The Politeness of BirdsI am 541 miles from the coast, but tall grass ripples like waves, and a stout wind makes seashells of my ears— they roar an ocean of sound. You say we’re landlocked, but the birds, I think, would disagree and politely tip a wing to you before sailing away on a swell of heat.
This is so vivid, Chuck. I mean, I can’t really think of a more uniquely grabby image than “innocent spears of asparagus suspended in a cloudy concoction of lime jello and coconut milk.” You don’t mention grief or heartbreak but it feels to me like they are tucked into every colorful, compelling image of this poem, just like that asparagus in the jello. Thank you for sharing. And I’m so sorry that this is a page you had to turn. ❤️
This is wonderful, Chuck. And I gotta say, though that dessert must have been disturbing coming from your master chef mama, and likely not tasty, only an artist would think to put those items together. Here's to Ruth!
Man, the last line really stuck the landing on what was already a visceral view of decline. You really nailed it, Chuck. And bravely so. Thanks for sharing this.
What a hard season this must have been, Chuck. You have a talent for sharing raw words about hard topics with a mixture of humour and acceptance(perhaps resignation?) that often leaves me at a loss for words.
This is wonderfully cooked, Chuck. The vivid nature of your writing is so strong here, and you blend ordinary events into creative dishes of delight, weaving a clear eyed reality with a sweet tenderness. It takes a special spirit to move through these changes and shifting of our loved ones with such depth and clarity. Thank you for sharing.
This made me emotional. I think maybe I've been squatting in "why me?" a bit too long lately. I love "in a cosmos that delivers beauty and blows blindly (if not kindly) to every last one of us" and then the end where you laugh and flap like a bird and set yourself free. Thank you for this, Rebekah.
I love that your companions were TLC <3...and that in revisiting the memory, you encountered "a gale not troll-hearted, only wild." A beautiful reframe of what once felt monstrous (at least in part).
1. Had to google what a saddle was in this situation.
2. Also googled Tehachapi.
3. Realized that regardless of the context, we all have been in the situation where we squat in why me? And the answer is so often why not me. I am having to give myself a bit of 'get over it' lately (as A said) and have found the laughing and flapping does really help in setting oneself free.
This is so wonderful, Rebekah. You have such a gift for connecting a reader so vividly to the natural world, and to what you are and have experienced. I have spent plenty of time in the "why me" place, and I like the way you move from that place into the wilder place within and without. The next to last stanza is magnificient. Thank you for this gem.
I had the exact same experience as Lisa with this one, A. The sensation/memory you've shared is so immersive. It's wild and tender and haunting and cozy and charged all at once... how did you do that?
This was visceral to me as well. The anticipation and the parental "education" for lack of a better word about what nature has in store to make you more aware of the world around you.
Tears here too and I'm not sure why but that okay :)
This is an incredible poem, A. It is so evocative, lyrical and beautiful. I could feel the wind and the coming of rain as I read it over. And your description of goosebumps, which have always fascinated me, is spot on. I love your response to the rain when it comes, and the anticipation and excitement your Dad and you felt with the weather changing around you. You brought me right there, and conjured my own childhood memories as well. You are an excellent poet, and I love this one!
Every 22nd of the month reminds me of the 22 soldiers/veterans that daily take their own lives. Many challenges involved in trying to change this. Lyrics to a song I wrote 4 years ago, searching for some sort of way to help.
Tears over here, too, Billy. My husband is a veteran and he's lost 4 men from the unit he served in to suicide over the last decade or so. It's unconscionable to send so many people to war and abandon them when [if] they come home. Thank you for caring and speaking up about it.
This is a wonderful song, Billy. I hear you on every line, and love the connection to that classic line in A Few Good Men. I have so many veterans in my family, community, work life and friend life, and know the real toll military service can take. And as your song describes, we’ve never served our Vets as well as they have served us, despite decades of promises. I’d like to hear you sing this! Thank you for sharing.
Billy, I would like to donate a small sum - maybe 22 dollars -to a veteran's organization in your honor if you wouldn't mind. I have a small amount bookmarked every month for various things that come up and this spoke to me. Do you have a preference/knowledge of a worthy organization where it would be best used?
