge. “Singing on the windy breath / of the earths lungs / bereaving the smoky deaths / of California trees and homes.” Wow, those lines make me ache.
I haven’t been able to update, and now there are new fires. I’m just praying for everyone today, especially because the winds have picked up again and the two major fires are only partially contained.
Ohhhhh what a punch-to-the-gut of an ending! This poem pulled me in with a sort of innocence, like it was just an easy read, and then it just built and built . . . like a harmless spark growing to a wildfire.
Thank you for providing an opportunity to face the fires in a poem. I have a friend who lost everything in them and it’s hard to think about much else.
I'm so sorry to hear about your friend. I keep thinking about how many losses are stacked on top of each other - home, safety, the sense of being wrapped in memories, community, livelihood . . . the list just goes on and on. I'll be thinking of your friend, too.
Ohhhh ouch! Are you alright, Larry?? Two beloved senior members of my family have taken significant falls in the last week or so. One got lucky, and one didn’t. I am hoping luck was with you, friend, and that you’ve suffered nothing worse than bruises! Clearly, your creativity is still fully intact “The ice falls so quick, so fleeting,
the pain and consequences so lasting.” Such beautiful, insightful, and painful lines.
All good Lisa! I was recalling falls of the past, as we got our first real snowfall and slippery season is in full gear here. Prayers and good heart for your elders who have fallen recently. May healing be strong! Thank you for you!
I’m glad it isn’t just me! By the way, your chapbook came in the mail a few days ago. I haven’t started reading yet but am really looking forward to doing so!
The Ice Storm of January 1967 - my first week in Sycamore Indiana as a brand new 13 yo, fresh to the glazed cornfields and shattered trees from a very different Princeton NJ -
"In the trees, glass[es] clinking, limbs toasting to better days. I lie beneath them, brave the shatter of tumbling flutes." Love this evocation (for me) of a life changing, Lisa.
Hello everyone - I have missed reading all of your words. I'm trying to ease back into things....fire and ice totally describes my emotions of the last few months.
I haven't seen the sunrise in more days than I can count;
The cold and ice have bound me to my bed.
Driving toward the east now, I pass fields covered in white;
The pinkish red horizon clears my head.
Bare branches silhouetted against the eastern sky,
The sun a promise of a warmer day.
Will I feel as hot as fire today or as frozen as ice?
Karri!!!!!! Seeing you here makes me so happy, but oh, I’m so sorry to hear that you’re in such a fiery and icy season of late. Your poem is beautiful. “The pinkish red horizon clears my head” - I can so easily relate to that . . . and to the reality that the clearing (like each cloud) is temporary.
Why I Don’t Like Liquid Smoke
.
I don’t remember what tools we used
or if I wore gloves or if my skin
turned black.
.
I don’t remember coughing or stumbling
or needing to later trash my
clothes and shoes.
.
I don’t remember how many of us
there were. I picture a regatta
of letterman jackets (red-white-blue)
sailing crisply over the charcoal
but surely that’s a fiction – who would
bring such a prize to the mines?
.
Jackie found the wedding ring: that’s
one thing I recall.
.
The other is the smell of what
my friend’s house became,
eaten down to its acrid bones
eaten down to its very ghost
.
who slumped in the rubble and
watched us work, and now
haunts my nose.
I love the sharp surprise of the final line and the sad, soot-stained vividness of the images that precede it. Beautiful!
Just beautiful.
I like this Rebekah! It is a creative description of the work of fire fighters and the small joys that may come even in the midst of larger tragedies. A splendid and moving poem!
I checked last posting to make sure I didn’t already share this.
I didn’t but if mistaken, forgive me for getting memory challenged.
Tree branch fractals are singing a dirge
This morning in Tucson
Accompanied by an orchestra
Of wind chimes
Singing on the windy breath
Of the earth’s lungs
Bereaving the Smokey deaths
Of California trees and homes
Beautiful and sad - like a dirge. “Singing on the windy breath / of the earths lungs / bereaving the smoky deaths / of California trees and homes.” Wow, those lines make me ache.
Well, you asked us to write and maybe not fully on point but I saw a connection. Are you well into your second hundred?
I've only written maybe 5 or so poems this year, but I think I managed 180+ last year, so I'm not too worried about the numbers right now!
So what has been your personal evolution since you started writing? How would you put it into a poem?
Just did one the other day.
https://open.substack.com/pub/caroleroseland/p/inferno?r=3myco9&utm_medium=ios
I appreciate this poem so much and the invitation to sit for a moment in the grief and horror that so many are experiencing.
I haven’t been able to update, and now there are new fires. I’m just praying for everyone today, especially because the winds have picked up again and the two major fires are only partially contained.
I'm praying with you!
Thank you Carole, for sharing this wonderful poem and article abojut the terrible devestation of the fires in California.
True hell indeed
fire in her eyes.....
ice in her veins.....
flame in my heart.....
chill in the air.
..happy anniversary, dear one..
This is so sweet! Happy anniversary to you and your dear one!
Very nice, Chuck! Happy Anniversary!
Fire
.
