The Ladies

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St Therese of Lisieux,
what the other sisters didn’t know,
snuck off to the kitchen
to enjoy some leftover chicken.

Mary Magdalene once said,
“Don’t let it go to your head
and be careful not to fall,”
was to Peter her warning call.

St. Brigit of Kildare
was far more than just fare.
She milked cows and brewed beer
keeping others in good cheer.

Sophia, our lady of wisdom,
set herself apart from the great “hisdom.”
Her spirit wends its way
through our lives everyday.

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 25. A bit of silliness today following the prompt.

“And now for our prompt (optional, as always)! It’s the weekend, so I’d thought we might go with something short and just a bit (or a lot) silly – the Clerihew. These are rhymed, humorous quatrains involving a specific person’s name. You can write about celebrities, famous people from history, even your mom (hopefully she’s got a good name for rhyming with).”

I decided to go with the ladies who are currently guiding me. Such fun!

St. Therese of Lisieux

St. Therese of Lisieux

Mary Magdalene

Mary Magdalene

St. Brigid of Kildare by Joanna Powell Colbert

St. Brigid of Kildare by Joanna Powell Colbert

Pistis Sophia by Louis Janmot

Pistis Sophia by Louis Janmot

Extinction

I heard that poetry is going extinct,napofeature3
government data shows, a Friday
afternoon tweet to end the week.

But I wonder if they heard
the darling little bird outside my
window before dawn,
it’s featherweight held bravely
by budding branch, itself
tweeting an arrival that returns
without fail in creamsicle
goodness each day.

I wonder if they heard
my first graders who listen to
Dickinson and Guthrie,
Williams and Hughes
as they place their chewed pencils,
erasers gone for the use,
on lined paper almost too
narrow to hold their words.

            I have made a erath
            today. It looks pride qute.
            I wote wrds.

 I know what he means.

            I have made an earth
            today. It looks pretty quiet.
            I wrote words.

Or, I wonder if they heard her,

            owl owl come
            I love you you love
            me hoooooo said
            owl I am a girl said
            the owl I follow the
            forest I love the hooooo
            I follow the village and
            I follow my self I love
            the forest forest and
            I love my self the
            people say I am a
            gorgeous white owl
            I love when people
            say I am a gorgeous
            white owl I just follow
            my heart people follow my
            heart I say to the people
            hooooo they say
            I love owls they say
            I will follow your heart

I heard someone tweet today
that poetry is going extinct.

I wonder where they heard that.

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 24. I did not use the prompt today. A tweet at the end of the school day caught my attention instead.

According to government data, as reported by the Washington Post, poetry is going extinct.

Not in my life. Sorry. Data, whether in standardized assessment in the schools or studies funded by who knows what, only tells a tip of a story.

There is more. There is always so much more.

Cup

I find You whennapofeature3
I drink deeply enough
I feel your lines and colors
gentle waves of compassion
folding over me, holding me

If I drink passionately
my heart slows into a rhythm
that says your name,
calls my name, two as one
woven into a precious canticle

When I find You, when I have
sipped fully and freely
you touch me tenderly,
consume me, keep me near

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 23

“And now for today’s prompt (optional, as always). Today, I challenge you to take a chance, literally. Find a deck of cards (regular playing cards, tarot cards, uno cards, cards from your “Cards Against Humanity” deck – whatever), shuffle it, and take a card – any card! Now, begin free-writing based on the card you’ve chosen. Keep going without stopping for five minutes. Then take what you’ve written and make a poem from it.”

So I decided to pull a tarot card from an app I have, The Goddess Tarot by Kris Waldherr. I pulled the Queen of Cups. Here’s is what resonated with me the most: “Within ourselves is the ability to feel profound joy and appreciate intense beauty–the presence of this card suggests a new awareness of this state of grace…”

D’s Psalm, Remixed, again

You are Light in the Depth of Me;napofeature3
you make me whole.
I rest under your verdant breath;
you give life to my being.
In mirrored pond I see your face.
You enfold me as your beloved.
In balance with you
I journey into this world.

