In mourning…

IN MOURNING….

For the bold, brash sun down where –

I was born and mostly bred,

swirling, twirling it’s bright yellow ..

everywhere, everywhere.

 

For the  heart stopping , eye popping

pathos and drama, the fears and tears

scattering, battering it’s ululation ..

everywhere, everywhere.

 

For the dance and the music,

the laughter and banter

Thumping and bumping..

everywhere, everywhere.

 

For the wild open spaces

echoing  the beginning of time

Whispering,  conspiring ..

Everywhere, everywhere.

 

For the history,  geography,

Current philosophies ,  family genealogy

Embracing,  engaging …  me

To everything, everything.

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One Single Impression – Dropped

You, yourself, you

Was I ever so beautiful,
bold and bouncy as you?
You who forced your way out
of my womb (not dropped-off
by the stork), determined
to be loved through and through.

I stare at you, seeing your
six year old sense of self
so sure, and strong and true.

I fervently pray I will never drop you,
though your love is heavy and my
hands, at times, are slippery.

The prompt at One Single Impression this week, thanks to Gautami Tripathy of Rooted , is Dropped.  Click here to go along for an interesting visit. This prompt reminded me of my theme song for myself and my family and my friends. Time after Time by Cindy Lopez – “If you fall, I will catch you, I will be there, time after time.”

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Sunday Scribblings – healing

I pick her up and hold her tight

this silent, sombre, sad-eyed baby girl

who not so long ago –  not yet weened

kept safe, close to her mothers breast-

beamed a most radiant, glorious smile

reflecting perfectly her name – Glady.

But already, here on earth under two years,

and those happy  eyes  now reflect too much suffering.

Cared for by a young teenage girl

who works to eat instead of attending school.

While Glady’s mother is away at work, all day,

to pay the rent for a two roomed mud abode

with little to no furnishings, not one chair.

Placing my cheek, against hers I hope for

healing, I want to reverse the clock to see

those happy, laughing, trustful eyes.

Handing her to her mother, all I can do is cry.

The prompt at Sunday Scribblings is healing. Go along to read more poetry and creative writing on healing.

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Poetry Friday – The Flying Squirrel

As part of homeschooling we are doing Linguistic Development through Poetry Memorization by Andrew Pudewa. I added a few poems to his selection, and The Flying Squirrel by John Gardner which I found in Eric Carle’s Animals Animals, is a favourite with the children. You can almost feel the squirrel flying past one’s ear the way they say – Into empty a i r, spreading every h a i r. .

The Flying Squirrel

by John Gardner

The Flying Squirrel is crazy.

Though he has no feathers (much less wings),

He scampers up into the tallest tree

And cries, “Toot-toot! I’m a parachute!”

And away off the highest branches he springs

Into empty air, spreading every hair,

His arms and legs spread wide to the side,

Till he lands with a thump that’s almost quite …

Admire it child, but don’t try it.

This week’s Poetry Round-up is being held at The Miss Rumphius Effect.

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