The heat drained. The light went out. Venus shone all at once, we opened our eyes all at once. Our gasps heated the air. It must have moved like a wave, this sound, beginning on the beaches of Mexico, sweeping inland and north, spilling from the lips of border patrol— we gasp the same in ever tongue. It lifted me at 3:04, when the sun tucked behind the moon, her laughter a still-glowing ring. You could map her course with a microphone, could measure her pace in sharp inhalations, stunned silence, laughter, slightly unhinged, in spirited clapping. When she reached the Atlantic, I hope she took a bow.
What a lovely turn this poem takes - from sweeping majesty to the majestic mundane! I love the simplicity of the ending. I think being able to find awe in the ordinary and everyday is one of the greatest gifts there is.
I have to confess that I got a jump on a prompt that may still be coming for us -- but when I saw that the actual prompt was awe, realized my poem still fit the theme. As usual, I am betraying my love of birds.
I found myself letting out a big, peaceful sigh as I came to the final lines of your poem. You took me right into the beauty that makes you and the warblers crave that northern nest! There are so many beautiful lines here, but I especially love "they must / redline their pinhead hearts / for thousands of miles from / places that never die back."
This is chock full of so much delicious imagery, Rebekah - it made my heart swell reading it! "Buttercups crouched in rime" - something about this line made me read and re-read. A wonderful ode to the intrepid (warblers and gardeners).
Yes, there is awe in the face of disaster. I remember when my area was burning, the hills afire. Initially, I was completely filled with awe. Awe in witnessing the dancing flames, fire can be so beautiful. And to see the power of destruction, the truth of impermanence. I felt halted in my stance, I could not look away. Yes awe can take a darker turn. No apologies needed!
This poetic portrait of the moon's course as a soundtrack of exclamations of awe is utterly delightful. I hope she took a bow over the Atlantic, too. By the time she reached the mountains of Vermont, she had her arms full of roses, I'm pretty sure. ; )
Loved this Keith! "And awe always knew, but didn’t say that with space and time, you and I would manage to stay focused on impact rather than intent, would wind our way back to who we are meant to be." Yes impact rather than intent! That is what awe feels like.
Thanks, Julie - impact over intent really requires setting myself aside and centering the other, which is such a huge departure from what I was taught. It is truly awesome, when I can manage it.
I love all the faces of awe you show us -- from starry skies to baby's toes to seasonal shifts to interpersonal to personal. And I dig the personification of awe as something that "always knew, but didn't say..."
Thanks, Rebekah - such a good way to put it - awe's many faces. So many - and so many I have yet to see. Here's to seeing her in her amazing multiplicity<3
Astonished giggles are my favorite kind of giggles! The ones that aren’t so much Abo it hilarity as about childlike delight. My boys and I started giggling in just that way during the eclipse. I love the ending of your poem - the fact we can be here on the ground and connected so deeply to something seemingly so distant.
The astonished giggle says it all, such an embodied expression of awe. I love the last lines, so beautiful: "I'm not sure I have ever/felt as connected to the stars/as I do in this moment/from this piece of ground."
I love how you extract the "astonished giggle" of awe and show how it manifests in various corners of your life -- then plant us right in the actual feeling of it at the end. Beautiful, A!
Lisa that must have been amazing sight. And I have heard others speak of this amazing recognition, knowing that there are multitudes of people witnessing this event all at the same time. I love how you wrote, "Our gasps heated the air. It must have moved like a wave, this sound, beginning on the beaches of Mexico, sweeping inland and north, spilling from the lips of border patrol— we gasp the same in ever tongue."
I have had a lot on my plate lately. I had intended to write two poems a week alongside with you, but life has other plans. But here I am today, in awe of springtime, especially the rose bushes in my back yard.
.
All the leaves on the rose bushes are squeaky clean,
every blade vibrantly green, shiny and new.
Each popping bud echoing the reverberation of birth,
opening in a spectacle of color and scent.
One by one the petals unfurl into a new display.
Calling me to humbly celebrate every blossom.
Witnessing each new arrival as a blessed event.
There is nothing like this initial springtime burst.
From the dormant winter soils come fertile grounds,
enraptured with new burgeoning abundant life.
I am mesmerized by this wondrous pageant of artistry.
