An Artist, Photographer, Writer, Poet

Monthly Archives: March 2013

.

Happy  Easter

.

 

Church flowers this morning. 

.

I’m a little slow today with Easter greetings…
Went to the 8 am service thinking I’d be ahead
of things, but had been invited to a pot luck
Easter Dinner.  Usually my friend, Joan, ends up
cooking all day, but his year her oldest daughter,
Bethany decided to do a pot luck that has no
planning…we are to bring our favorite dish/dessert
or beverage and see what happens.  We had an
“Easter Surprise” for a meal !  Great fun.

.

Easter
.
blue sky
.
sun is shining
.
birds are joyfully singing
.
ROBINS !
===============================
The first chorus of robins heard today.

——–

.
I hope you all had a wonderful day

whether Easter is your tradition or not.

.


.

.

The crow in the tree was also from a tree next to the library
and is preparing to take off
  The trees nearby are one by one
being cut down due to age and widening of the narrow road
thru the village.

.

.

Thanks to Becca Givens of

.

Sunday Trees – 71

by becca givens

.

.


.

.

Lone Tree, Sedgewick, Maine …Acrylic on 9 x 12 Canvas March 2013

.

This is a “memoir” of a tree I love to see when out driving in Sedgewick. 

The tree has caught my eye when coming out of aback road on to the main

road between Blue Hill and Sedgewick, Maine.  There is a lot more growth

now, but I painted it as I remembered the first time I saw it many years ago.

I can always paint it as it is now with the changes around it.

.

.

Thanks to Becca Givens of

.

Sunday Trees – 70

by becca givens

.


.

.

Weep for beauty found
.
.
Weeping Cherry weeps for all
.
.
Laugh:  strutting crows  back !

.

.

.
.

 


.

.

.

forsythia bloom
.
.
earth filled with beauty and joy
.
.
gift of spring:  grand-child


=======================

Two of my grand-daughters, now teens,
have been the gifts of “deep spring”.
The youngest, almost 15, was born while
the spring was deep in the bloom of
forsythia as I drove back and forth, for
several days,  to the hospital, awaiting
her arrival in Maine.
I remember gorgeous blooms in May
from family photos during a school
trip to London, but realize they could
have been a landscaping event !   One of
the grand-daughters was born in May in
London, U.K.

.

.

.
,

.

From “imaginary garden with real toads”:

.
There is a song by Leonard Cohen, called

“Anthem”, which contains these marvelous lines:


“Ring the bells that still can ring.

Forget your perfect offering.

There is a crack, a crack, in everything–

That’s how the light gets in.”

I say,   “That’s how the water gets in.”

======================================

The prompt:

For this Fireblossom Friday challenge, …. write a poem about a crack, fissure, rupture, split, or breaking point.
It can involve something tangible, or intangible. It can be in any form you like.

=========================================================================================


Bungalow with Four Dormer Gables

At night…
even better daytime,
I lay on my water bed
look up.
I see the years
 of ceiling design  created
by roof ice built up and melt,
hurricanes
and windy rain storms,
from the south.
.
Now, understand,
I am on the first floor.
One night I feel
drip
…..drip
………drip, drip
pause
drip, … splat on the pillow
…waking
I feel the pillow amazed…
IT”S WET !
.
Since it’s a water bed,
reason doesn’t enter in.
I lift the mattress cover
(it is like a regular mattress,
with a cover with hard sides
so the illusion is it’s
a regular bed…
just filled with water)
expecting to find a leak.
Puzzled…
I find it dry.  Splat !
I hear drip
…..drip….splat...splat...
SIGH
.
Shingles around the gable
window are replaced…
then I’m informed 
dormer gable  windows
are difficult
to seal.
.
Some  shingles
were also replace
around the chimney…
they had blown off
just as well to fix
the cracks in the roof
now.
.
Good grief Mary Jane !
The next rain storm
all of a sudden,
water POURED into the
living room. 
Literally.
Come to find out,
the roofer, was a
sub-contractor and
put the shingles
next to the chimney
on UPSIDE DOWN
creating a FUNNEL EFFECT
with WATERFALL
to the living-room. 
SIGH.
NO ! :   words unfit
for children’s ears
were said  
L O U D L Y.