I found your poem deeply moving, Lisa. It captured so beautifully the miraculous way in which the natural world shatters any perceptions of limitation we have contrived with our human minds. I also thrilled at the way you structured it to evoke the imagery of birds' wings. So lovely. And this line: "a stout wind makes seashells of my ears." <gasps at the loveliness of this>.
Here's what emerged for me as I pondered the prompt:
What a treasure of a poem! The pace felt lovely and leisurely, like I was out for a stroll amongst the bees and apple blossoms, and then the pace and vibe seemed to shift when I reached "without warning," so that it felt like I was stepping through that long-shut door, too. You managed to bring what feels like such a beautiful, bittersweet memory to life, with all the glee of your child self, as well as the perspective of your adult self. I love the ending lines (beginning with "as I romp, I am trailing / particles of hope") sooo much.
I don't even know where to begin - those first five lines have such a sweetness and I love the way you describe your unlocked memory so literally. The ending feels a bit bittersweet, simply because the heaviness is there to begin with, and because you both, in your own ways, needed freeing. It's such a beautiful poem for what feels like a happy (if complicated) memory. I don't think I'll be able to get over that breeze, perfumed and tinged and teeming with bees.
Thank you so much for this thoughtful reflection, A. It is exactly that - a happy, if complicated memory. A good snapshot of the overall feeling of my connection with my mother. I'm so glad you liked the breeze...bees dance. :))
What a tactile, lovely poem, Keith. The scent-memory you introduce at the beginning is so visceral that for a moment I got confused when I couldn't actually smell it. (I'm craving it now, I think I need to go find an orchard!) "Trailing particles of hope" and the idea of early spring still shouldering winter's heavy mantle until at last everyone is freed -- I feel this so completely.
This is delightful and lovely, Keith. You paint such beautiful images with your words, and have a very special gift from drawing us in, moving with you and feeling the poem in our spirits and bones. Thank you for your feeling, connecting being!
I feel far behind on our prompts lately, or perhaps the flow of words is slowing down. An early morning walk before work on Earth Day brought back memories of a hike in Wind Cave National Park in South Dakota in 2014.
Sounds on the Wind
Early morning walk across emerging spring meadow,
blue sky finally arriving, signs of spring
hints of warmth arousing my senses
stirring memories of other meadows, other fields.
Climbing up on Highland Creek trail
coming out of river valley through ponderosa pines,
the stillness of silence carved into wind
breaking forth into grassy hills and meadows,
sweet homecoming of a place never seen.
Solitude and shelter blended as one,
a lone hiker listens through the wind
and the sound comes clear;
Sweet chirping whistle, looking up for the bird
that birthed this sweet song,
until I realize the music is all around me
wrapped in sacred story of the earth.
A chorus of prairie dogs telegraph my entry,
communication network birthed centuries ago
a protection network for these small peeping beings
stewards of the meadows and all that lay within.
Human invasion into bucolic scene,
I am walking through their home, not mine,
speaking a language I can’t understand,
I stand still and open my heart to listen.
In this land of wind and simple beauty,
the cries of peoples long buried
under generations of genocide;
Wild beasts clinging to a life unalterably changed,
I breath into the sultry summer sky.
Cresting green hills perched above ancient river valley,
I look back from where I came
then ahead to the trail yet to travel,
never quite sure which direction will bring me home.
“Until I realize the music is all around me” - this line grabbed me in a big warm hug. Today was one of those days when my brain got noisy and it was harder to hear and feel the magic that is drumming in and around and through every moment. Reading that line of your beautiful poem, I could suddenly hear and feel the music again. Thank you, Larry!
This is another of your poems that conveys a deep sense of spiritual connection made with a landscape, the souls of the people born and died of that land, and the collective trauma of human infractions against land and people. I feel it, Larry.
