Yeah, there were brats. You couldn’t avoid them.
And broken glass. And sirens at midnight.
It’s what we could afford where we were.
Oh, what a neighborhood!
~*~
For your own copy, click here.
Tag: Poetry
RUNNING IN A NAME
How can you not appreciate the way the word flows on the teeth and tongue and along the lips?
Given its name, Oyster River, in the Lenape tongue for the profusion at its mouth in Chesapeake Bay, the word ripples and sings.
Upstream, where I lived, a different name would have been fitting but, I’ll presume, no more beautiful.
~*~
For your own copy, click here.
AIRY FOOTSTEPS
What catechist insists
they’re ivory flights
in snowy clouds? Angels exist
in every rainbow color, including scarlet
footsteps on silver ladders
where charity runs in both directions.
Scarlet, as well, fills the Seventh Day
and Seventh Year, when you take rest.
Scarlet, as the sunset or sunrise
or the blood of the lamb. For that matter,
faith demands more than walking on water.
For starters, try treading on air
with or without the ladder.
To continue, click here.
Copyright 2015
REMEMBERING ONE FINE DAY
As I said at the time …
You know, of course, what an absolute delight it is to have all five submissions accepted. I’ve been floating all day.
Thanks.
LOST AND FOUND
Enter the woods. Listen. Breathe.
Sometimes a woodlot will do. Or a grove along running water.
You don’t always need a forest.
Don’t worry about getting lost. Just pay attention to the trail. And the wind. And the light. Maybe a companion or two. Some of them human.
We’ll talk about holy later.
~*~
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WITH THE SUMMIT SOMEWHERE ABOVE
Let me confess to struggling with the preposition for the title of this collection.
The initial thought was of being atop a mountain, with its panoramic views. But that runs the danger of suggesting superiority, submission of nature to man’s will, or placing more value on a given result rather than the process of getting there (and back). The climb, I’ll contend, is purification for what lies ahead.
An alternative “on the mountain” allows for the sense of having one’s feet on a trail or even presenting a series somehow “about” the mountain as a set of explanations.
I settled on “under” for its sense of looking upward, in awe or even reverence, as well as the fact that even in mountainous terrain, we live in the valley, with some degree of protection from the elements. Where the streams come down and weave their threaded branches together. Where at times the clouds nestle in. Where the eyes wander from the summit.
~*~
For your own copy, click here.
HAY AND STRAW
Feeding bunnies, I’ve learned the difference. Hay is healthier than straw.
But when it comes to mulch, straw’s better. Leads to fewer weeds.
~*~
Back to the Farm
“You want first-cutting? Or third?”
October, a dash to the farm for two more bales of mulch hay
a half-dozen ears of sweet corn, gourds, etc.
and then the wine store
before grilling thick pork chops
poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
~*~
For more home and garden poems, click here.
WITH OR WITHOUT INCENSE
Every autumn, I drain and put the hoses away. Shut off the water. Move other stuff into the barn and shed.
Just one more round of rituals that could be accompanied by incense.
~*~
For my home and garden free poetry collections, click here.
IF YOU MAKE THE EFFORT
Food, shelter, clothing, bedding, cooking gear, toiletries, maps and guidebooks – everything practical, collected, focused – fit on your back. You’re as free as can be, if you make the effort.
Each trek is a revelation you pack home.
For your own copy, click here.
~*~
EN ROUTE TO BECOMING A RESPONSIBLE MALE AUTHORITY FIGURE
As I said at the time …
The writing had rather burned itself out by the time my love life was heating up. The big project, in fact, was a volume on personal finances with a holistic Certified Public Accountant who hasn’t been all that active in the project, but whose credentials are a big help. Or would be.
More recently, I’ve gotten back to a big series of poems – one that, if it works, will be about 160 pieces long. Many ifs, though.
In the meantime, had four paying gigs, and that’s always nice! But finding time to write, to submit, and to read in public seems to be mutually exclusive: doing just one is almost a full-time job, and when you already have a full-time job, to say nothing of other responsibilities, it can become a nightmare!
Finding myself the Responsible Male Authority Figure in a 17-year-old’s life (her term for my role, for now) gives me a different perspective on much of your own activities, (And telling the authorities one thing and printing another is not precisely wise, my dear.)
On top of it all, we have her other best friend, a Pisces, in fact, undergoing a similar set of explorations -– while we hope she manages to survive it without lasting psychic or physical harm. (Someone, in fact, who appears incredibly young to me – even as she tries to appear much older, attempts that seem merely to accentuate her youthfulness.)
~*~
For another take on a changing home life, click here.
