city’s strange noises
source of which I’ll never know
feel like country mouse
(from stepping outside first thing this morning)
powwords
words levy power like
wizards casting spells in lore
words do take over
especially with nothing left
when everything has failed
and utterance remains
we are words
we are made of words
well we are not
though it can feel that way
do you know the secret
word that elicits gnostic will
do you know the word
that can heat a frozen spirit
inspired by recent posts of
annie at what the woman wrote
melinda kuscera at in media res
working together
https://whatthewomanwrote.wordpress.com/2016/03/24/a-way-with-words/
https://whatthewomanwrote.wordpress.com/2016/03/26/pathogenic-poetry/
Easter Uprising
2016
Some chose to mark
Easter day with willful
Murder
Family picnics in
Lahore Pakistan
Christians targeted
Though tell me there
Were no guests of
Islam other faith or
None
Day of faith and
Homely celebration
We who were not
There can nonetheless
Relate
Imagine those we
Love even those we
Forbear by mere
Relation
Scattered rent apart
Undone
Reunions friendly or
Indifferent never
Again
The soul the spire
Tying through a
Family broken taken
Away
Now the future holy
Day focuses alone to
Count those of us
Alive
Questions for my nominees are:
(my questions to answer)
1.What do you write and Why do u write?
2.Who are you n where do u belong to?
3.What do you love beside writing?
4.What is your ultimate aim in life?
5.Are you single, in a relationship or married?
6.What is the best thing about you?
7.Which is your favorite book and why?
8.Who is your idol?
9.Give some tips on becoming a good writer.
10.What would you do if you were the last person in world?
11.How many friends and fans do u have? Describe your best friend.
My thanks to Isolated Girl, https://jyoteeblog.wordpress.com/, for the nomination! What follow are my responses to the questions above, then in turn my nominations.
- I used to say I write because I need to, and that’s right. But I write because I want to, too. I started my blog during recovery from surgery. The blog—writing and corresponding with other bloggers—kept me sane. What do I write? Poetry, each day. I’m also keeping a journal. Last summer, when I pretty much couldn’t do anything, I drafted a novel (in verse) and started drafting another. I write prose, too. Letters to the editor, when I’m moved by something exigent. Essays and articles, too. Course syllabi, when I’m teaching.
- I live in Pennsylvania in the USA. I live in a small town (called boroughs, here) named for mechanics who used to fix covered wagons for pioneers heading out west. My immediate family is four siblings. I am the middle child. I grew up with cats and dogs and other creatures (besides my sibs). I had a cat who died a couple of years back at nineteen. She had all that time to train me. I’m sure I failed.
- Well, reading, naturally enough. I read young-adult literature. I read works about spirituality. I also read mystery novels. I walk. I spend time with friends. I take day-trips to nowhere in particular.
- My aim in life is to publish a small book of poetry. My other aim is to live more comfortably and completely than I do. There’s an image of Bilbo Baggins, retired and writing verse in Rivendell. I like that.
- I am single. So far never married.
- My best day-to-day skill might be listening. Each one has a story, and that story has great value. I enjoy eliciting parts of others’ stories. And hearing what else someone might want or need to talk about.
- My favorite book (see note 4, above) is The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien. I’ve read this novel a number of times and listened to various readings. I’ve researched and published some about it. I’ve taught The Hobbit many times. I like the hobbit’s lifestyle and the one great adventure he is talked into taking.
- I wish I’d had a Gandalf in my life or a Merlin, parent, school advisor, or work supervisor who was a mentor for me. I didn’t have such a one. I grew up in a strange time, when everything was questioned with few good answers provided. So I guess I’d say my idol is C. S. Lewis who took his smarts about literature and life and became Christian and an apologist. Faith doesn’t have to make sense as thoroughly to me as it had to for Lewis, but he clearly argued that belief is reasonable and that believing is intelligent. I respect that about Christianity and any other faith tradition. Or none.
- Every now and then, a student will ask about increasing vocabulary. I say read something. Read something you enjoy. Your vocabulary and diction (choice of words) will grow this way. When writing, a writer should write. And keep writing, even when most of what’s set down is set aside. Art used to mean theory and vision, and science meant practice and skill. At the foundation of the theoretical part of writing is understanding that writing is a process. The science of writing is to keep practicing until you make something with which you are satisfied. Then get the writing out there. Writing is not complete until it is read and responded to. Writing is a chore, as it should be. While you write, avoid cliché, unless you mean to use cliché. When writing poetry, if rhyme becomes too laborious, then don’t use it. Same with metre—it’s possible the poem wants to go another way. Allow exploring and discovery through the writing act.
- If I were the last person, I’d find things to remind me of humanity. Videos, sound recordings, photographs. I’d gather in ways and means to drink and eat and dress and with which to get around. I’d spend time each day trying to find someone else in the neighborhood, the cosmos, maybe the multiverse. I’d read and write each day and still find ways to grow my mind and heart. I’d talk with God all the time.