I love the description of new leaves as squeaky clean! This is beautiful, Julie, and I’m glad spring is there to offer up its delights in a moment when it sounds like life may have tossed a thing or two onto your plate that you weren’t expecting. I’m glad for every poem you share here!
I love this blossom-by-blossom celebration of early spring! We were on the same wavelength -- spring is also bowling me over and inspired my poem for today.
"Each popping bud echoing the reverberation of birth" - love this line, Julie. And how funny that I had just commented that the moon of Lisa's poem had her arms full of roses by the time she reached Vermont, without knowing I would read about your gorgeous rose garden a moment later (!!).
Ah I can see your lovely roses in my minds eye! We have a couple of wild rose bushes my dad transplanted here 17 years ago and they are a different kind of beauty. More chaos than classic.
I loved this and honestly, I wish I had had more of a community/group experience of the eclipse with others. We heard those in the neighborhood around us cheering and clapping during totality and I think it would have been quite lovely to be among others (not that my husband and daughter were bad company!) Which is totally counter to my usual antisocial loner personality!
I was also alone with my family (three kiddos and a dog), but there was a large group of campers gathered up a hill and out of sight, perhaps 200 yards away, and their gasp followed ours like an echo, which helped inspire this poem.
Thank you, Priscilla! I played around with a last line about me bowing inwardly to the sun, but the simplicity of the sun taking a bow ended up feeling like the right fit. I’m glad it landed for you!
This is a link to an essay of sorts on “awe”. Awe at least inspired the piece. It’s not well put together and hurriedly put together so I could post it before Thanksgiving. There is a small “poem” at the end.
The view of majestic Rockies from the Continental Divide
Literally took my breath away.
The wooded terrain of Appalachia with its streams that run ice cold
Transported me to an ancient forest.
The endless stretches of Great Plains dotted with wind turbines
Left me feeling slightly unmoored.
The gray blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico
Made me wonder about the ocean beyond the horizon.
But what of this day?
In this place?
The wind whistling through the trees, as the crows caw and a dog barks.
The sun shining brightly on a world washed clean by last night's rains.
While inside the house, the quiet echoes, aside from the soft sounds of pups' snoring.
Well,
This is awesome too.
What a lovely turn this poem takes - from sweeping majesty to the majestic mundane! I love the simplicity of the ending. I think being able to find awe in the ordinary and everyday is one of the greatest gifts there is.
I so enjoyed taking this journey of imagination to far-flung places and back home. Reminds me of that TS Eliot poem "Little Gidding":
“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time."
Yes it is awesome too. From the awe of majestic beauty to the awe within our simplicity of living. Loved this.
Sounds like you were surrounded by awe wherever you went this day. Excellent. Rare. Excellent.
What a lovely ode to the here-and-now, made especially dear when juxtaposed against all of the flashier things you've seen.
Beautiful, Karri! The "well, this is awesome too" feels so casual and gentle and true.
I have to confess that I got a jump on a prompt that may still be coming for us -- but when I saw that the actual prompt was awe, realized my poem still fit the theme. As usual, I am betraying my love of birds.
.
Second Yellow
.
First came the bells,
pushing into still-slanted
light, and the buttercups
crouched in rime.
.
That was in the beginning,
when bits of yellow meant
we’d made it.
.
But now we are mucking
out our gardens and
the tap is on:
small bursts of biscuitroot,
lavish arrowhead bouquets,
leafed pledges of arnica,
silvercrown, and every other
aster, and these are all
garlands laid down
for warblers.
.
To get here, they must
redline their pinhead hearts
for thousands of miles from
places that never die back.
They choose this trouble.
They crave the northern
nest, same as us.
.
Concertmaster Audubon’s
gave the first note yesterday.
When the yellow chorus
begins, I will put down
the rake and pray
welcome.
I found myself letting out a big, peaceful sigh as I came to the final lines of your poem. You took me right into the beauty that makes you and the warblers crave that northern nest! There are so many beautiful lines here, but I especially love "they must / redline their pinhead hearts / for thousands of miles from / places that never die back."
I just went on a walk and saw the tiniest yellow est /most yellow bird. Did you send him lol.
Why yes I did! ;)
An joyous ode to spring! Yes "I will put down the rake and pray welcome."