There was always a story floating around
about two kids who started a fire in the fields
that stretched beyond a school, or a store
or someone’s pretty house. Somehow, those two
found matches or a lighter or a candelabra
and lit them up in the dry grass.
And we all know the rest.
.
We have spent summers stuck inside
because the forest fire air was so bad
and flakes of ash floated down on our way to the car.
We have been in a heat dome that covered the city
huddled in the attic where the only air conditioner blew
a stale coolness, toddlers sick and panting.
.
We have stared into campfires,
blown out candles and had hot wax
push across small hands, crying out.
But nothing like this hell right now.
Why do I get to keep my home?
Ohhhhh what a punch-to-the-gut of an ending! This poem pulled me in with a sort of innocence, like it was just an easy read, and then it just built and built . . . like a harmless spark growing to a wildfire.
Thank you for providing an opportunity to face the fires in a poem. I have a friend who lost everything in them and it’s hard to think about much else.
I'm so sorry to hear about your friend. I keep thinking about how many losses are stacked on top of each other - home, safety, the sense of being wrapped in memories, community, livelihood . . . the list just goes on and on. I'll be thinking of your friend, too.
Thank you, Lisa. Yes, the losses feel endless.
"Some say the world will end in Fire,
- some say in Ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor Fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think that for destruction, Ice
is also great and would suffice." - Frost
Love that poem! (hope I've recalled it correctly!)
Such a great poem!
Here's a short one that begain with a slip and a fall.
Fire and Ice
^
In the span of a breath, it happens,
flat on my back and rocked into haziness;
The ice falls so quick, so fleeting,
the pain and consequences so lasting.
Inside the fire warms the house,
takes the chill from my bones,
makes winter dreamlike for a time.
Two elements meeting in the middle,
spark of creation coming home,
a tale forever told.
Ohhhh ouch! Are you alright, Larry?? Two beloved senior members of my family have taken significant falls in the last week or so. One got lucky, and one didn’t. I am hoping luck was with you, friend, and that you’ve suffered nothing worse than bruises! Clearly, your creativity is still fully intact “The ice falls so quick, so fleeting,
the pain and consequences so lasting.” Such beautiful, insightful, and painful lines.
All good Lisa! I was recalling falls of the past, as we got our first real snowfall and slippery season is in full gear here. Prayers and good heart for your elders who have fallen recently. May healing be strong! Thank you for you!
Thank you, Larry! And I'm so relieved to hear this wasn't something recent and acute . . . I was worried about you!
Thank you for worrying! I expect I will not get through the winter without a fall, and I''ll ask for prayers when the next one comes!
I love this Lisa, and the wonderful description of the creative proess that brought it to life. This middle stanza is just magnificient!
"I see gravity
bend with the branches.
Icicles curve,
curl like talons,
scratch the rising ground."
I marvel every time at the wonderful way you create and find the perfect words, and your generosity in sharing with us. Thank you!
And I marvel that people actually take the time to read my poems! Your presence here is such a gift. ❤️
You are the honey bee of substack!!!!
Lovely poem. And I have to keep getting out of my own way when writing again and again and again.
I’m glad it isn’t just me! By the way, your chapbook came in the mail a few days ago. I haven’t started reading yet but am really looking forward to doing so!
Let me know what you think. Thank you so much for buying it!
Beautiful beautiful piece!
Thank you so much, Brian! 💕
I love your poem Lisa, and thank you for sharing Robert Frost's poem too, I hadn't read that before
Thank you and you’re welcome! ❤️
The Ice Storm of January 1967 - my first week in Sycamore Indiana as a brand new 13 yo, fresh to the glazed cornfields and shattered trees from a very different Princeton NJ -
"In the trees, glass[es] clinking, limbs toasting to better days. I lie beneath them, brave the shatter of tumbling flutes." Love this evocation (for me) of a life changing, Lisa.
“Fresh to the glazed cornfields and shattered trees” - what a line!
You're a person of many talents, Lisa. Appreciate those things you do that are rippling, like an antidote, through our world.
What a generous thing to say, Mark! Thank you. We're all casting ripples.
Dandy poem, thanks
Dandy is such a great word!
Hello everyone - I have missed reading all of your words. I'm trying to ease back into things....fire and ice totally describes my emotions of the last few months.
I haven't seen the sunrise in more days than I can count;
The cold and ice have bound me to my bed.
Driving toward the east now, I pass fields covered in white;
The pinkish red horizon clears my head.
Bare branches silhouetted against the eastern sky,
The sun a promise of a warmer day.
Will I feel as hot as fire today or as frozen as ice?
I wonder so but really cannot say.
Karri!!!!!! Seeing you here makes me so happy, but oh, I’m so sorry to hear that you’re in such a fiery and icy season of late. Your poem is beautiful. “The pinkish red horizon clears my head” - I can so easily relate to that . . . and to the reality that the clearing (like each cloud) is temporary.
Oh my goodness. This poem grabbed me from the beginning. The pictures are exquisite too.
Thank you so much! Ohhhhh and I see you’ve left a poem of your own here, too. Going to read now . . .
where do i go again
when the distance between this cold
vein of hopelessness
so is blue?
inside myself, the threads hold
heat better than any sun
out there.
i want to stay inside myself,
i love you.