Sunday, June 28, 2009
We were in Bandon by the Sea ( Oregon ) to celebrate the lowest tide last week.To see the living things ( sea anemone, starfish and shellfish) below and above the water line before and after the tides is wonderful. Walking on the suddenly vast sandy beach and circle the huge boulders is an enjoyable experience. I started to understand the solitude of some people who sojourned on an island and looked at the ocean every day. The feel of the sand, the sound of waves touching the shore and seeing the boulders and rock formations are enough solace for the soul.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
I'm reading again Thoreau's Walden and a little more closely than before.
It's a call from the wilderness-Simplify, simplify. My struggle is to do just that.
But I'm able to write a little bit again. My poem:
The out-of-season rain had stopped.
A morning of wet roads and dense traffic,
A meditation on economic disarray.
Monday was not an ordinary day
Waking after a deep sleep.
You were in a hurry, seemingly
Uncaring, your eyes darting
From the cup of coffee
And half eaten cinnamon rolls
To the darkening clouds outside.
You wondered what the place of man
In the universe, the meaning of existence
“In 140 characters or less” on cyberspace.
The TV news was real and significant
The swine flu had arrived.
There was no solace in covered faces
In unrecognizable worried faces
In a quantum world of possibilities.
What if the pandemic was of affection
Would you say goodbye and kiss me?
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
I'm attending a class in creative writing. I'm trying to write poetry again.
(photo is one of Getty Images)
“We play for blood,”
Said the group of women in their nineties
Who play contract bridge every Thursday
“It’s what keep us going.”
They preserve their mental sharpness
For odds and strategy
In a long mental embrace.
You can be the woman
Descending on a staircase
Listening to Mendelssohn’s concerto in violin
Walking towards the kitchen
To cook lemon-ginger scented shrimps.
But a mind can loiter
gather driftwoods, throwaways
and build a bonfire on the beach
Or carve a bird,
A koala bear.
You can hike the mountains
Engage your mind in colors,
Voices and movements in the thicket
Or scour under logs, mounds of leaves
For mushrooms, net of fibers
Remembering the shapes and looks
“Choose a morning when the lights are soft”
Tour the cathedral at Chartres
Or study any cathedral spires
Your medieval eye
Learning its story and sentiment.
You are a Zen woman
Who goes to the village every day
Stepping on slippery stones
To cross the stream through the forest
Where the tiger waits.
Posted by edgar at 9:32 PM
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
You talked of continuity
The lingering finish of pinot noir
An old vintage you said.
The roots grew on the hillsides
Concentrated effort, a struggle
For a deeper purple of small fruits.
You talked about terroir, chemistry, gravitation
Awareness of what is there
Delights of what they hold
Like the bridge you have to cross
To the temple
Concealed in the mist.
The wind chimes shivered
Crisp December night inviting
A long cuddle, filled glasses,
Brie de Meaux and baguette
That make the seasons
And what a night should be.
Posted by edgar at 11:58 AM