Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Shy Calla Lily--Life in Black and White


Photo by: John P. Ford

Black and White
Since age six or earlier I have aspired to write poetry. I have no idea why. I do remember wondering why no one else I knew did the same.While my mother occassionally read poems to me, they were not part of the general reading available to our family..

I remembered writing in my head before early school years. Since, I was published in the Sunday School Bulletin around the first grade, I must have shared my poetry with others at times..

What I have tended to do since being a young adult is to not share poetry I have written. I would start a Poetry Journal, misplace it and then forget about it! Often, I would discover poems years later in so obscure part of the storage areas.

Part of my process of Self-Reinvention was to begin a blog for the purpose of sharing some of my poetry. For me. on some level, this must be akin to riding down Main Street like the nortorious Lady Godiva on her white horse.

It just seems to be difficult to do! It is easier to not write poetry. I love writing in general so it is a peculiar thing to me that expression through poetry sharing is such a challenge.

My lovely blogger friend, Sarah at The Lemon Tree recently shared an email with me asking why I did not write more poetry. I am listening to her.
I am thinking about her question. Here is my poem for today....I will let tomorrow take care of itself!

Black and White

Standing barefoot
on charred ground
where yesterday
dreams flowered

Intent against
wind of pain
wind of beauty
too much
black and white

She kneels
in shades of gray
to smooth
the ashes at her feet

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Shared Poem in Comments ..Created from Snippits on the Fridge.



Miss Mary Bobo's Southern Table
Lynchburg, Tennessee
Ready for Thanksgiving Celebration
Photo by: John P. Ford

Just sharing a creative comment post from Alex.

Alex responded to the refrigerator poetry post as a true poet is likely to do....Write a poem!

I appreciate all readers and bloggers!. Thanks for taking the time to read and share your opinions and comments.


Writer On Board said:
Love it, Linda. Fun. I'll play:

morning yet they know not
I need a cup of liquid coffee
My sister...
I am over crap

Concrete poetry almost sacred translucent
Some delicious fever
From never more.....
I like me....no question

Always woman
This heart speaks out like a child at play
A brilliant wet secret on hot magic cloud
bring men of fire...sex, he too must

Make marbling
Perhaps green grass will dazzel that picture
perfume...lip is pierced...young girl I will heal you father said

Smile
Over ferocious daughter trust live laugh blush
Time to pick a flower
Open an old broken window

Change the hard blue universe
explore..listen..embrace..celebrate..dance..melt...
remember

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Family, Friends & Reflections on Refrigerator Poetry

Photobucket

Home Reflections Photo
Photo By: John P. Ford

A couple of years ago eight folks in a group of long term friends decided to form a poetry group. We dubbed ourselves the Live Poet's Chowder Society. We have been writing poetry, reading about favorite poets and meeting monthly alternately at each other's homes. We have an evening of sharing our poetic creations as well food and companionship and whatever presents in the way of conversation!

One of the shared things from the group was a gift to me from Karen W of magnetic words to create poetry on the refrigerator. I did manage to get the magnetic strips out of the box and randomly arranged on the front of the frig. Alas, I have not done much else with them until tonight.

My children and their broods and significant others also plan a joint family event monthly, again alternating homes where the event is held. As I took a seat in front of the frig tonight with the thought of using my gift, I noticed many arranged lines where the words were no longer random! I have no idea who assembled what as no one has come forth to take credit for the short creations. I want to share them here. None is related to the other that I can determine. Do you have a favorite?

RANDOM REFRIGERATOR POETIC OFFERINGS FROM FAMILY/FRIEND POETS UNKNOWN

From never more.....

I like me....no question

I need a cup of liquid coffee

My sister...
Open an old broken window
Change the hard blue universe

explore..listen..embrace..celebrate..dance..melt...remember

perfume...lip is pierced...young girl I will heal you father said

Perhaps green grass will dazzel that picture

A brilliant wet secret on hot magic cloud

This heart speaks out like a child at play

Concrete poetry almost sacred translucent morning yet they know not

Time to pick a flower

Over ferocious daughter trust live laugh blush bring men of fire...sex, he too must

Make marbling

Always woman

Some delicious fever

I am over crap

Smile (this one from me)

Friday, September 19, 2008

The Dozen Cousins and Taps on Table Tops.

Uncle Ross
sang bass
And Uncle Raymond
took lead

Uncle Bob Was a sweet tenor
and sopranoes and altos
were everywhere.
I wanted to be both

Aunt Nan
And Aunt Eunice
sang those golden bells
and Aunt Marie said
Lets try that one
one more time.

If we wanted to sing
We had to behave
We could not fight and
Yes she saw us

How did we feel
about being called
The Dozen Cousins?

Mama said to remember
we would be in the Lord's house
See if you can do better than the boys
she would whisper

She was afraid they would throw
us out of the church
if we were not sweet
So we learned to be sweet
with a mean beat

Once when we stayed awake
after the real musicians
went to bed
we danced too much
in the yard

Uncle Raymond caught us
and made us get up at 5:00 am
Did you know
It is not even
light at 5:00 am

We played taps
on the table top with
the old loose knife
from the drawer

We had to
fight to get it
And not let
Aunt Margaret catch us
Cause she said
we had to share

Donny rang bells
with half filled
water goblets
except the one
he threw the
snake in.
You could barely see it
Donny said.

Sonny played
drums with thumbs
and knuckles
on chair legs

We could all hum
a mean comb
and play
crooner sounds
with hand jive.

We loved to
do the twist!
Norman taught us all
Norm won the prize
for doing the splits

Though he lost his seams
down the back
the night he won the 100 dollars
He never missed a beat.