I loved this post so much and, as you already know because I told you so offline (sister's advantage), this might be my all-time favorite poem of yours! The prompt was lovely and, while I didn't mean to be a copycat by "enjoying" a stovetop activity of my own, that is what ended up happening.
Say, if anyone knows computers/programming, can you tell me if my metaphor in the last three lines works? I was kinda winging it.
This is self-deprecation very well done, indeed. And so relatable. Rare is the human in this culture who hasn't been sucked into the vortex of hustle-bustle and overstimulation. I like to think I go slow, but there is a constant refrain of "more" going on behind the scenes. So many great lines here, too. I especially loved "parenthetical lunch preparation" and "barely tapping the brakes on my day."
Loved this Rebekah. The in the moment movements of the mind in the simple acts of daily living. Of making a grilled cheese sandwich. Then this option to "become a faithful naturalist of my own mind." With Curiosity! So important, I ponder, without curiosity I doubt it could be possible.
Rebekah, this is surely the greatest and most creative poem written about the making and cooking of a grilled cheese sandwhich! Besides making me desirous of my own grilled cheese, or one you--I loved the playful, joyful, musing and philosophical way you bring us through this wonderful masterpiece about a life moment. This is the work of a true poet.
And, I'm not sure exactly why, but learning Lisa and you are sisters makes me feel lighter and brighter. I am glad to be present with you both!
I know I'm not the first to say this, but the phrase "cosmic etc-a-sketch" delights me to no end! I was also struck by "conversant song" and by the powerful simplicity of the ending - "enjoy this moment." Thank you so much for sharing, Larry!
Oh Larry this is so wonderful! Loved "cosmic etch-a-sketch" And how this beautiful night brought a longing for more. Yes what wisdom in that small whisper, "enjoy the moment." I can relate to this more times than I care to count. Yet life is always so gracious guiding me back to the unfolding of this precious moment.
What a magical nighttime scene. I won’t be able to see shooting stars anymore without thinking cosmic etch-a-sketch -- I love that! Your ending really resonated with me; I had a moment like that just today, where I found myself wanting more out of something that was already perfectly lovely. Next time I’ll listen up for that “enjoy this moment” whisper, it’s sure to be there.
"the forest that frames this octagon bowl of space" - I love this line, Larry. And the bustling traffic of creatures in the nighttime forest, is really delightful. Enjoy this moment, indeed. I have enjoyed this moment vicariously through your enchanting poem...thank you for sharing!
I don't think there is an 'edit' option, which is super weird, but there you have it.
Keith, I love this idea of reviewing the unfolding of an ordinary day in timelapse and the drama that highlights in the seemingly mundane. I take this poem to mean that you got some snow, too - hooray for a breath of winter amidst all of this non-winter! There are many beautiful images and turns of phrase in your poem, but the one that keeps turning itself over in my mind is that simple phrase early on - "ordinary in its unfolding." I'm imagining an ordinary piece of paper being unfolded and then unfolded some more and some more still until finally it becomes clear that it's not ordinary . . . and that maybe nothing's ordinary, and every feature of this world is far too fleeting for "ordinary" to have any tangible meaning.
This is a tremendously thoughtful and evocative poem. Lisa is so insightful in her comments about your marvelous poem. I love the way you paint with your words, and how each word and line connects and weaves us through the journey you are inviting us to take. The endign of the poem is magnificient:
Thanks so much, Larry...I'm so glad you enjoyed it! And agreed...Lisa's insights about nothing being ordinary in this world because of the fleeting nature of it all are spot on. How can the ephemeral possibly be ordinary??
Keith, I love this! It's at once playful and fantastical and so real, with our right-now problems front and center, but the promise of healing as well... by the "starlit starlet" -- OMG I was so delighted by that! I could see your sped-up day so clearly and loved getting brought into it.
Keith, I also wanted to mention that I find an edit function when I click on the three dots... at the lower right of my comment. Being a frequent typo maker, I need it. I can't access the function when I am typing from my phone, however.
Thanks Lisa, moved by today's share. I too write these love letters. The last one I did was very unexpected. I was deeply moved by it. What an amazing practice with such incredible wisdom, literally right at our fingertips. As for the prompt, seeing joy in the mundane. The mundane is a powerful place to hang out, but not the easiest to maintain. And there is the key, don't try to "maintain" it! My poem...
Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and this lovely poem, Julie! “The mundane is a powerful place to hang out” - yes, and yet we have such a collective tendency to run from it, whether through distraction or other means. (Or at least I do.) But there’s such power in the “ongoing entering” that you so beautifully describe in your poem. Sometimes I fall into the trap of experiencing a really lovely moment of mindfulness and then wanting to grab onto that and never slip out of presence again! But of course, that moment when you wake back up to Right Now is such a delicious moment - and you can’t have it without first falling asleep.
The imagery of light playing with steam and smoke dancing in delight....delicious! And I can relate so viscerally of having glimmers of poems appear then disappear in an instant. "One cannot hold onto anything when going through the eye of the needle." Such a mic drop.
This is so beautiful, A! I'm sorry that you're going through this hard thing but grateful that you're letting us inside your experience. The ending - "here I am crying over the shape of two people I must now hold separately" is so poignant and powerful.
I found this deeply moving, and just as deeply meaningful (and needed). Grief is barely supported in our culture, period. But grief around losses that *seem* more distal than proximal, or more adjacent than direct, gets really next to no acknowledgement. Yet this kind of grief can cut so deeply. Thank you for shining a much-needed light on that, and in such a beautiful way. Your ending is really gorgeous.
Thank you, Keith. I agree, I think it's important to be more open about grief in general, and perhaps especially in regard to losses that may not appear as deep. I appreciate you holding space for it as well.
This is so dear and so powerful, A. Thank you for sharing a part of this tender, difficult and transforming time. My heart and prayers are with you and your beloveds. I am thinking of Mary Oliver's poem, The Journey, reading your own very beautiful poem. Much love and light to you.
Lisa, thanks for this invitation to elevate the mundane. I love it, and I love your poem, where you manage, as you so often do, to combine play and poignancy. Your landing made me misty-eyed - it perfectly encapsulates the bittersweetness of life happening faster than we would allow if bestowed with the power to slow time.
Here is my offering for this round, hot off the presses:
Lisa! This is absolutely the most remarkable, engaging and interesting description of pancakes being cooked that I have read, heard or experienced! Not to mention the wonderful coming to awareness that you describe. There is a buddhist story that has a refrain "enjoy the blueberries" and I think of yours "Enjoy the pancakes!" I have one of those meetings this evening that I would just as soon avoid, and as I go through it, the phrase "enjoy the pancakes" and the lovely description of Mickey Pancakes will lighten my spirit and help me smile! Thank you being a chef of many flippers!
Thank you for your generous comment, Larry! It also had me wondering how many descriptions you've heard of pancakes being cooked. 😂 I'm intrigued by this Buddhist story with the refrain of "enjoy the blueberries," and I'm off to google it now! I hope your meeting holds some lovely surprise for you, however small.
I loved this post so much and, as you already know because I told you so offline (sister's advantage), this might be my all-time favorite poem of yours! The prompt was lovely and, while I didn't mean to be a copycat by "enjoying" a stovetop activity of my own, that is what ended up happening.
Say, if anyone knows computers/programming, can you tell me if my metaphor in the last three lines works? I was kinda winging it.
Failed Grilled Cheese
Can I do
just one thing
let alone
no thing?
It takes two emails
to grill a sandwich
one per side
or two word games
when I’m playing
hooky
But today I went
screenless, made myself
stand still with my spatula
feeling dull
but not exactly
impatient, more like
resigned.
My eyes
had two choices:
the task at hand
or just past that
(not exactly cheating)
the smeared, crumb-ridden
stovetop that signified
future work
I chose the latter, naturally
and used my spatula
too much
fussing my sandwich
around the pan
before it was cured
so that it partially
molted, and with its
bread-skin compromised
lost its secret inner world
of mayo and pesto
and pickles and
cheese and
became something
more like a
casserole
I ate it and
it was delicious
but what is the lesson?
Resume my normal
protocol of
parenthetical lunch prep
barely tapping
the brakes on my day?
Try again with the
dull method,
keep paring down
until I am One with
sandwich? Give up
and switch to cereal?