The path may be perilous,
but I am not alone,
You are with me,
bracing me with strength
and guiding me in compassion.

You nourish me with abundance
not accorded to those
who have yet to realize your tenderness.

I am your bride prepared for her wedding,
radiant beyond the blazing sun.
You walk beside me, together as One in Promise.
We dance for Eternity.

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 22. Needing a break. So…..

“And now for (as always, optional) prompt! Today is Earth Day, so I would like to challenge you to write a “pastoral” poem. Traditionally, pastoral poems involved various shepherdesses and shepherds talking about love and fields, but yours can really just be a poem that engages with nature. One great way of going about this is simply to take a look outside your window, or take a walk around a local park. What’s happening in the yard and the trees? What’s blooming and what’s taking flight?”

Looking at the pastoral poems in the link above, I saw the re-writing of Psalm 23 by Sir Philip Sidney. It reminded me of mine. So today I rest.

You can see the original post here.

 

A Million Ways

There are probably a million ways to something,napofeature3
fall into love, hate, etc.

What always works better, for me anyway,
eavesdropping.

I overheard things you would never say,
it’s hard to trap something.

In fact, nothing is off limits, I suppose,
There are many rules.

There are no rules.

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 21. An erasure poem.”Our prompt for today (optional, as always) is an old favorite – the erasure! This involves taking a pre-existing text and blacking out or erasing words, while leaving the placement of the remaining words intact.”

I couldn’t get the spacing right so it appears just as a regular poem. But I used an article about writing poems from Writer’s Digest in Poetic Aside by Robert Lee Brewer, 5 Ways to Write A Poem. What fun.

Conception

I know when my bare feet napofeature3
touch morning grass
teardrops of early dawn
wash me of my sorrows

I know when I inhale
sweet summer air
I rest on obscurity high
above my anxious days

I know when I touch lips
that also know emptiness
I entwine myself with you
to stitch closed the desperate chasm

I know when I hear
evening coyotes call
in search of vanquished prairie
I walk the night in kinship

I know you whisper my name
I wild myself in your conception

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 20

“And now for our prompt (optional, as always). Today, I challenge to write a poem that states the things you know. For example, “The sky is blue” or “Pizza is my favorite food” or “The world’s smallest squid is Parateuthis tunicata. Each line can be a separate statement, or you can run them together. The things you “know” of course, might be facts, or they might be a little bit more like beliefs. Hopefully, this prompt will let your poem be grounded in specific facts, while also providing room for more abstract themes and ideas.”

Chicken in the Kitchen

I always prayed to Mother Mary and Therese,napofeature3
the little flower, the saint caught nighttitde
eating chicken in the kitchen.

Father God was too busy for me, too stern
and austere. Jesus, more approachable,
but needed more desperately by others.

So I prayed to the women
who swept floors and cooked meals,
ones who nursed and cradled the child.

They would intercede for me.
They would know when to speak,
use good words, not too many or too few.

They were the ones who lived everyday
life. They knew what it was like to be me,
craving compassion and food, brave or weak.

Now that I’m old and held up the mirror
I see how really close you are.
Not a man on cloud with a book and a quill

but me in your image so near.
I throw away the quaver and piles of debris,
leave a space wide open for us.

I carry my wounds not in shame or regret
but in kinship with you, Elder Brother,
and with you, Faithful Creator,
altogether we are One.

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 19

Today the story of the Road to Emmaus and the question of why was it that it took seeing the wounds to make the disciples believers, inspired today’s poem. Also, a discussion after Mass as to what does it mean to be “Catholic” and some discussion of intercessory prayers thrown in. Along with the most powerful quote I use in The Magdalene: I will know that he is in his Father, I am in him, and he is in me.” Quite a mixed bag today.