Keith, the ending is so gorgeous I literally gasped out loud! Gorgeous and true. I love your language early in the poem about dropping into the woods and thereby dropping into yourself. I know that feeling so well. And the notion that you’re speaking by proxy through chickadees (who are maybe also speaking through you?) . . . so good!
This is so delightful! It has this magical, whimsical, slightly mysterious quality to it. I’m left with so many questions about Molly Rose and about the other attendees of coffee hour . . . but the fact that you’ve left me wanting to know more feels like part of the swirling, twirling magic of your poem and, I suspect, of Molly Rose!
Oh my, that trespassing sign! I’m glad you didn’t make it to heaven through either of the suggested means and are instead here with us. Your “acres-to-covenants” ratio made me laugh with its double meaning (to my ex-Mormon brain, anyway), and the ending is beautiful - “squint out the window at the promise of something wild on the other side.”
What a delightful poem, Rebekah! Your poem has a wonderful flow and arc, and I like the way you paint the picture of Sky Canyon and why you might avoid it--and then you surprise by actually turning in! I love your insight on HOA, and I wished I had come across the sign "(Prayer is the best way to get to heaven but trespassing is faster). Now, that's a sign folks in NH would post! Threatening, with a sense of humor! Thank you for the wonderful poem!
I really felt this in my body, the moment of stumbling upon the privacy fence with its...generous signage. I would have high-tailed it out of there and I somewhat codependently wanted you to high-tail it out of there, so I was glad to hear of you heading back to the sanctuary of home, where I hope you were greeted by a rousing performance from the coyote chorus and a morning manifestation of just the right kind of wild.
Like Larry, I really love the arc of your poem, but the end is my favourite - especially "but I was ready for home with its generous acres-to-covenants ratios and coyote chorus."
"have so far avoided incorporating it into my sense of place" struck a chord with me. So often I feel as if my entire state is hijacked by those who convey less than neighborly messages through signage and support of those who have come to represent hatred, fear, and malice. May we own and appreciate our senses of place even when we have to avert our eyes as we pass such blights on our otherwise lovely landscapes.
The repetition of “I spy / you spy” made me feel like a little girl again, and that little girl was delighted by the beautiful images in your poem! Pretty sure she’s outside now, tasting the rain.
I felt as if I need to clarify - though I guess I wouldn't really but Daisy - the name of the poem - is my daughter's cat and it was she I was observing as I wrote!
Oh Karri, this was such a treat for my senses, and my inner percussionist. I read it out loud to myself and loved its syllabic perfection. Are you a musician? I feel like this could easily be a song.
I feel such a connection with this - so much of it feels like I could've been looking out my own window. I love "little birds that congregate/ checking feeders for the seed/ that kept them through the winter."
I got the sense that this is a persona poem, written from the viewpoint of a cat (is Daisy a cat?) looking out a window...the imagery is both soothing a playful. I especially love the idea of the cedar trees gently swaying in the wind, their branches lightly dancing :))
Oooh, this was a thrilling poetic tryst! A true elevation of the mundane to the exquisite. I love the idea every droplet of water having lungs and wings and a heart beating in devotion to a patch of ground, and clouds kissing mud as you are caught in the energy of it all. So good!!! <3
Keith, so very gorgeous! I took a very short ten minute walk in the park but gagged at the Bradford pear trees and it was already sticky so I will live vicariously through your walk in the woods!
So lovely -- the idea of "this zone within the zone," the woods as your entry point into your fullest self, and all the magic that follows. I love all the sensory changing-of-the-season details, like "as thawing mud / tugs my boots" and "as pond's ice sighs / then yawns and stretches." Thanks for letting me come along on your walk with you!
This is so lovely, Keith. I can't get over the rhythm of your poetry and certain unexpected but gorgeous phrasing. I really love "by proxy of chickadees" and the imagery of mud tugging at your boots, and your shared realization of your belonging.
This is lovely Keith. Your poems paint such exquisite pictures. This one is truly immersive and absorbing from the first word. These early lines are so evocative and preparatory for the journey ahead.
"I’ve found no better means
for either/or
than to walk into the woods
then stop and drop
into synchronicity with
not just the woods but
all of me.
In this zone within the zone,
I hear
Breeze whisper to me
through each of the trees
then marvel as I reply
by proxy of chickadees"
This is so moving, and deep and whimsical like the chickadees! The ending is superb: Belonging, one of the essentials and one of the things folks from the more developed nations of the world seem to be yearning for.
