Love is All Around You

Three hundred sixty-five days ago I set out on writing mission. Inspired by my friend Helen who was completing a 2015 daily blog, I decided it was a good way to commit myself to daily writing. I had been writing on several different blogs each with varied focus, but this was a chance to capture an entire year, one day at a time. I also resolved to look at life through a more positive lens, and thus the theme of love, and finding as much of it as possible, became part of my mission. Looking back on the year, I am convinced more than ever that love is truly all around us. We just need to look for it, and be open to receiving it. Love, peace, health and happiness to all in 2017.

Love is all around us

in the laughter of a child

in the comfort of a parent

in the warm touch of a lover

it is in the sunny blue sky

and the chirping birds

kindness from a stranger

learning something new

it is in the joy of a good book

and the lyrics of a new song

sweetness of fresh fruit

writing a poem

Love is all around us

in the birth of a child

in the holidays with family

in the blessing of true friendship

it is in the nuzzle of a pup

and the rustle of the leaves

yoga and meditation

crashing waves on the shore

it is the overcoming of fear

and the acceptance of great loss

change when it's for the best

letting go because you know you have to

Love is all around us

Love is all around us

2017- Haikus

This will be my year

my perspective is in check

I'm where I should be

trust, internal voice 

breathing in and breathing out

faith, higher power

creativity

writing, reading, exploring

true inspiration

Image retrieved from UNC School of Medicine

Creekside Observations

crackle and spark of a freshly ignited campfire

dribble and trickle of creek water 

in small rippling, graduating circles

a large tree, split into two separate trunks

reaching out in opposite directions 

one arching over the creek like a serpent's head

I wish I took a photo 

the kerplunk of a fish, or maybe a turtle

an A-shaped gateway for kayakers

formed by two tall and skinny trees

leaning into each other at a point

the perfect triangular vertex

the golfball-like domes barely peeking

above the surface of the creek, watching

canoers, kayakers, and perhaps most courageous

exposed, stand-up paddle boarders 

children laughing, running, bicycle riding

families, large and small

some celebrating with festive music

others talking quietly around the fire

a father and his two sons try their luck

with poles and bait and lure

while another man tosses a primitive line

with a hook and piece of bread

the former, hard on his luck

the latter dragging in his dinner

the day comes to an end slowly out here

every minute of lasting light, a chance

to take one more walk

to catch one more fish

to paddle one more time

and the night falls, and the fires burn

the aroma of dinners of all kinds 

are carried down creek with smoke

out here, dinner is served 

under the moon and the stars and the trees

calmness spreads with the departure of the mosquitos

the coolness in the air brings everyone close to the fire

chatter and marshmallow, cocoa and cake

long stretches of silence accompany the children

who have retired to their tents

while the grown-ups stare into the flames instead of screens

until the chatter is replaced with yawns 

deep inhalation of fresh air and heavy eyelids

send everyone off to bed

in a tent, on the dirt, under the stars

Come Camping

Come camping
where the blue herons tiptoe along the banks of the creek
exposed by the retreated water in the dry winter season
and the ganglion roots of the old cypress who stand above
drip down from the majestic trunks into the water
like dangling spaghetti strings
where the puffy white clouds in the powder blue sky
reflect down onto the water, a mirror image of the heavens
where the birds soar high above the shady canopy
and the nature lovers bask below in communion
to enjoy the gentle breezes around a toasty campfire
where campers delight in hot dogs, better than any at home
or in a ballpark, cooked outside over an open fire ring
where the glory of the sunrise and sunset
are gazed at through treetops instead of windows
where the living room floor is made of dirt
and the dining room always has a view

Rhyme

Why doesn't nature rhyme with mature or with stature
but mature rhymes with manure, and stature with catcher
why are there two l's in vanilla but only one in manila

this language is totally crazy

Why does muscle rhyme with hustle and tussle
and hassle rhyme with castle and facile
why are there d's in ladder but t's in flatter

try mastering this language as your second

Why doesn't waddle rhyme with saddle
but saddle rhymes with cattle and rattle
why are there so many words with multiple meanings

have I lost you yet, just wait

Why does bow rhyme with so and also with now
and fly rhymes with lie, and buy, and high
why are there three ways to say two (or to, or too)

I could go on and on, but I won't
I'm done (that rhymes with nun, not cone)

Today

Today

for all its appointments and duties

tasks and projects

for all its phone calls and meetings

emails and urgencies

for all its uncertainties and unknowns

today is a new day

with chances and opportunities

today, like everyday

is a day to start anew, 

start over, start fresh

to be the best day ever

What will you do with it?