🙂 "concertmaster audubon" 🙂
This is chock full of so much delicious imagery, Rebekah - it made my heart swell reading it! "Buttercups crouched in rime" - something about this line made me read and re-read. A wonderful ode to the intrepid (warblers and gardeners).
"Pray welcome" ❤️
My jar drops its farthest
When the awe comes pregnant
with horror.
with shock.
with fear.
Like Katrina.
Like 9-11.
Like Jan 6.
Like God
sometimes.
Yes, there is awe in the face of disaster. I remember when my area was burning, the hills afire. Initially, I was completely filled with awe. Awe in witnessing the dancing flames, fire can be so beautiful. And to see the power of destruction, the truth of impermanence. I felt halted in my stance, I could not look away. Yes awe can take a darker turn. No apologies needed!
Thanks for covering the shadow side of awe, Chuck. I have remembered a few times how the military campaign in Iraq was called "shock and awe."
(sorry, a darker turn)
I love your dark turn! Horror is absolutely a variety of awe.
darkness makes for damn good poetry...bring it!
This poetic portrait of the moon's course as a soundtrack of exclamations of awe is utterly delightful. I hope she took a bow over the Atlantic, too. By the time she reached the mountains of Vermont, she had her arms full of roses, I'm pretty sure. ; )
Here is my awe-inspired offering:
Awe lives and breathes
in the greening of the grass,
the incandescence of the sugar maple
against October’s hoary mornings,
the hush that falls with
November’s first flurry,
the way the full moon tricks us
into believing, just for a moment,
that she’s close enough to pluck
out of the stars,
and the way the stars insist
on shining just as brilliantly
over the tent city
as over Mar-a-Lago’s gild.
Awe comes packaged
as baby’s toes.
And awe always knew,
but didn’t say
that with space and time,
you and I would manage
to stay
focused on impact
rather than intent,
would wind our way back
to who we are meant
to be.
This is beautiful! I love the images of the moon seeming so close that we could pluck it from the stars and of awe coming packaged as baby's toes!
Thanks, friend...so many ways awe comes packaged, truly!! <3
Loved this Keith! "And awe always knew, but didn’t say that with space and time, you and I would manage to stay focused on impact rather than intent, would wind our way back to who we are meant to be." Yes impact rather than intent! That is what awe feels like.
Thanks, Julie - impact over intent really requires setting myself aside and centering the other, which is such a huge departure from what I was taught. It is truly awesome, when I can manage it.
I love all the faces of awe you show us -- from starry skies to baby's toes to seasonal shifts to interpersonal to personal. And I dig the personification of awe as something that "always knew, but didn't say..."
Thanks, Rebekah - such a good way to put it - awe's many faces. So many - and so many I have yet to see. Here's to seeing her in her amazing multiplicity<3
Nice star words.
🙂Stars don't care 🙂
🙂they just shine.🙂
Thank you, Chuck. Yes, those equal opportunity stars. Love 'em!
I love this. It's full of such beautiful and simple imagery.
Thank you, A - so glad to know it resonated :))
An astonished giggle
looses itself from my lips
as I look upward and around.
This familiar feeling has followed
me and my gaze
from earth
to ocean
to sky;
from words
to art
to my children's eyes.
I'm not sure I have ever
felt as connected to the stars
as I do in this moment,
from this piece of ground.
Astonished giggles are my favorite kind of giggles! The ones that aren’t so much Abo it hilarity as about childlike delight. My boys and I started giggling in just that way during the eclipse. I love the ending of your poem - the fact we can be here on the ground and connected so deeply to something seemingly so distant.
What a wonderful poetic description of feeling wholeness with life, with everything, with yourself.
The astonished giggle says it all, such an embodied expression of awe. I love the last lines, so beautiful: "I'm not sure I have ever/felt as connected to the stars/as I do in this moment/from this piece of ground."
A. your poetry that mentions your children always makes me smile!
I love how you extract the "astonished giggle" of awe and show how it manifests in various corners of your life -- then plant us right in the actual feeling of it at the end. Beautiful, A!
Lisa that must have been amazing sight. And I have heard others speak of this amazing recognition, knowing that there are multitudes of people witnessing this event all at the same time. I love how you wrote, "Our gasps heated the air. It must have moved like a wave, this sound, beginning on the beaches of Mexico, sweeping inland and north, spilling from the lips of border patrol— we gasp the same in ever tongue."