Thanks very much, Larry - I agree, a sense of belonging seems hard to grasp in the WEIRD (Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich and Democratic) countries. I know I certainly yearn for a greater sense of belonging (hence the poem)!!
I’m smiling, too, because you’ve pulled me right into the fun and laughter and sweetness of this moment! The ending “I look back / feeling the moment / stretch, just a little” says so much so simply.
Tears as I read this....I'm glad my kids had those years with my dad as they were growing up - also a "Papa" - even thought he was gone too soon. Sweet memories.
This poems feels like a delicious snapshot in time -- three generations together in one place, laughing and playing -- but with the added depth of that contemplative moment at the end. Beautiful, A.
Thanks for sharing this moment, which feels like pure joy, with a sprinkle of the sort of silly that transcends age or any of the other barriers that can separate. I love the ending, too - feeling the moment stretch just a little :))
This is delightful, A.! What a magical, musical, joyful moment(s). I love this honest line: "I'm not sure who is more delighted, them, him, or me." And these lovely, telling lines, "and I look back, feeling the moment, stetch, just a little." Oh, if we could stretch these moments of joy and delight!
LIsa, you had me at "the fog is singing, it might be a love song." What a splendid poem, wonderfully attune and perceptive, observant and quietly beautiful. Your poems always strike a chord.
Thank you for the prompt. This is from our morning coffee hour, after service, watching the unique and deeply real Molly Rose, one of our first graders.
Molly Rose of Wakefield
Swirling, twirling, magic dancer;
Molly Rose spins in the center of coffee hour
tiny star in her own universe,
Her constellation of dream and fantasy
intersecting with the white water words all around her.
I felt deeply moved by your seeing of this 6 year-old shining star who it sounds has had no shortage of challenges that could have dimmed her shine. Some really clever combining of stellar and natural metaphor with the coffee hour scene, like "white water words." I also love how you bookend the poem with Molly spinning her magic.
Thank you Keith. Molly has a special connection, and is well loved by our community. She did ask me at coffee hour "where's my chocolate?" astutyely remembering that I had offered chocolate to anyone who could guess the movie which featured the song the choir sang today. She got it right! "Brother Where Art Thou?" and the song "Down to the River to Pray," an old spiritual. Her parents keep telling me "she's never seen the movie!"
Wow, that is quite the story - that she guessed the movie without having ever seen it seems to go way beyond precocious. I can see even more now why your poem painted her as stellar...she is 🌟
I love the play-by-play from both sides of the door, from the "mid knock freeze" to the wine going back into the bag to the "silent moon walk duet back to the car," all interspersed with the colorfulest color (symbolized). Great poem, Chuck.
Thank you, Karri! The birds were REALLY loud - I would have had to have been very tied up in my own mental knots to not be captivated by their invisible presence in the fog.
I love this poem, sis! We've had so many gray inversion days here this winter, and I confess I have not been thinking charitable thoughts about fog. What *gentle whimsy* in the idea of water droplets with lungs and wings and beating hearts, totally enamored by their one patch of ground. I am going to try to keep this in mind on the next gray day. :)
Sometimes I feel like I want to comment on everything about a poem and get overwhelmed so I don't say anything. But coming back to this today, I just wanted to say that your poem is enchanting, Lisa. The first two lines alone are so captivating. You paint such vivid pictures with your poetry. It's so beautiful.
I can't argue that, because everyone is so wonderfully kind and generous. Still, it's not for nothing that we wouldn't be together like this without you!
Keith, the ending is so gorgeous I literally gasped out loud! Gorgeous and true. I love your language early in the poem about dropping into the woods and thereby dropping into yourself. I know that feeling so well. And the notion that you’re speaking by proxy through chickadees (who are maybe also speaking through you?) . . . so good!
This is so delightful! It has this magical, whimsical, slightly mysterious quality to it. I’m left with so many questions about Molly Rose and about the other attendees of coffee hour . . . but the fact that you’ve left me wanting to know more feels like part of the swirling, twirling magic of your poem and, I suspect, of Molly Rose!
I didn't mean for this to happen, but I took a detour on my walk today into a neighborhood I always avoid. Here is what came out of it....
.
There’s a lot hiding
in these woods, like wolves
and cougars and bears
and, of all things, an HOA.