Or become a
faithful naturalist
of my own mind, track
--with curiosity only—
its comings and goings
its sparks and sputters
and how its ancient program
performs on an
all-new platform
This is self-deprecation very well done, indeed. And so relatable. Rare is the human in this culture who hasn't been sucked into the vortex of hustle-bustle and overstimulation. I like to think I go slow, but there is a constant refrain of "more" going on behind the scenes. So many great lines here, too. I especially loved "parenthetical lunch preparation" and "barely tapping the brakes on my day."
Loved this Rebekah. The in the moment movements of the mind in the simple acts of daily living. Of making a grilled cheese sandwich. Then this option to "become a faithful naturalist of my own mind." With Curiosity! So important, I ponder, without curiosity I doubt it could be possible.
Rebekah, this is surely the greatest and most creative poem written about the making and cooking of a grilled cheese sandwhich! Besides making me desirous of my own grilled cheese, or one you--I loved the playful, joyful, musing and philosophical way you bring us through this wonderful masterpiece about a life moment. This is the work of a true poet.
And, I'm not sure exactly why, but learning Lisa and you are sisters makes me feel lighter and brighter. I am glad to be present with you both!
The fact that we are sisters makes me feel lighter and brighter, too!
This is a triple like/love!
This Moment
Dark, cold winter night,
when all seems quiet and still,
I listen.
The owls in conversant song
Lead me wondering if their music is calming,
a plea for sanity,
or the gossip of the day.
Across Nick’s meadow is the lope of deer,
graceful dancers of the dark,
vanishing into the forest that frames
this octagon bowl of space.
The scurry of a marauding racoon,
fresh from their night’s thievery;
A scowling gaze warning me to stay back.
Shooting star paints the sky,
cosmic etch-a-sketch
that inspires poets to pen.
Slow meandering skunk crawls along
confident in its defenses and protection
from the likes of me.
We stand safe in our mutual avoidance of conflict.
I wish for northern lights,
rainbow symphony that expands
our hopes for a new beginning.
And I stop, conscious of how often
I wish for even more…
I hear a small whisper from the night spirits,
“enjoy this moment.”
I know I'm not the first to say this, but the phrase "cosmic etc-a-sketch" delights me to no end! I was also struck by "conversant song" and by the powerful simplicity of the ending - "enjoy this moment." Thank you so much for sharing, Larry!
Lisa, Thank you for your kind and sparkling comment! Have a peaceful weekend!
Oh Larry this is so wonderful! Loved "cosmic etch-a-sketch" And how this beautiful night brought a longing for more. Yes what wisdom in that small whisper, "enjoy the moment." I can relate to this more times than I care to count. Yet life is always so gracious guiding me back to the unfolding of this precious moment.
Thank you Julie! I expect as a widely attuned you not only hear those whispers but you follow them! Peace be with you!
What a magical nighttime scene. I won’t be able to see shooting stars anymore without thinking cosmic etch-a-sketch -- I love that! Your ending really resonated with me; I had a moment like that just today, where I found myself wanting more out of something that was already perfectly lovely. Next time I’ll listen up for that “enjoy this moment” whisper, it’s sure to be there.
Rebekah, often for me, I need a thuderous roar to remind me! Thank you for your kind and gracious comment!
"the forest that frames this octagon bowl of space" - I love this line, Larry. And the bustling traffic of creatures in the nighttime forest, is really delightful. Enjoy this moment, indeed. I have enjoyed this moment vicariously through your enchanting poem...thank you for sharing!
Thank you Keith. Your comments to all of us are beautifully kind. Thank you for that, and you!
Gah! a typo. Here is the full poem, again (can't figure out how to edit my original post!):
A January day,
ordinary in its unfolding,
turns dramatic when reviewed
in time lapse of mind’s eye.
Gray and flat to start,
it slowly builds to a boil
of pinprick flurries
frenzied as
they squeeze from the sky
like blood from a stone.
“Fuck you, climate crisis,”
spit the pinpricks.
“Winter lives!”
Sun, in its supporting role,
bursts through a curtain
of fast moving clouds,
punctuating
the desperation of the declaration.
Then, in the blink of hours
that feel like moments, sun returns
and in magnificent encore,
edges clouds iridescent.