I truly love this poem--of course, I seem to love all your poems, but this one is so sweet and sensual in the broad sense of that word! The ending is beautiful:
"And anyway, if we are
locked into anything,
how is it
that I’m feeling
everything
at once? "
I am so inspired and amazed with how you come up with such insightful, powerful and resonating lines, whether the poem is short, medium, or long! This poem is so magnificient in how it relates the birds and the senses of the natural world to connect us to places in our lives and also to other landscapes, such as the connection you may feel to the coast even 541 miles in. Or the connection I may feel to wilderness and natural areas in northern Canada and Alaska even though they may be distant. Though I may never physically seem them, there is a connection and a passion for their conservation, preservation and good health. Thank you Lisa!!!!
Thank you so much, Larry! Your comment makes me think of a conservation video I watched as an undergrad that talked about the comfort of knowing that wild places exist, whether or not you get to visit them. At the time I couldn’t relate with that sense of comfort at all, but now I feel it deeply. Whether or not I am physically there, I feel a sense of comfort and connection in the existence of other landscapes, especially wild ones. Also, I love Alaska!!!! Rebekah and I went there together in 2013, and I’ve been hoping to go back every since.
What a lovely memory and a vivid portrait of those birds! Funny how one sound (or smell or sight) can trigger such an experience. And that line "how is it that I'm feeling everything at once?" pure truth there!
Yup.
There were plenty of other signs.
Mysterious new car dents
TV locked on CNN, 24-7.
Moldy krap appearing in the reefer.
Her self proclaimed CRS.
Hiding both sets of false teeth
deep in the sofa.
I would just roll my eyes,
shake my head
Oh, MOM.
giggle it off.
It was easier than turning that page.
But, yes,
It was the innocent
spears of asparagus
suspended in a cloudy concoction of lime jello
& coconut milk
that she served for desert
That confirmed my tex mex master chef matriarch was slipping away. To everything there is a season.
Ready or not.
This is so vivid, Chuck. I mean, I can’t really think of a more uniquely grabby image than “innocent spears of asparagus suspended in a cloudy concoction of lime jello and coconut milk.” You don’t mention grief or heartbreak but it feels to me like they are tucked into every colorful, compelling image of this poem, just like that asparagus in the jello. Thank you for sharing. And I’m so sorry that this is a page you had to turn. ❤️
This is wonderful, Chuck. And I gotta say, though that dessert must have been disturbing coming from your master chef mama, and likely not tasty, only an artist would think to put those items together. Here's to Ruth!
Man, the last line really stuck the landing on what was already a visceral view of decline. You really nailed it, Chuck. And bravely so. Thanks for sharing this.
What a hard season this must have been, Chuck. You have a talent for sharing raw words about hard topics with a mixture of humour and acceptance(perhaps resignation?) that often leaves me at a loss for words.
Thank you for your kind words.
Yeah, I think we most all have to get to that page, sooner or later.
Her name was Ruth.
(& sorry this is really ruff)
(even 4 me)(🙂)
(I hit the go button instead of the fix it button)
I feel this for you and with you. We turned this page with my mom, too (Josie). There were many "asparagus moments" that were ruff and tuff. <3
Thank you for sharing a bit of Ruth with us!
This is wonderfully cooked, Chuck. The vivid nature of your writing is so strong here, and you blend ordinary events into creative dishes of delight, weaving a clear eyed reality with a sweet tenderness. It takes a special spirit to move through these changes and shifting of our loved ones with such depth and clarity. Thank you for sharing.
Thank u .
That's what asparagus does for me.
Oh yes! I dreaded as a kid, and grew to love it as an adult!
Ready or not....the acceptance of the reality is so very difficult. I'm so sorry you had to turn that page and thank you for sharing her with us.
Rough one. Turn, turn, turn. Visceral is right on.
Big, tree-seizing wind
always plants me at
that one saddle
north of Tehachapi,
on good young legs that tried
and tried, but could not
deliver.
.
I got knocked down, I got
flipped onto rocks, I got
rolled. The gusts were
monstrous breakers
sent by the Pacific to break
me. I sat down leeward,
bled a little, and cried.
.
Along came T and L,
and they were laughing and
flapping their arms,
refusing to register
the malevolence in the air.
They barely slowed,
just hauled me up
by a loop on my pack
and towed me across.
.