The fanged ones are
badges for me if I’m honest,
humble brags to townie friends
who ask me what I’ve gotten
on my game cam and
call me brave. But the HOA
is an A-framed, log-sided,
American-flagged storywrecker.
Nothing wild about an HOA,
even a redneck one hacked out
of pine and fir. So I never go there,
and whistle and avert my eyes
when I drive past, and have so far
avoided incorporating it into
my sense of place.
.
Only today, for the first time,
I took that cryptic right
on my favorite trail, the one
I knew would drop me
out of the silence and into
Sky Ranch.
.
There, I found barking dogs
and year-round Christmas lights
and innumerable outbuildings
and I got lost, and it wasn't
until I reached the well-signed
privacy fence (Prayer is the
best way to get to heaven but
trespassing is faster) that I filled in
all the blanks on my mental map
and knew which way to point
my shoes.
.
And I did appreciate their
willingness to share heaven with
trespassers – how Jesus might
shoot someone -- but I was ready
for home with its generous
acres-to-covenants ratio and
coyote chorus, where I wake myself
every morning by popping
my head up to squint out
the window at the promise
of something wild
on the other side.
Oh my, that trespassing sign! I’m glad you didn’t make it to heaven through either of the suggested means and are instead here with us. Your “acres-to-covenants” ratio made me laugh with its double meaning (to my ex-Mormon brain, anyway), and the ending is beautiful - “squint out the window at the promise of something wild on the other side.”
What a delightful poem, Rebekah! Your poem has a wonderful flow and arc, and I like the way you paint the picture of Sky Canyon and why you might avoid it--and then you surprise by actually turning in! I love your insight on HOA, and I wished I had come across the sign "(Prayer is the best way to get to heaven but trespassing is faster). Now, that's a sign folks in NH would post! Threatening, with a sense of humor! Thank you for the wonderful poem!
Haha, so true about that being a trespassing sign dear to the heart of the New Hampshirite!
I really felt this in my body, the moment of stumbling upon the privacy fence with its...generous signage. I would have high-tailed it out of there and I somewhat codependently wanted you to high-tail it out of there, so I was glad to hear of you heading back to the sanctuary of home, where I hope you were greeted by a rousing performance from the coyote chorus and a morning manifestation of just the right kind of wild.
Like Larry, I really love the arc of your poem, but the end is my favourite - especially "but I was ready for home with its generous acres-to-covenants ratios and coyote chorus."
My mental map.....🙂
"have so far avoided incorporating it into my sense of place" struck a chord with me. So often I feel as if my entire state is hijacked by those who convey less than neighborly messages through signage and support of those who have come to represent hatred, fear, and malice. May we own and appreciate our senses of place even when we have to avert our eyes as we pass such blights on our otherwise lovely landscapes.
Daisy
I spy
You spy
Little birds that congregate
Checking feeders for the seed
That kept them through the winter.
I spy
You spy
Drops of rain that gently fall
Just a drizzle now and then
Not quite yet spring showers.
I spy
You spy
Rustling in the cedar trees
Gentle swaying in the wind
Branches lightly dancing.
I spy
You spy
The world through a window pane
Even on a dreary day
Nature entertains you.
The repetition of “I spy / you spy” made me feel like a little girl again, and that little girl was delighted by the beautiful images in your poem! Pretty sure she’s outside now, tasting the rain.
I felt as if I need to clarify - though I guess I wouldn't really but Daisy - the name of the poem - is my daughter's cat and it was she I was observing as I wrote!
Oh Karri, this was such a treat for my senses, and my inner percussionist. I read it out loud to myself and loved its syllabic perfection. Are you a musician? I feel like this could easily be a song.
Only in that I listen to music - lol! Thank you!
I feel such a connection with this - so much of it feels like I could've been looking out my own window. I love "little birds that congregate/ checking feeders for the seed/ that kept them through the winter."
I got the sense that this is a persona poem, written from the viewpoint of a cat (is Daisy a cat?) looking out a window...the imagery is both soothing a playful. I especially love the idea of the cedar trees gently swaying in the wind, their branches lightly dancing :))
Oooh, this was a thrilling poetic tryst! A true elevation of the mundane to the exquisite. I love the idea every droplet of water having lungs and wings and a heart beating in devotion to a patch of ground, and clouds kissing mud as you are caught in the energy of it all. So good!!! <3
Here's what your prompt evoked for me:
Peeping is to the eyes
what eavesdropping is to the ears.
