You are currently browsing the monthly archive for September 2012.

Kelsea and I went to Pugs in the Park in City Park (Denver) today. Hundreds of pugs, a costume contest, and if I didn’t know better, I’d have thought that Amanda of The Daily Puglet was there shooting with Nikon. (But I think she’s on the right coast.) This not-so-little guy was dressed as “a pirate, but he didn’t like his hat very much.

Denver, Colorado.

Quote of the day: “Wrinkles should only indicate where smiles have been.”  —  Mark Twain

Daily gratitudes:
Time with Kelsea
Drives with MKL
Beautiful skies

Amazing to think that it has been four years since I’ve been in Mexico. I’m hoping we can get back there next year.  As the fall progresses and winter falls, you can expect to see a lot of beach pictures on the Photo of the Day.

Tulum, Mexico.

Quote of the day: “The sea is only the embodiment of a supernatural and wonderful existence. It is nothing but love and emotion; it is the Living Infinite. ”  —  Jules Verne

Daily gratitudes:
The interesting people you run into near the Denver Greyhound bus station
One pair of black socks abandoned on the sidewalk – and two blocks away, another pair
Fallen blossoms
Interior brick walls of old buildings
My first day as a Chia pet (more about that later)

Confuse me.  I am smart.  And I am a woman of a certain age.  So it’s not like this is my first elevator ride.  But when I am faced with that unique challenge of pushing the arrow button that says “hold the door open” versus the arrow button that says “close the door”, I get as lost as if I were wandering around Antarctica in a whiteout.  Those arrows…they mean nothing to me.  The only thing I can see is the slightly hurt, more-than-a-little-annoyed, offended look in the eyes of the person on whom I am closing those elevator doors as my brain fumbles about, thinking in a panic, “Which button??? Which button???”

To all on whom I have inadvertently closed elevator doors within an inch of their noses – and to all to whom I will undoubtedly do this in the future – my sincerest apologies.

I’m a pretty good photographer and I can’t even take a decent picture of the things.

On Poetry

Poems come in rushes
or not at all.

They spill from the souls and pens unbound,
a waterfall of words rushing
down a passage of boulders
In the brain that would trap them
were they too weak,
Those words
Then left tangled and forgotten as something
choked and burned by summer kudzu or
an unrepentant murderous lover.

When the words won’t come
or when they crawl,
disparate phrase by disparate phrase
following on the heels of an
inspired title,
I tire of trying to soothe them into order,
this rascally line of word children.
I let them play,
jottings only,
And the poem breathes,
And shallower
Then stills.

I cannot understand the man who,
for weeks has been
“working on a poem”.
You cannot rearrange water
once it has flowed onto a page –
you can only carve ice, but ice
does not curve,
not like liquid words
not like the bending turns of a poem.

A poem is or is not.
It is born of thought whole,
An Eve from somewhere behind a rib,
A Venus rising from her shell.
A tweak here or there perhaps,
After a night in a soft bed
(Never a refrigerator – too chill)
A cast of shadow caused by altered light
A pearl tucked in a tendril of hair
A wisp of chiffon draped over a bare shoulder –
just so –

But work?
Oh no.
A poem
Is birthed from soul.

Today’s guest poet: Tyler J. Yoder

(This is a stanza of a much longer work by this gifted poet/writer. He currently aspires to publish his first volume of work, so please share your thoughts and comments about this piece. I’m sure he’d appreciate any and all encouragement, and I truly think his work deserves a broad audience.  I’m thrilled that he’s joining the list of luminous poets whose works have been featured on The Weekly Wednesday Poem.)

V.  Prophets

Tell me how the prophets were
When they were young men –
Did they lust, and drink, and fight,
Get dirty, now and then?
Did they jump to join the brawl
To settle brother’s score?
Did loyalty, fidelity,
Surge from every pore?
Did honour grow like cock’s comb
As on sons of gods of war?

Tell me what the Prophets did
When they were young men –
Were they brash and bold and brave
And cocky, now and then?
Were barefoot runs up craggy trails
A commonplace event?
Were evenings spent in shady bars?
Were their youths misspent?
Were brothers pushed to dare and dream
And let the blood ferment?

Tell me how the Prophets lived
When they were young men –
How could later holy work
Compete with youthful sin?
How to fold in animal,
Whose influence was banned?
How faces flick with scars and smiles
When caged in Promised Land!
How did they hide from history
All that made them Man?

Fishing is still one of the primary industries of the small town of New Quay, which was once known for its shipbuilders. Located along Cardigan Bay, which is home to bottleneck dolphins, the town has made its mark as a spot for tourists on The Dylan Thomas Trail.

New Quay, Ceredigion, West Wales.

Quote of the day: “Be not the slave of your own past – plunge into the sublime seas, dive deep, and swim far, so you shall come back with new self-respect, with new power, and with an advanced experience that shall explain and overlook the old.”  —  Ralph Waldo Emerson

Daily gratitudes:
The scent of early fall
Roosters crowing in town
The irrational number of pillows on my  bed
Quick egg sandwiches
Sleeping with the windows open

Beth Ann over at It’s Just Life is a teapot collector.  I love teapots, but they are one of those things I just don’t have room for.  Whenever I see a cool one, I think of Beth Ann, and this emporer just screamed her name to me.  Sorry about my hands in the mirror behind him – but they do seem to add something, don’t they?

Cripple Creek, Colorado.

Quote of the day: “Return to the centre of your heart; not your past.”  —  Unknown

Daily gratitudes:
Yellow bicycle tires
Banana muffins
The aspens turning
Dressing spiffy

An old Chippewa legend speaks of a little duck called Shingebiss who is strong enough and determined enough to defy the most bitter of winters. While we are not there yet, it is coming, and these little duck heads serve as a reminder to stay strong and do what must be done. And they’re pretty cute, especially accompanied by their wise owl friends. If I had unlimited room (and funds), I would collect vintage salt and pepper shakers.

Cripple Creek, Colorado.

Quote of the day: “Almost all the time, you tell yourself you’re loving somebody when you’re just using them.”  —  Chuck Palahniuk

Daily gratitudes:
Sweet tea
Commiserating with Kelsea about our hatred of mornings
That I woke up today
Snatches of poetry

These two beauties are from “Horse Day” which happened with my sister-in-law last weekend. MKL and I are just back from a busy, lovely weekend – we need an extra day to recover, but isn’t that so often the way?

Larimer County, Colorado.

Quote of the day: “No Spring nor Summer has such grace as I have seen in an Autumned face.”  —  John Donne

Daily gratitudes:
Winding mountain roads
Unexpected Amish people
Small towns
Truck stop coffee
Soaking in hot springs

I have no idea what attracted the attention of this little flock, but they were obviously enraptured. As I seem to be in a phase in which I am totally enamored with poultry, I bid you a good weekend with this image. 

Llanhennock, Monmouthshire, Wales.

Quote of the day: “It is our duty as men and women to proceed as though the limits of our abilities do not exist.”  —  Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

Daily gratitudes:
The big red ball of sun this morning
Realizing that pigeons are, in fact, pigeon-toed
Keeping random hilarious thoughts to myself
My pink orchid earrings
A weekend respite with MKL

September 2012


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