Poetry has been so far off my to do list lately that it hurts. But this week in class, teaching EFL students here for the summer, the lesson was writing haiku.
I joined them.
1.
The blackberry bush
Temptingly beckons the child
Fierce thorns guard the prize.
2.
Petrichor rises
The maple leaves turn their backs
Nature huddles tight.
(I just wanted to use petrichor in a poem.)
Daughter of Behn
Tuesday, June 25, 2019
Wednesday, April 4, 2018
For MLK, 50 Years After the Outrage
"For MLK, 50 Years After the Outrage"
I am older now than you ever got to be.
So young, too young, so much more to do.
But I was a child then, you the elder.
Your legacy shaped my life.
So much so that I, too,
am the Reverend Doctor.
The doctor so I can educate;
The reverend so that I can
more fully embrace the duty of Love
I owe my brothers and sisters.
The path you laid out is not easy.
Hate is so much easier than Love;
But Love so much more worth the effort.
I have tried, Reverend Doctor,
to be the sister you deserve.
To teach, to lead, to keep up the fight,
until our children live in a world
in which they are judged for their
characters, not their skin color.
I pray I live to see the world you envisioned,
And pray that when we meet someday, both
on the other side, you will smile, and know
that your words fell on fertile ground.
But today, 50 years on, I mourn the life
that ignorance brutally ended.
Until we meet in glory, dear brother,
I endeavor to keep your legacy alive.
Rest in power, Brother Martin. With love.
Tuesday, April 3, 2018
Pretty
Pretty
You are so pretty
But
cut your nose
cut your fat
cut your hair.
You are so pretty
But
tweeze your
eyebrows
perm
your hair
stand
up straighter
You are so pretty
But
dye your
hair
bleach
your teeth
fix
that chin.
I am so pretty.
But when I look in the mirror
A stranger looks back.
Sunday, April 1, 2018
NaPoWriMo #1 Apostate's Alleluia
Apostate’s Alleluia
Today we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus
who rose from the dead like so many gods before Him.
But we don’t talk about that, because, of course
He is the One True God. And for a long time, I believed.
I still Believe in Jesus being a true God. But also ask:
Is there really One True God?
I think not.
There is a Creator, beyond comprehension.
Beyond gender, beyond race, beyond human.
But humans love putting face on the Divine,
so that our feeble brains can understand.
So “God” appears in different guises
in different times to different cultures.
Baldr died and rose again, but not to save from Death.
As did Inanna, who returned after three days.
Osiris, dead at his jealous brother’s hand, returned
thanks to a desperate wife’s love and magic.
But humans can be petty creatures.
Their god is “the” god. They will
fight to the death, torture, maim, murder
to deny others their right to believe.
Love Incarnate will ultimately triumph
but meanwhile, this apostate cries:
“Alleluia, He is Risen! Let all be Blessed!
“Alleluia, Love is with us. Amen”
Labels:
Baldr,
Creator,
Divine Love,
Easter,
humans,
Inanna,
Jesus,
Love Incarnate,
NaPoWriMo,
Osiris
Saturday, March 31, 2018
Tomorrow Starts NaPoWriMo 2018
I want to wish all my NaPoWriMo friends the best of luck in this year's quest to write 30 poems in 30 days.
I'm hoping to join the fun, but with so much on my plate, I'm not going to beat myself up if I can't do it.
But I am certainly looking forward to reading an outpouring of wonderful poetry!
Enjoy the month!!
I'm hoping to join the fun, but with so much on my plate, I'm not going to beat myself up if I can't do it.
But I am certainly looking forward to reading an outpouring of wonderful poetry!
Enjoy the month!!
Sunday, April 23, 2017
Finding Peace
"Finding Peace"
Surrounded by chaos
I search for peace.
It cannot come from outside,
but must be found within.
I do the usual—
prayer, laughter,
yoga, breathing
meditation, reiki,
Ayurvedic herbs—
OK, perhaps not all
that usual—and this helps.
But not as much, I find
as a cup of good, well-brewed
tea, taken from a china pot,
sipped from a thin porcelain
cup with saucer, all adorned
with my beloved violets. Sitting
in a quiet room, watching
rain pour down, turning the
tiny creek behind the house
into a rushing stream, while
surrounded by cats and a dog.
There, in the quiet stillness,
gazing on the green lushness of
Spring in the rain, surrounded
by uncomplicated love, enjoying
a perfect cup of tea,
I find peace.
It fills me up, pushing out
the stress, the worry,
the complications that fill
my life. The depleted tank
of compassion is refilled.
I think of Love, of Art,
of Poetry, and am calm.
Peaceful. Healed. Restored.
Ready to once again face the world,
give of my time, my knowledge,
my love. Making the world better,
more peaceful, more loving,
until once again, it is time
to retreat to my tea, my quiet,
my companions and find peace.
Saturday, April 22, 2017
“Carson-Newman College, Summer ‘78”
I have missed over a week thanks to a challenge at work, and even tonight, I cheat. I wrote this for Napowrimo 4 years ago. But today's march for science made me remember this girl.
“Carson-Newman College, Summer ‘78”
Once upon a time, I was a girl who wrote a paper on
“The Effects of Triacontanol on the Total Lipid Content of Wheat Plants.”
Triacontanol, a fatty alcohol, C30H62O.
Once I could even draw a picture of its molecules.
Cutting edge research back then. Something new to help food yields.
National Science Foundation, Summer Science Training Program.
Working in a team, we each took a component: protein, lipids, carbohydrates.
But first we grew the wheat from seed, carefully applying different concentrations.
On the roof of the science building, a greenhouse hot as blazes.
Plants needed nurturing: watered twice a day, fed, measured, protected.
Mice loved to eat the tender green shoots. Dr. Naylor killed one with a broom.
One hard thwack and no more mouse. His glee at its death shook me badly.
Then harvested, ground, lipids extracted. The hood fan was off;
I entertained lab mates with half-mast eyes and slurred speech.
Gas chromatography to do the counts.
Preparing the plates for the reading took a day. Palest blue polymer gel.
Who was that girl? Just reading the specs of a chromatograph today
Leaves my eyes glazed. What happened to her? She loved being in the lab.
Loved using the words that sounded so smart because deep down, she was, too.
But rarely got the chance to show it.
That small Baptist school in a little Tennessee town ironically liberating.
Her first taste of what it was like to be one of many instead of one alone.
That once upon a time girl retreated to the comfort of words.
After a scientific start, majored in English: a 180° turn occasionally regretted.
If honest, more often than occasionally lately. The humanities will kill you.
Today I am a woman who tells students, females especially:
STEM, the only way to go. Science, technology, engineering, math.
If you want a job, remember STEM. I am glad to be that woman.
But where was she when I needed her to remind me
Of the joy of donning a lab coat, goggles and gloves?
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