I’ve found no better means
for either/or
than to walk into the woods
then stop and drop
into synchronicity with
not just the woods but
all of me.
In this zone within the zone,
I hear
breeze whisper to me
through each of the trees
then marvel as I reply
by proxy of chickadees
I see
sun glisten on the brook,
feel it, smell it underfoot
as thawing mud
tugs my boots.
I listen
as pond’s ice sighs
then yawns and stretches.
And before I know it,
in the space between
the grace of it all,
I understand that I am not
peeping
nor eavesdropping,
I am belonging.
Keith, so very gorgeous! I took a very short ten minute walk in the park but gagged at the Bradford pear trees and it was already sticky so I will live vicariously through your walk in the woods!
Ooooph, Sorry to hear that the Bradford pear harshed on your mellow, Karri! Glad you got a little vicarious enjoyment out of my walk. <3
OMG they reek - and they are planted every 6 feet around here. LOL!!
😝
So lovely -- the idea of "this zone within the zone," the woods as your entry point into your fullest self, and all the magic that follows. I love all the sensory changing-of-the-season details, like "as thawing mud / tugs my boots" and "as pond's ice sighs / then yawns and stretches." Thanks for letting me come along on your walk with you!
Thanks for coming along for the walk, Rebekah :))
This is so lovely, Keith. I can't get over the rhythm of your poetry and certain unexpected but gorgeous phrasing. I really love "by proxy of chickadees" and the imagery of mud tugging at your boots, and your shared realization of your belonging.
Thanks so much, A. I am so happy to hear this feedback :))
This is lovely Keith. Your poems paint such exquisite pictures. This one is truly immersive and absorbing from the first word. These early lines are so evocative and preparatory for the journey ahead.
"I’ve found no better means
for either/or
than to walk into the woods
then stop and drop
into synchronicity with
not just the woods but
all of me.
In this zone within the zone,
I hear
Breeze whisper to me
through each of the trees
then marvel as I reply
by proxy of chickadees"
This is so moving, and deep and whimsical like the chickadees! The ending is superb: Belonging, one of the essentials and one of the things folks from the more developed nations of the world seem to be yearning for.
Thanks very much, Larry - I agree, a sense of belonging seems hard to grasp in the WEIRD (Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich and Democratic) countries. I know I certainly yearn for a greater sense of belonging (hence the poem)!!
I like that acronym: WIERD!
It pulls you in.
We had a visit with my parents today, and the kids had this moment with my dad that had us all laughing and smiling.
Giggles spill
from little lungs
as their Papa leans back,
again and again,
gently squashing them
against the cushion.
I'm not sure who is
more delighted -
them, or him, or me.
Beside me,
my sister says,
"my cheeks hurt"
as my mom holds
up a camera,
and I look back,
feeling the moment
stretch, just a little.
I’m smiling, too, because you’ve pulled me right into the fun and laughter and sweetness of this moment! The ending “I look back / feeling the moment / stretch, just a little” says so much so simply.
Cheeks hurt.
Remember the last time your cheeks hurt? from giggling? Excellent.
Tears as I read this....I'm glad my kids had those years with my dad as they were growing up - also a "Papa" - even thought he was gone too soon. Sweet memories.
I'm sure it never feels like enough time, but having moments like this is something I'll always be grateful for.
And they will always remember those moments too - no matter their ages or how ordinary those times might seem!
This poems feels like a delicious snapshot in time -- three generations together in one place, laughing and playing -- but with the added depth of that contemplative moment at the end. Beautiful, A.
Thanks for sharing this moment, which feels like pure joy, with a sprinkle of the sort of silly that transcends age or any of the other barriers that can separate. I love the ending, too - feeling the moment stretch just a little :))
This is delightful, A.! What a magical, musical, joyful moment(s). I love this honest line: "I'm not sure who is more delighted, them, him, or me." And these lovely, telling lines, "and I look back, feeling the moment, stetch, just a little." Oh, if we could stretch these moments of joy and delight!
Hey.
Before I start peeking,
I do want to say
The support and the good fellowship in here
Is amazing.
I feel the same way!!
You are good peeps, Chuck!
I wholeheartedly agree! This has been such a wonderful addition to my life.
LIsa, you had me at "the fog is singing, it might be a love song." What a splendid poem, wonderfully attune and perceptive, observant and quietly beautiful. Your poems always strike a chord.
Thank you for the prompt. This is from our morning coffee hour, after service, watching the unique and deeply real Molly Rose, one of our first graders.