C once said,
“Whenever I think
why me?
I stop and ask myself,
well, who should it
happen to instead?”
.
I sometimes squat in
why me? But on my
good days, I am carried back
to Tehachapi (now thrumming
with turbines), where I
climb that battered bluff
to find a small, sad human
in a gale not troll-hearted,
only wild,
in a cosmos that delivers
beauty and blows blindly
(if not kindly)
to
every
last
one of us.
.
I laugh and flap
and set myself
free.
This made me emotional. I think maybe I've been squatting in "why me?" a bit too long lately. I love "in a cosmos that delivers beauty and blows blindly (if not kindly) to every last one of us" and then the end where you laugh and flap like a bird and set yourself free. Thank you for this, Rebekah.
Oh thank you, A! I'm so glad it meant something to you.
I love that your companions were TLC <3...and that in revisiting the memory, you encountered "a gale not troll-hearted, only wild." A beautiful reframe of what once felt monstrous (at least in part).
Oh ha -- TLC! I didn't even think of that. Once again you've made my poem bigger, Keith -- thank you!
It is most definitely your cleverness, whether fully conscious or subliminal! :))
1. Had to google what a saddle was in this situation.
2. Also googled Tehachapi.
3. Realized that regardless of the context, we all have been in the situation where we squat in why me? And the answer is so often why not me. I am having to give myself a bit of 'get over it' lately (as A said) and have found the laughing and flapping does really help in setting oneself free.
This is so wonderful, Rebekah. You have such a gift for connecting a reader so vividly to the natural world, and to what you are and have experienced. I have spent plenty of time in the "why me" place, and I like the way you move from that place into the wilder place within and without. The next to last stanza is magnificient. Thank you for this gem.
When electricity
and anticipation
stir the air,
when the pale
undersides and
sussuration of
leaves announce
themselves as
the wind kicks up
and blows cool,
when shivers
and goosebumps
tickle and trail
along flesh,
when the quiet
pause gives way
to sighing skies,
and all at once
the rush of rain
brings forth
a muffled hush
and drowns out
the wider world;
.
I am a child,
at the edge of
a covered porch,
and my dad is saying
"do you feel that?"
as the air changes
and clouds move in,
and he points up
toward the leaves
as they turn over,
and I am rubbing at
the bumps on my arms,
and I am holding
my breath until
I almost think nothing
is going to happen at all...
and then the rain falls,
and I am gasping
at the force of it,
and I am giggling
as it splashes my toes,
and everything else
has disappeared.
A, your poem gave me goosebumps, and reading it, everything else disappeared! It’s just beautiful!
Thank you so much, Lisa. Your poems and prompts have pulled so many things out of me that I may have never written otherwise, and I'm so grateful.
That makes my heart happy!
I had the exact same experience as Lisa with this one, A. The sensation/memory you've shared is so immersive. It's wild and tender and haunting and cozy and charged all at once... how did you do that?
This feels like such an incredible compliment, and I have no idea how to respond to it. 😂 Thank you so much.
Really beautiful, evocative imagery, A. I could smell the pre-rain as I read this. So well done :))
This was visceral to me as well. The anticipation and the parental "education" for lack of a better word about what nature has in store to make you more aware of the world around you.
Tears here too and I'm not sure why but that okay :)
Wow. Tears. Perfect.
This is an incredible poem, A. It is so evocative, lyrical and beautiful. I could feel the wind and the coming of rain as I read it over. And your description of goosebumps, which have always fascinated me, is spot on. I love your response to the rain when it comes, and the anticipation and excitement your Dad and you felt with the weather changing around you. You brought me right there, and conjured my own childhood memories as well. You are an excellent poet, and I love this one!
Every 22nd of the month reminds me of the 22 soldiers/veterans that daily take their own lives. Many challenges involved in trying to change this. Lyrics to a song I wrote 4 years ago, searching for some sort of way to help.
https://open.substack.com/pub/billy2r6q7/p/22?r=1nyjrs&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web
Wow, that’s a lot to hold - and it needs and deserves to be held. Thank you so much for sharing this, Billy!
