A poem for your pocket | 4.30.20

A poem for your pocket | 4.30.20

It’s Poem in your Pocket Day and this poem is going in my pocket. I will carry it with me during the day. I will be thinking of the “heavy threads” of the day and hope that I will be stitched “into a useful garment”.

And yet, there is comfort in knowing the day “will do nothing of the kind”. Because even that is a blessing.

Heavy Threads

by Hazel Hall

When the dawn unfolds like a bolt of ribbon
Thrown through my window,
I know that hours of light
Are about to thrust themselves into me
Like omnivorous needles into listless cloth,
Threaded with the heavy colours of the sun.
They seem altogether too eager,
To embroider this thing of mine,
My Day,
Into the strict patterns of an altar cloth;
Or at least to stitch it into a useful garment.
But I know they will do nothing of the kind.
They will prick away,
And when they are through with it
It will look like the patch quilt my grandmother made
When she was learning to sew.

I hope you find a poem to carry with you today, one that will make you stop and think, one that will give you respite, one that will bring you joy.

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood from Pexels

Macro Monday | 4.27.20

Macro Monday | 4.27.20

Last week, I get up close and personal with my 100-Day Project. My goal is that this stitching will become a piece of art on my living room wall. I have taken my time on this project and I even spent some time learning about listening to that inner creative voice. Kym shared a link for a link to sign up for The Makerie’s first Playful Pause. I thoroughly enjoyed the hour I spent, but I especially loved listening to Melanie Falick read from her book, Making A Life. The bit she shared made me wish that my library was open! I really want to go pick up a copy of the book and settle in with it.

I spent time mentally blocking out my next steps and there was a day or two that I was unsure… so I paused and spent time thinking about what I was uncertain about. Mostly, it was *my uncertainty* in myself. (more on that tomorrow!)

But today, this poem speaks to me…to my heart.

Thank you, Hazel Hall for your simple, timeless words.

Happy Monday everyone!

Three on Thursday | 4.9.20

Three on Thursday | 4.9.20

I find myself remembering the days of the week by my “blog calendar” and have felt the need to spend more time here, which is not a bad thing. Today I am joining Carole and friends to share three things with you today.

Some years ago, Kym introduced me to National Poetry Month, which, I confess, I did not know existed. I did not read poetry. My maternal grandfather did though – he not only read poetry, he had so many poems memorized! My favorites that he would recite were Trees by Joyce Kilmer, and Fog by Carl Sandburg. I know these poems, but did not really “get” why poetry. That is until Kym. Today I am going to share three things that I hope will draw you into the lovely world of poetry. I have found great comfort in these uncertain and unsettled days in poetry.

Thing One:

I did not know about the Griffin Poetry Prize (there are International and Canadian Winners). The 2020 Shortlist was just announced. I have added several of these to my “poetry wish list.” They also share a poem of the week!

Thing Two:

I just finished reading Susan Stewart’s Columbarium, a lovely little tome of incredibly moving poems. I have read it through three times now and each time I discover something new. But, every time I have read this book Dark the Star has called to me.

Dark The Star
by Susan Stewart

Dark the star
deep in the well,
bright in the still
and moving water,
still as the night
circling above
the circle of stones
the darkness surrounds.
Dark the wish
made on the star,
a true wish made
on the water’s image.

There’s no technique in the grass.
There’s no technique in the rose.

Thing Three:

This is perhaps my favorite poem of all time. I discovered Derek Walcott via Kym’s blog. His poetry is the best discovery ever.

Love After Love
by Derek Walcott

The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.


Happy Thursday everyone!

 

 

Pin It on Pinterest