Sun bows deeply and
gestures sweepingly
to the starlit starlet called
Twilight, whose pink promise
salves the hearts bruised
by days on days
of horrors across borders.
Holds tenderly hearts
swollen with love
that threatens to burst.
I don't think there is an 'edit' option, which is super weird, but there you have it.
Keith, I love this idea of reviewing the unfolding of an ordinary day in timelapse and the drama that highlights in the seemingly mundane. I take this poem to mean that you got some snow, too - hooray for a breath of winter amidst all of this non-winter! There are many beautiful images and turns of phrase in your poem, but the one that keeps turning itself over in my mind is that simple phrase early on - "ordinary in its unfolding." I'm imagining an ordinary piece of paper being unfolded and then unfolded some more and some more still until finally it becomes clear that it's not ordinary . . . and that maybe nothing's ordinary, and every feature of this world is far too fleeting for "ordinary" to have any tangible meaning.
I think you've nailed it...every feature of this world is far too fleeting for "ordinary" to have tangible meaning. <3
Lisa, I like this brilliant insight!
This is a tremendously thoughtful and evocative poem. Lisa is so insightful in her comments about your marvelous poem. I love the way you paint with your words, and how each word and line connects and weaves us through the journey you are inviting us to take. The endign of the poem is magnificient:
Sun bows deeply and
gestures sweepingly
to the starlit starlet called
Twilight, whose pink promise
salves the hearts bruised
by days on days
of horrors across borders.
Holds tenderly hearts
swollen with love
that threatens to burst."
A gracious and holy Wow!
Thanks so much, Larry...I'm so glad you enjoyed it! And agreed...Lisa's insights about nothing being ordinary in this world because of the fleeting nature of it all are spot on. How can the ephemeral possibly be ordinary??
Ashe!
Keith, I love this! It's at once playful and fantastical and so real, with our right-now problems front and center, but the promise of healing as well... by the "starlit starlet" -- OMG I was so delighted by that! I could see your sped-up day so clearly and loved getting brought into it.
Thanks Rebekah...and yes, the power of poetry to help us metabolize pain through play and imagery. So glad you enjoyed it :)
Keith, I also wanted to mention that I find an edit function when I click on the three dots... at the lower right of my comment. Being a frequent typo maker, I need it. I can't access the function when I am typing from my phone, however.
Oh that's so helpful to know! I've never found it on my phone either, but I guess it is available on the computer!
Thanks Lisa, moved by today's share. I too write these love letters. The last one I did was very unexpected. I was deeply moved by it. What an amazing practice with such incredible wisdom, literally right at our fingertips. As for the prompt, seeing joy in the mundane. The mundane is a powerful place to hang out, but not the easiest to maintain. And there is the key, don't try to "maintain" it! My poem...
There is power in the mundane.
Something inexplicable within simplicity.
Not as an event to capture and detain,
but through a precious relinquishment.
An ongoing entering,
without ever really arriving.
Continually crossing the threshold,
while always being right here.
.
This morning in the shower the sun
was shining through the window.
Light rays were playing with the rising steam,
like whiffs of smoke dancing in delight.
Warmth surrounded me in a delicious calm,
a perpetual waterfall of anointed blessings.
Drops dripping down the pane of glass,
merging collectively into the waters below.
.
For a moment I had a thought about a poem.
Then in a flash, it all disappeared.
Grasping is not the means.
One cannot hold onto anything when
going through the eye of the needle.
Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and this lovely poem, Julie! “The mundane is a powerful place to hang out” - yes, and yet we have such a collective tendency to run from it, whether through distraction or other means. (Or at least I do.) But there’s such power in the “ongoing entering” that you so beautifully describe in your poem. Sometimes I fall into the trap of experiencing a really lovely moment of mindfulness and then wanting to grab onto that and never slip out of presence again! But of course, that moment when you wake back up to Right Now is such a delicious moment - and you can’t have it without first falling asleep.
Thank you again for your beautiful offering!
Yes this is the irony of it! "Right Now is such a delicious moment - and you can’t have it without first falling asleep."
The imagery of light playing with steam and smoke dancing in delight....delicious! And I can relate so viscerally of having glimmers of poems appear then disappear in an instant. "One cannot hold onto anything when going through the eye of the needle." Such a mic drop.