Very heavy but needs to be shared. Thanks for what you do with this group. Poetry/Art/Community/Prayer-definitely helps people heal.
Tears over here, too, Billy. My husband is a veteran and he's lost 4 men from the unit he served in to suicide over the last decade or so. It's unconscionable to send so many people to war and abandon them when [if] they come home. Thank you for caring and speaking up about it.
I’m sorry to hear about the soldiers in your husband’s unit. Keeping your husband in thought and prayer. War destroys in so many ways.
Such powerful lyrics, Billy - and this kind of activism through art strikes me as truly awesome. The pen is mightier than the sword. Truth.
This is a wonderful song, Billy. I hear you on every line, and love the connection to that classic line in A Few Good Men. I have so many veterans in my family, community, work life and friend life, and know the real toll military service can take. And as your song describes, we’ve never served our Vets as well as they have served us, despite decades of promises. I’d like to hear you sing this! Thank you for sharing.
Billy, I would like to donate a small sum - maybe 22 dollars -to a veteran's organization in your honor if you wouldn't mind. I have a small amount bookmarked every month for various things that come up and this spoke to me. Do you have a preference/knowledge of a worthy organization where it would be best used?
Very thoughtful and kind Karri. You don’t need to donate in my honor, maybe to one of your loved ones who served. https://mission22.com/give/
Thank you for the link!
I found your poem deeply moving, Lisa. It captured so beautifully the miraculous way in which the natural world shatters any perceptions of limitation we have contrived with our human minds. I also thrilled at the way you structured it to evoke the imagery of birds' wings. So lovely. And this line: "a stout wind makes seashells of my ears." <gasps at the loveliness of this>.
Here's what emerged for me as I pondered the prompt:
Breeze
mildly perfumed
by apple blossoms
tinged pink and
teeming febrile with bees
grazes my olfaction, then turns
sharply inward, springing the lock
of some long-shut door.
Without warning,
I am eight again, stomping puddles,
splashing tender tufts of green
in the old orchard.
I am gleeful and giddy and
as I romp, I am trailing
particles of hope
picked up from the aerosol of
my mother’s exhalation when
winter’s heavy mantle at last
lifted from the shoulders
of spring,
freeing us both.
What a treasure of a poem! The pace felt lovely and leisurely, like I was out for a stroll amongst the bees and apple blossoms, and then the pace and vibe seemed to shift when I reached "without warning," so that it felt like I was stepping through that long-shut door, too. You managed to bring what feels like such a beautiful, bittersweet memory to life, with all the glee of your child self, as well as the perspective of your adult self. I love the ending lines (beginning with "as I romp, I am trailing / particles of hope") sooo much.
Thank you, friend! So glad to hear your experience as you moved through it with me :))
I don't even know where to begin - those first five lines have such a sweetness and I love the way you describe your unlocked memory so literally. The ending feels a bit bittersweet, simply because the heaviness is there to begin with, and because you both, in your own ways, needed freeing. It's such a beautiful poem for what feels like a happy (if complicated) memory. I don't think I'll be able to get over that breeze, perfumed and tinged and teeming with bees.
Thank you so much for this thoughtful reflection, A. It is exactly that - a happy, if complicated memory. A good snapshot of the overall feeling of my connection with my mother. I'm so glad you liked the breeze...bees dance. :))
Springing the lock. Captured the change in season and the emotion that comes with it so well.
Thanks, Billy..."springing" was completely subliminal on my part. Good catch!
What a tactile, lovely poem, Keith. The scent-memory you introduce at the beginning is so visceral that for a moment I got confused when I couldn't actually smell it. (I'm craving it now, I think I need to go find an orchard!) "Trailing particles of hope" and the idea of early spring still shouldering winter's heavy mantle until at last everyone is freed -- I feel this so completely.
Thanks, Rebekah - I hope you found yourself (or find yourself) a lovely orchard to get your olfactory craving sated ; )
This is delightful and lovely, Keith. You paint such beautiful images with your words, and have a very special gift from drawing us in, moving with you and feeling the poem in our spirits and bones. Thank you for your feeling, connecting being!
