Tag Archive | poetry

The Anthropocene Hymnal

The Anthropocene Hymnal: Songs of a self-defining era by [Ingrid Wilson]

I’m pleased to be part of Ingrid Wilson’s project, The Anthropocene Hymnal: Songs of a self-defining era, “A poetic response to the joint crises of climate change and biodiversity loss. Featuring the work of internationally-renowned and bestselling poets including Gabriela Marie Milton, Ivor Steven and Sherry Marr. Voices from five continents join in song to protest the damage we are doing to our only home, planet earth: these ‘songs of a self-defining era’ are the poems which comprise The Anthropocene Hymnal”.

Some of my poems are included, and that’s my collage on the cover.

Available on Amazon in both print and kindle versions, and read Ingrid’s post for information on obtaining a PDF copy. All profits will be donated to the WWF.

Serendipity (Thursday Doors and more)

some call the city a jungle,
tangled chaos–
but shapes
form
patterns—all those
untried
doors!
endless portals,
sprouting
more

I do like arched doors, and here are a few I saw on my travels around NYC last week. The one above and below were on opposite ends of the same block.

a close up

I’ve written a zeno poem for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday with synonyms for green and morass. We can now use any form from the poet’s collective list.

Here’s an arched side door next to some scaffolding, ubiquitous in Manhattan.

And some greenery and hydrangeas from the city parks–we are still getting a lot of rain.

My younger daughter used to play softball on this field in Central Park. It was a foggy day, and the fields were closed on account of being so wet. hence the red flag.

You can see more and join in here for Thursday Doors.

Galah Cockatoo (draw a bird day)

galah–
colorful clowns,
a loud mouthed gathering
of white crested coral–
life indwelling
wild, full

A Badger’s hexastitch for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday and Draw a Bird Day.

Galah cockatoos are native to Australia, where they live in large flocks on open grasslands feeding on seeds, berries and insects. But they also can be seen in urban settings, where their raucous calls and adaptations to human habitation are often considered nuisances. The word galah means fool or clown in the Aboriginal language of Yuwaalaraay and is used as such as a derogatory term in Australia (or so the internet tells me…any Australians reading this can confirm or deny)

Cockatoos are highly social and intelligent, and are bred and sold as pets. But these very traits make them not only very high maintenance, but possibly destructive and dangerous. I’ve written about this before–these animals should not be confined and separated from the flocks that are their natural social groups.

July 2021 with blue door

let yourself be
enchanted with each moment
as it appears

July makes me long for the ocean, so my grid is composed of ocean doors. But I also found a blue house door into the garden level of a brownstone that makes me think its owners are reminding themselves too every day of the sea.

You can join Thursday Doors here.

inheritance

hands threading needles
accumulating stitches
delicate like wings
flexible strong like branches
like rivers singing
ancient ancestral patterns
releasing through re
peating remembering re
vealing what was always there

seeds growing
anonymous roots
flowering

For Colleen’s #TankaTuesday prompt, a Chōka. Jules provided the theme of discovery.

I come from a family where all the women were textile artists of some sort–sewing, quilting, knitting, crocheting, embroidery–my grandmother even worked as a hat maker before she was married. My mother started me embroidering at a young age, and we did the bird kits, above, together. She loved the color red and cardinals, so that was hers; I stitched the blue bird. And I discovered how much I loved embroidery.

My mother never had the confidence to do her own designs, but always encouraged me in my own explorations. I think of her, and all the women in my family, every time I pick up a needle.

green park red doors

There is nothing else than now. There is neither yesterday, certainly, nor is there any tomorrow. How old must you be before you know that?
Ernest Hemingway (For Whom the Bell Tolls,1940)

cocooned in green light
I am nowhere but right here
dappled by these trees

Central Park right now is green, green, green.

Jade at dVerse asked us to choose one of the Hemingway quotes she provided and write a poem in response. I shortened the quote for my short response.

And because it’s Thursday, I’m including some firehouse doors from new and old neighborhoods. Firefighters are very much aware of the nowness of life.

Although I think you could make the case for doors in the Central Park photos as well…

Your can add your own doors and see many others at Thursday Doors.

June 2021

long green days
open like roses
like fresh dreams

fragrances whispered
into clear blue skies

That’s my hope for June anyway.

Memorial Day 2021

time passes
dust and bones haunting
echoed air

For Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #193, and in memory of all those who fought and died in all of the world’s many wars. May we one day have no need to ask anyone for such a sacrifice.

traverse (with Thursday Doors)

which side of the door welcomes?
which side retreats?
every opening carries a journey–
without or within?
the threshold faces both ways

Colleen’s #TankaTuesday theme of travel/journeys works well with my twin Thursday doors. I’ve written a gogyohka.

Join Thursday Doors here: https://nofacilities.com/2021/05/27/stately-springfield-doors/

cascade

falling
gravitating
sheer and continuous
sparkled currents rising
in reflection
flowing

A badger’s hexastitch for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday prompt, the photo by Trent McDonald, below.

Trent’s photo made me think of all of Sue Vincent’s photo prompts, and all the watercolor mandalas I painted in response to her images. Thanks, Trent, for the equally magical landscape.

This badger’s hexastitch has a very cinquain-like feel to me–not intentional, but I think it works.