"Mic drop" wow, I love that analogy. Thank you very much!
What a splendid poem, Julie. The range and depth of your creating, writing and thinking is an inspiration and a blessing. The ending is stunning:
"For a moment I had a thought about a poem.
Then in a flash, it all disappeared.
Grasping is not the means.
One cannot hold onto anything when
going through the eye of the needle."
I feel blessed by your writing every time. Thank you so much.
Thanks Larry! Yes, the ending was one of those moments in writing when I didn't feel I was the one writing. A powerful moment.
Those are my favorite moments!
I love your pancake poem - there is so much there. I guess mine is a little bit about not feeling ready for what comes next, too.
I spent the morning
mourning a marriage
that is not my own,
but felt as much a part of me;
two people who I have only
ever known together.
I sat with my shocked sobs,
yet...
I knew, didn't I?
There was that feeling,
floating in my periphery,
I kept telling myself to ignore,
telling me something
was changing.
While I contemplated divorce
last year, I never imagined
they would commit to it,
but here I am
crying over the shape of
two people I must now
hold separately.
This is so beautiful, A! I'm sorry that you're going through this hard thing but grateful that you're letting us inside your experience. The ending - "here I am crying over the shape of two people I must now hold separately" is so poignant and powerful.
Thank you, Lisa. You've already created such an inviting space, I knew it would be held tenderly here.
I found this deeply moving, and just as deeply meaningful (and needed). Grief is barely supported in our culture, period. But grief around losses that *seem* more distal than proximal, or more adjacent than direct, gets really next to no acknowledgement. Yet this kind of grief can cut so deeply. Thank you for shining a much-needed light on that, and in such a beautiful way. Your ending is really gorgeous.
Thank you, Keith. I agree, I think it's important to be more open about grief in general, and perhaps especially in regard to losses that may not appear as deep. I appreciate you holding space for it as well.
This is so dear and so powerful, A. Thank you for sharing a part of this tender, difficult and transforming time. My heart and prayers are with you and your beloveds. I am thinking of Mary Oliver's poem, The Journey, reading your own very beautiful poem. Much love and light to you.
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
Mary Oliver
Thank you, Larry! I keep meaning to explore more of Oliver's work.
She is remarkable. 💚
Lisa, thanks for this invitation to elevate the mundane. I love it, and I love your poem, where you manage, as you so often do, to combine play and poignancy. Your landing made me misty-eyed - it perfectly encapsulates the bittersweetness of life happening faster than we would allow if bestowed with the power to slow time.
Here is my offering for this round, hot off the presses:
A January day,
ordinary in its unfolding,
turns dramatic when reviewed
in time lapse of mind’s eye.
Gray and flat to start,
it slowly builds to a boil
of pinprick flurries
frenzied as
they squeeze from the sky
like blood from a stone.
“Fuck you, climate crisis,”
spit the pinpricks.
“Winter lives!”
Sun, in its supporting role,
bursts through a curtain
of fast moving clouds,
punctuating
the desperation of the declaration.
Then, in the blink of hours
that feel like moments, sun returns
and in magnificent encore,
edges clouds iridescent.
Sun ws deeply and
gestures sweepingly
to the starlit starlet called
Twilight, whose pink promise
salves the hearts bruised
by days on days
of horrors across borders.
Holds tenderly hearts
swollen with love
that threatens to burst.
Lisa! This is absolutely the most remarkable, engaging and interesting description of pancakes being cooked that I have read, heard or experienced! Not to mention the wonderful coming to awareness that you describe. There is a buddhist story that has a refrain "enjoy the blueberries" and I think of yours "Enjoy the pancakes!" I have one of those meetings this evening that I would just as soon avoid, and as I go through it, the phrase "enjoy the pancakes" and the lovely description of Mickey Pancakes will lighten my spirit and help me smile! Thank you being a chef of many flippers!
Thank you for your generous comment, Larry! It also had me wondering how many descriptions you've heard of pancakes being cooked. 😂 I'm intrigued by this Buddhist story with the refrain of "enjoy the blueberries," and I'm off to google it now! I hope your meeting holds some lovely surprise for you, however small.
Hah! Now this ia good question! I suppose Jack Johnson's song "Banana Pancakes" might not count!