I have had a lot on my plate lately. I had intended to write two poems a week alongside with you, but life has other plans. But here I am today, in awe of springtime, especially the rose bushes in my back yard.
.
All the leaves on the rose bushes are squeaky clean,
every blade vibrantly green, shiny and new.
Each popping bud echoing the reverberation of birth,
opening in a spectacle of color and scent.
One by one the petals unfurl into a new display.
Calling me to humbly celebrate every blossom.
Witnessing each new arrival as a blessed event.
There is nothing like this initial springtime burst.
From the dormant winter soils come fertile grounds,
enraptured with new burgeoning abundant life.
I am mesmerized by this wondrous pageant of artistry.
I love the description of new leaves as squeaky clean! This is beautiful, Julie, and I’m glad spring is there to offer up its delights in a moment when it sounds like life may have tossed a thing or two onto your plate that you weren’t expecting. I’m glad for every poem you share here!
I love this blossom-by-blossom celebration of early spring! We were on the same wavelength -- spring is also bowling me over and inspired my poem for today.
"Each popping bud echoing the reverberation of birth" - love this line, Julie. And how funny that I had just commented that the moon of Lisa's poem had her arms full of roses by the time she reached Vermont, without knowing I would read about your gorgeous rose garden a moment later (!!).
I love those serendipitous moments...
Ah I can see your lovely roses in my minds eye! We have a couple of wild rose bushes my dad transplanted here 17 years ago and they are a different kind of beauty. More chaos than classic.
This is so lovely, Julie. I could picture the blossoming roses so clearly.
I loved this and honestly, I wish I had had more of a community/group experience of the eclipse with others. We heard those in the neighborhood around us cheering and clapping during totality and I think it would have been quite lovely to be among others (not that my husband and daughter were bad company!) Which is totally counter to my usual antisocial loner personality!
I was also alone with my family (three kiddos and a dog), but there was a large group of campers gathered up a hill and out of sight, perhaps 200 yards away, and their gasp followed ours like an echo, which helped inspire this poem.
I just adore the idea of a wave of gasps travelling along the path of the eclipse.
I love this, Lisa! I never thought about tracking the eclipse through sound. And that last line-—oo-oo-oo.
Thank you, Priscilla! I played around with a last line about me bowing inwardly to the sun, but the simplicity of the sun taking a bow ended up feeling like the right fit. I’m glad it landed for you!
This is a link to an essay of sorts on “awe”. Awe at least inspired the piece. It’s not well put together and hurriedly put together so I could post it before Thanksgiving. There is a small “poem” at the end.
https://open.substack.com/pub/billy2r6q7/p/all-this-useless-beauty?r=1nyjrs&utm_medium=ios
What a beautiful piece. Thank you so much for sharing!
Very nice! Love that idea of gasping in awe and that carrying across continents.
Thanks, Billy!
Where wild roses grow
On a beach
Tides come and go
Waves crash upon the shore
Waves wash away again
People pass with children
Dogs their toys
Sit here still wait
Listen for the song of the sea
Crossing an ocean void
Watching land recede
Journey on to favoured places of
Seal cockle fish silver sand
Listening to the song of the sea
On beaches round these islands
Picking sea shells choosing stones
The swell the waves through sea kelp beds of golden sand
Barking seal sea bird chatter
So very busy round the waning tide
Picking shellfish insect sea weed greens
To the rhythm of the sighing sea
The sun shines down a blessing on this sacred day
In this land of the white hare of the stag
Where the wild roses grow
The blooming machair the North Atlantic glow
On a beach
Black crystal glass clear quartz
Hawkweed wild
Beneath the arcing blades of a wind turbine
The North Atlantic swell crashes
The honeyed heather smell
A small boat on the open seas
Running across the swell
Crossing an ocean void
The boat rocks rhythmically
Relax take in the hidden now revealed
The sweet honeyed scent of the heather persists
Past the islets heading for open sea
Now running with the swell
The little boat bucks and bounces
The lighthouse comes into view
Floating on this feminine principle
A little bit of yang the mother of it all
The one who takes away
Now calm now supporting
We turn around head back
Bouncing bucking the wind a’salting with spray
The sea is not angry
We are just not riding the swell
I could almost hear waves and smell salt and coastal vegetation as I read this! Thank you for taking me somewhere beautiful.
It makes me happy