- I don’t know about fans. Members of my family are friends, and I am thankful. The next generation of family is friendly, too. My neighbors are my friends. I live in part of an old house, and those across the hall and downstairs from me are wonderful companions. We help each other out as well. I have friends with whom I socialize. In my life, a short thread of best friends has been intertwined. One friend moved way. A couple of times I’ve moved. One best friend has died. My best friend now is someone with whom I communicate pretty regularly. Right now, I’m house-sitting in a distant place; so we communicate electronically. We help each other in substantial ways. We gone to the hospital for and with each other. We also watch movies and read things to talk about. So I have a small circle of family, friends, and a best friend. Blogging has brought me new friends. I find these happy and important relationships.
I’ve enjoyed the pleasure of nominating bloggers for awards. I’ll try to think of some others, here, and probably will overlap as well. And if an award-free blog is kept and one doesn’t mind, simply enjoy what pleasure might come from being nominated.
I nominate
https://sabethville.wordpress.com/
https://moonskittles.wordpress.com/
https://straycoffee.wordpress.com/
http://shannonpaigewaters.com/
https://thesarahdoughty.wordpress.com/
https://mariawenttotown15.wordpress.com/
https://kokoboocro.wordpress.com/
(I think my citing your sites pings back to you. I hope I have this right.)
Rules:
- Thank the person who nominated you in the blog post.
- Answer the 11 questions set by the person who nominated you.
- Nominate 11 blogs to receive the award and write them 11 new questions to answer.
- Copy the icon to post at your blog site.
My questions for you (borrowed, adapted, and new):
- What do you write?
- Why do u write?
- What do you love besides writing?
- What is an aim in life you are working on right now?
- What is a positive quality about you?
- Do you have or have you had a mentor? If so, who, please?
- Which is your favorite book and why?
- Is there a favorite way (place, accompaniments, posture) you have to write?
- What are some tips on becoming a good writer?
- What would you do if you were the last person in the world?
- Why are your friends your friends?
Unopened daisy
Signals an arriving spring
Earth: Hallelujah
haiku inspired by
Rosema, A Reading Writer;
Melinda, In Media Res,
who wrote about spring,
https://areadingwritr.wordpress.com/2016/03/28/springs-harbinger/
My Two Charges
They’re small like cats
Not even big house cats
They’re dogs and must
Be compensating
Wishing all felines
Into tolerable targets
Thank goodness, I have
Them when they tire
With age, sleeping more
Than running varmints
Down in the yard
Actually, my greater
Concern—my aim—is
Is that they live until my
Sister returns
Hear that, lump of
Turned-in white-curled
Thighs and back and
Ears, snoozing beside me
As I type?
And you, over to the
Left, long-brown dog
Sleeping in a circle on the
Floor, back bent from
Early trauma—your
Heart will keep its
Rhythm (yes?), when
You set your four pins
To the ground to trundle
Over to the door?
Please, dogs, stay with
Me
After long-sleeping
Hours, I’d be thankful
For you waking up
Each time
Reading the Sunday Paper
on my First Day (Back) Here
I am in the City
Of Bridges, the
Renaissance City,
The Steel city
And today I look
At a major
City’s newspaper
Horrors and other
Troubles in Brussels,
In Istanbul, and
Syria (reported
From Beirut)
Also talk of state
Candidates for the
Fall that in my
State part
I haven’t heard
Of
A hopeful market,
This
It is a special day,
Which is covered
Through testimony
From leaders
Of movements
In communities
Contiguous,
Congealed
There is a story
Of architecture here,
Appropriately given
The age and grand
(Sky-scraping) efforts
Of artists and
Builders over
Time
The obituary
Section’s long with
Detailed histories told
Of those now
Taken
Editorials, reader
Opinions pretty
Well-reasoned
One take arguing
That civility
Itself must rule
Practices in public
Discourse
I skipped the ads
And comic stories
(So far) but pore
Through tailored
Regional parts (the
House I visit is in
The west)
There are big
Cities over many
Points in our
Compassed globe
While enormity
Conveys impersonal
Anxiety
There is an appreciable
Nexus of talent
Nature-distributed
Urban-planned
And neighborly
Diversity
Freedom in
That
Inexorable, the
City strives
With many things
Challenge
Then to celebrate
Passion Play
Act Four
He is arisen now
Who caused the rising
Disciples will say the
Spirit of God breathed
Into his body once
Again
So that he might walk
Upon a mortal land
To testify
And heal
And more simply to
Take meals with friends
“Nothing mattered now.”
After Aslan is slain in
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
by C. S. Lewis
Unseen
Christ is dead
Not now but long ago
And on the full day in between
(Counting days on calendars)
When the body lay in Joseph’s
Tomb, the movement sleeps
As well
Nightmares of capture
And, worse, hopelessness
It is a time for cynical
Reasoning among the
Followers
clcouch123 
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