And thank you for your delightful and lovely feedback, Larry! It's truly gratifying to know you enjoyed my poem :))
I feel far behind on our prompts lately, or perhaps the flow of words is slowing down. An early morning walk before work on Earth Day brought back memories of a hike in Wind Cave National Park in South Dakota in 2014.
Sounds on the Wind
Early morning walk across emerging spring meadow,
blue sky finally arriving, signs of spring
hints of warmth arousing my senses
stirring memories of other meadows, other fields.
Climbing up on Highland Creek trail
coming out of river valley through ponderosa pines,
the stillness of silence carved into wind
breaking forth into grassy hills and meadows,
sweet homecoming of a place never seen.
Solitude and shelter blended as one,
a lone hiker listens through the wind
and the sound comes clear;
Sweet chirping whistle, looking up for the bird
that birthed this sweet song,
until I realize the music is all around me
wrapped in sacred story of the earth.
A chorus of prairie dogs telegraph my entry,
communication network birthed centuries ago
a protection network for these small peeping beings
stewards of the meadows and all that lay within.
Human invasion into bucolic scene,
I am walking through their home, not mine,
speaking a language I can’t understand,
I stand still and open my heart to listen.
In this land of wind and simple beauty,
the cries of peoples long buried
under generations of genocide;
Wild beasts clinging to a life unalterably changed,
I breath into the sultry summer sky.
Cresting green hills perched above ancient river valley,
I look back from where I came
then ahead to the trail yet to travel,
never quite sure which direction will bring me home.
Also, dear friend, there’s no falling behind here, just as there’s no getting ahead. I’m so glad you’re here!
“Until I realize the music is all around me” - this line grabbed me in a big warm hug. Today was one of those days when my brain got noisy and it was harder to hear and feel the magic that is drumming in and around and through every moment. Reading that line of your beautiful poem, I could suddenly hear and feel the music again. Thank you, Larry!
Thank you Lisa for reading with such keen and perceptive insight.
This is another of your poems that conveys a deep sense of spiritual connection made with a landscape, the souls of the people born and died of that land, and the collective trauma of human infractions against land and people. I feel it, Larry.
Thank you Keith. My awareness of my own poems is expanded and enhanced by your wonderful insights!
I love this and love the prompt too.
“You say we’re landlocked,
but the birds, I think,
would disagree”
Thank you so much, LeeAnn! If the prompt ends up sparking a poem for you and you care to share, I’d love to read it!
I love so much that your poem's shape echoes the flight of the birds you were writing about. I also deeply relate to feeling everything at once 😅
Haha, I’m so glad it’s not just me!!
Definitely not!
I truly love this poem--of course, I seem to love all your poems, but this one is so sweet and sensual in the broad sense of that word! The ending is beautiful:
"And anyway, if we are
locked into anything,
how is it
that I’m feeling
everything
at once? "
I am so inspired and amazed with how you come up with such insightful, powerful and resonating lines, whether the poem is short, medium, or long! This poem is so magnificient in how it relates the birds and the senses of the natural world to connect us to places in our lives and also to other landscapes, such as the connection you may feel to the coast even 541 miles in. Or the connection I may feel to wilderness and natural areas in northern Canada and Alaska even though they may be distant. Though I may never physically seem them, there is a connection and a passion for their conservation, preservation and good health. Thank you Lisa!!!!
Thank you so much, Larry! Your comment makes me think of a conservation video I watched as an undergrad that talked about the comfort of knowing that wild places exist, whether or not you get to visit them. At the time I couldn’t relate with that sense of comfort at all, but now I feel it deeply. Whether or not I am physically there, I feel a sense of comfort and connection in the existence of other landscapes, especially wild ones. Also, I love Alaska!!!! Rebekah and I went there together in 2013, and I’ve been hoping to go back every since.
I hope you do get back there’.
The urge to write, "of course, I seem to love all your poems, but..." here constantly is very strong 😂
100%! 😃
What a lovely memory and a vivid portrait of those birds! Funny how one sound (or smell or sight) can trigger such an experience. And that line "how is it that I'm feeling everything at once?" pure truth there!