.
Now the living room has
a pattern on the ceiling
for me to look at and
see what I can see in
the cracks and stains …
better than the wall paper
on the ceiling in the room
above the living-room !
.
Almost forty years,
drip, drip, splat.
Drag out
…..buckets
…….towels
then eventually
a tarp to cover the bed.
Drip. .. Annoying dripdrip
IN THE FIRE PLACE.
Soft drip……
the carpet muffles…
in front of the fire place:
 ….soft drip, drip.
.
SIGH. 
.
Last year,
An angel named, BoB
showed up.
I told him I didn’t care
if he poured tar over
the light gray roof…
I WANTED it to STOP
and to    STOP    N O W.
And,
why didn’t it ever rain
in on the second floor?
Sigh.
He got technical,
and explained about the
four dormer gables,
and the chimney…
Sigh.
.
I just was tired of buckets,
towels and tarps…
and plaster falling down
on me while I was sleeping,
creating art work
sort of Rorschach Test 
on the ceilings
that even came back thru
scraping plaster , bun
and painting over.
.
Hallelujah !
Bob DID IT.
.
At the little white
Bungalow with Four Dormer Gables
drips, splats, pours
during catastrophic
weather….
HAVE STOPPED !
.
Sigh. 
.
Hallelujah !
Hot chocolate
and buttered bread
all around !
.

.

.
.

The Prompt:

My name is Anna Elizabeth Graham
and I’m your host today for Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft.
I am asking you to experience what Coleridge called,
.
 ‘a sort of transfusion and transmission of my consciousness to identify myself with the object’.
.
Along these lines you may write a persona poem, an ode to an object, about the concept of negative capability or demonstrate it in other ways.
Use another’s language, world view, turn of phrase, or style.
.
And in the words of Mary Oliver,
.
‘I would rather see an ambitious though rough poem than a careful and tame poem’ so be brave and take some risks today.
………….
I am so clueless, but inspired by the other blogs I wrote that as I was heading get a good nights rest, I had an idea, and stopped in my tracks and wrote it before I forgot it.  Do not know if it is what the prompt expected, but I took Mary Oliver’s words and gave it my all.
=============================================
.

Blue Sparkles Goes
to the Hospital
.
I know I am loved.

She tells me every day.
But it is a constant worry
off to the junkyard
I go at a moment‘s
notice.
When I was ill,
she took care of me…
they said it was a rare
condition,
my pistons looked
like they’d been shot.
With two new transplants
I feel like new
and running smoooothe
as a new born, well
who wants to be that young
a second time.
I’ll go for mature adult !
She’s on a strict budget…
I worry…money’s tight.
Euthanasia.  Sigh.
.
She has a habit of falling
and I guess I take after her.
As soon as I’d recovered
from the shot pistons,
lo and behold,
I stumbled in a hole
and bent my rim…
Sigh.
I didn’t mean to do it,
but it’s Spring…
pot hole heaven
in Maine…
I worry, and worry.
What if the next time…
I get traded for a
younger model.
.
Mr Harmon’s boys
fixed me up with
a brand new rim…
they don’t make them
out of steel like they
used to.
She didn’t cry or yell
at me
or tell me “toodles,
Blue Sparkles”
like I feared.
THIS time.
.
Had a bit of a face lift
today, fancy new blades,
two in front and one in back,
winter ice and snow
are just as bad as the
heat in summer
lookin‘ perky again !
.
I live up to my name.
People admire me
as they walk or drive by…
they mention my beauty
and how I sparkle
in the sunlight…
between snow storms !
Spring has arrived,
and it’s time for new
adventures on the
Downeast Highway !
Yippee !
.
But will I get to go this year?
Money is tight and I’ve caused
so much grieve in such a short
time.
Will she  think I drink too much,
am prone to flying rocks…
I just missed seeing the Harmon
boys again…

Sigh.
Double sigh.
Can’t blame it on being SAD
(Seasonal
Affective Disorder ),
or
Depression any more.
Sigh.
I’ll try being good for a while
and count my blessings
while I can.
Sigh.

.
.

.

.

.