Molly Rose of Wakefield
Swirling, twirling, magic dancer;
Molly Rose spins in the center of coffee hour
tiny star in her own universe,
Her constellation of dream and fantasy
intersecting with the white water words all around her.
In the rolling waves of her movements
there is no more pain, no more short breaths,
no sudden seizures or mystery falls,
nor invasive tests or countless probing.
There is only this moment,
beautifully timeless and
delightfully still,
mindful presence and joyful realness,
spinning into a future
Where all the monsters are gone.
And thank you so much for your kind words, Larry! You have a gift for making others feel appreciated.
I felt deeply moved by your seeing of this 6 year-old shining star who it sounds has had no shortage of challenges that could have dimmed her shine. Some really clever combining of stellar and natural metaphor with the coffee hour scene, like "white water words." I also love how you bookend the poem with Molly spinning her magic.
Thank you Keith. Molly has a special connection, and is well loved by our community. She did ask me at coffee hour "where's my chocolate?" astutyely remembering that I had offered chocolate to anyone who could guess the movie which featured the song the choir sang today. She got it right! "Brother Where Art Thou?" and the song "Down to the River to Pray," an old spiritual. Her parents keep telling me "she's never seen the movie!"
I absolutely love that song and what a story! I assume she received her chocolate?
Absolutely Karri! I am known as the Chocolate 🍫 bringer!
Wow, that is quite the story - that she guessed the movie without having ever seen it seems to go way beyond precocious. I can see even more now why your poem painted her as stellar...she is 🌟
She has a cosmic connection!
What a lovely poem for Molly Rose! What a precious soul she must be!
Thank you Karri! She is for sure, and her family are gems and peaches!
This is a beautiful poem, Larry, and such a sweet tribute to Molly Rose. She sounds like a pretty special little girl.
Thank you Rebekah! That she is!
I love that you chose to capture this joyful moment, Larry. Molly sounds wonderful.
Thank you A! She is a shining star! She just went skiing for the first time this week!
(colorful) (sorry)
(9 am: color edit)
"what the @#$% were you THINKING!!??"
*
.mid knock freeze at the front door.
.wine bottle retreats to parade rest.
*
"dam-dam-dammmm-itttttttt!!!!!
"You're a @#$-ing idiot"
"my mom was right"
*
eyes going wide,
we gawk a silent "uh-oh" at each other
*
"@#$% you and @#$% her"
"I can't take this shit anymore"
*
Karen slips the wine back into the bag.
*
"but you promised"
"no more @#$%-ing ballgames."
"you PROM--ISSED--ME!!!!!!!"
" i hate you"
*
as my wife & i gyrate a silent moon walk duet back to the car, an explosion of some big glass something pierces the air.
*
I love the play-by-play from both sides of the door, from the "mid knock freeze" to the wine going back into the bag to the "silent moon walk duet back to the car," all interspersed with the colorfulest color (symbolized). Great poem, Chuck.
Thanks.
i censored myself.
Coward.
☺️
Your narration of your and Karen's reactions really makes this poem, Chuck.
Ah Lisa, what a lovely description of what I would consider (as I wrote in my own work), a dreary day. What magic you found in the mist!
Thank you, Karri! The birds were REALLY loud - I would have had to have been very tied up in my own mental knots to not be captivated by their invisible presence in the fog.
I love this poem, sis! We've had so many gray inversion days here this winter, and I confess I have not been thinking charitable thoughts about fog. What *gentle whimsy* in the idea of water droplets with lungs and wings and beating hearts, totally enamored by their one patch of ground. I am going to try to keep this in mind on the next gray day. :)
I’m blushing at your bestowal of the much coveted label “gentle whimsy.”
If only a certain sisterly someone were here to also catch the reference!
Sometimes I feel like I want to comment on everything about a poem and get overwhelmed so I don't say anything. But coming back to this today, I just wanted to say that your poem is enchanting, Lisa. The first two lines alone are so captivating. You paint such vivid pictures with your poetry. It's so beautiful.
Thank you so much, A! I really appreciate that. Like must humans, I’m a sucker for validation, and this community feels like the best, warmest hug.
It really does! I'm so grateful you invited us here and created this beautiful space.
It is 100% co-created and wouldn’t be what it is without each of you.
I can't argue that, because everyone is so wonderfully kind and generous. Still, it's not for nothing that we wouldn't be together like this without you!