Tag Archives: Poetry

A Princess And Her Prince

A few weeks ago we were blessed to welcome our sixth grandchild, Taylor, into our family. She recently turned a month old and, like her sister at the same age, enjoyed a little photo shoot with her favorite pillow rest, Bailey.

Her birth reminded me of one of my favorite poems by the French poet, Yves Bonnefoy. I thought I’d share part of it with you…

The All, The Nothing

Its the last snow of the season,
The spring snow-the most skilled
At mending the rips in the dead wood
Before it’s brought inside and burnt.

It’s the first snow of your life,
Since yesterday there were only dots
Of color, brief pleasures, fears, chagrins-
Without substance for lack of words.

And I can see joy overtaking the fear
In your eyes which amazement opened
In one great, bright leap; this cry, this laughter
That I love, and that I ponder….

May the big snow be for you, the all, the nothing,
Child trying out your first uncertain steps in the grass,
Your eyes still full of the origin,
Hands grabbing at nothing but the light.

May the gleaming branches be the words
You’ll have to listen to, not understanding
The meaning of their silhouette against the sky-
Otherwise you’d only name them at the price of losing.

May these two values, one sparkling, be enough for you,
Of the hill glimpsed through the opening between the trees,
Bee of life, when in your dreams of the world,
The world itself grows quiet.

And may the water that wells up in the shadow
Show you that joy can survive in dream,
Even when a breeze from who knows where
Is already scattering almond blossoms-and yet the other snow.

Enjoy a blessed life, Taylor

 

Perhaps Love

Thirty-five years ago John Denver wrote a song dedicated to his wife Annie. They were separated at the time and headed for divorce.
As he prepared to record the song, someone decided it would be a good idea to pair a country singer with a Spanish tenor. So John Denver and Placido Domingo got together in a studio and recorded what I believe is one of the most beautiful love songs ever written.
Though it only had modest commercial success, rising to 59 on the billboard 100 and 22 on the on adult chart, it has sold over four million copies.

On this Sunday morning, following another difficult week in our world, I think we can all find time for a moment of love. What better way than through music.

Remembering Love

You won’t remember this.

Sitting on my lap and laughing at
something only you understand,
your hands come up to my face as you
bounce up and down on my lap and then
gently lay your head on my aging chest.

You won’t remember how that made me feel.

I tell you that I love you, that you’re
precious and funny and smart and
one day when you grow up you’re
going to hold someone in your arms
the way I’m holding you in this moment.

But you won’t remember my words.

You’re just nine months old but your eyes
can tell a story with only the sound of a smile,
and when you fall asleep nestled against me,
life rewinds to another time and place
that others whom I held will also not remember.

Time doesn’t exist in moments like this.

So I’ll hold you quietly against me until you wake,
until they tell me it’s time for you to go,
and you’re lifted away, watching your arms reach
out to me again so that our fingers touch for the
briefest of moments in an instant embrace.

You won’t remember the day that two women separated by
ninety years held each other and laughed.

And sadly, as day turns into night,

neither will I.

 

 

 

 

 

Anniversary Re-Blog (Riding Shotgun)

Sometimes I enjoy playing around with children’s poetry…:)

Riding Shotgun

I live inside a turtle shell,
where no one bothers me.
I spend the days in perfect haze,
just dreaming lazily.
I slowly move from place to place,
I’m in no rush to find,
what I don’t know or can’t explain,
for that I don’t have time.
My Buddy is a snapper,
I chose him carefully,
if you don’t want a part of him,
you’ll want no part of me.
We hang around the marshy ponds,
with weeds and mud galore.
I never have to shower once,
now who can ask for more?
Sometimes my Buddy comes inside,
and spends some time with me,
he listens while I talk with him,
he’s real good company.
I live inside a turtle shell,
where no one bothers me.
I spend my time in perfect rhyme,
Why not? I’m only three!

Anniversary Re-Blog (Sometimes We Need A LIttle Nonsense)

I couldn’t try to explain this one if i tried. Not sure where it came from..:)

Finding Waliforms

The flagon fills my senses
with nashiness, like a
bad pootie tam on a
boiled florentine nib.

It ain’t easy being
a bathroom stall. One might
be encouraged to believe
the sight lines reflect a
positive expose’ of
fresh fleshiness.

But the flesh ain’t fresh and
it’s positively not reflected
in the langoine oasis of
meringue buliciousness.

Words find their way to
my waliforms. Vulgar words.
Words that harass the membranes
of warbled tooties.

Designs of phlox drudgeries
escape from the artistic dreameries
and elope into colorful mutations
that party dress my outer being.

I’m violated in the most obensilly
numbness and no one cares. They clean
around my waliforms, freshen the airiness
with smelts of crumagen, modify the
foot foundations and humify the
prestoleum foils of zumber.

But they ignore me. My
scars, my defects. My war paint
remains for each new visitor
to transcript the imaginable.

It’s a bathroom stall. So please,
next time you visit, have a little
composition for my flecticide. If not,
you can take your prendaballs and
send them up your assimulations.