Peace in Possibility

possibility

open mind and open heart

simply let it be

Neverendingness

Sadness washes over me like the tide pulls away from the shore
my time at the coast is always too short
sounds of seagulls and waves will turn
to cars and commotion
what is it about the sea
its vastness, it's blending shades
of blue and green
looking out I see neverendingness
quiet and calm
where the ocean meets the sky

Beachside Morning

To capture the sound of  beachside morning
is it the gently rolling tide, the occasional wave
crashing over a small jutting point of the shoreline
or is it the wind swirling around the twentieth sorry balcony
a plane flying overhead, travelers headed home from their holiday visit
I sit here enjoying the morning breeze and the daybreak sun
two days after an un-Thanksgiving
thankful for this time in solitude

It's Coming to Me

Procrastination or percolation
sometimes I can't tell the difference
It's like that word or phrase
on the tip of your tongue
It's an idea or concept
at the tip of your brain
You know what you're thinking
but it just will not surface
you can't write or type
you can't process out loud
so you wait
wait some more
wait a little longer
percolating
marinating
stewing
You wonder
Am I putting it off?
Or
Am
I
just
not
ready
yet?

Sick

My own version of "Sick," a take off on Shel Silverstein's poem by the same title.

Thank G-d there is no school today
thought an administrator named Laurie Jaye
I have the laundry and groceries too
There's just so much I have to do
Grade some papers, catch up on reading
Write my blog, prepare for a meeting
Baking bread, planning the week's meals
Early shopping for internet deals
Fixing lunches, packing to travel
So much to do and I'm about to unravel
My head is foggy, my stomach's not right
My nose is stuffed up, and my back is tight
I'm dragging ass and my energy is low
I am not getting sick, say it ain't so.
What's that? What's that you say?
This week there is a holiday?
Alright, I can stick it out three days.

A Friend Haiku

Just when you need it

A friend calls out of the blue

Chit-chat and sushi!

Making the Familiar Strange

One of the best workshops I attended during the SIWC, was a two-day poetry session with Nikole Brown.  The two days were spent on the concept of Ostranenie, a Russian word meaning to make strange.* It is this idea that to write poetry, we need to defamiliarize things and see them as strange. We need to notice things in ways we never did before, experience them like they are new to us. In addition to sharing all of her words of wisdom, she took us through an exercise I found to be helpful in my own writing. I shared it with a member of my writing group over lunch that day and she thought it would be a great lesson with her middle school language arts students. I have tried to outline the activity for presentation in a lesson, while simultaneously producing my piece of writing. Brown had us use the image of a mermaid. I wasn't thrilled because I didn't have any connection to or interest in mermaids. Admittedly, it was the perfect type of image for the activity. The "steps" outlined below are the instructions given to us at each phase of the activity. Have at it!

Photo Credit- Hannah Mermaid by David Pu'u. Retrieved from http://flippinyourfins.tumblr.com/post/23400002571/hannah-mermaid-by-david-puu

Step 1:
Write a brief, one sentence description of a mermaid. It might be helpful to say "concrete description." She later added to describe it to someone who has never seen one before and has no idea what it is.

We wrote and she asked quite a few people to share examples. While we shared, she wrote words on the board. They were all words we heard repeatedly in people's writing. I wrote:

A mermaid has the head and torso of a human with the bottom and tail of a fish.

Step 2: 
She asked us to write a description again, only this time we were not permitted to use any of the words she put on the board.

sea
tail
fish
half-human

We wrote again and she asked people to share. As people read aloud again, she continued to take more words down and add them to the "do not use" list. I wrote:

An underwater creature who's bottom half is scales and skin, and whose top half looks perfect in a clam shell bikini.

Step 3:
She asked us to write a third time. The descriptions started to become a little more elaborate as writers tried to avoid the forbidden words. In addition to the other words, now she added more.

hair
creature
ocean
fins


We wrote again and she asked people to share. She took down more words again! I wrote:

A swimmer with no legs, only scales and flesh below the belly, and whose top half looks perfect in a clam shell bikini.

Step 4:
She asked us to write one more time. Now the do-not use list included all the others and

sand
legs
scales
swim

(There may have been others, but I lost track at this point while I tried to write.)

Now the writing was getting descriptive. We were starting to see how taking away the familiar words and cliche descriptions, were yielding some detailed and poetic imagery.

It's not particularly masterful, but here is what I finished with:

She flows through her world like a ribbon in the wind, her body one with the waves. She propels herself using only her dolphin kick. Arms by her sides, she needs them only as she rises to the surface. The other aquatic beings marvel at her grace, and she rises to the surface posing deceitfully for boaters who see her as a Barbie in a clam shell bikini.

Though I was fully engaged and bought in, I struggled with this activity. I wrote an encouraging note to myself in my notebook to keep trying and stretch myself as I worked through the exercise. It was all about defamiliarization and creating images not from your head but from your body. The discomfort I had was because I was learning something new. I loved every minute of it. There is another concept Brown spent some time on, but rather than drop it here and announce a future post, I'll save it for another day. It's coming. Stay tuned...

In the meantime, have fun trying this on your own as a writer or with students in a classroom. Take an iconic thing or image and gradually remove the go-to words everyone uses to describe it. It works!



*When speaking about defamiliarization and Ostranenie, Nicole Brown referred to Charles Baxter and his book, Burning Down the House: Essays on Fiction.

Girl Crush

It was easy to do what she said,

look at things like you have never seen them before

because I had never seen her before.

I am married to a man,

never experimented 

or fantasized about a woman

and yet I was enchanted.

Her long and soft golden curly locks

like mine, only looser and more relaxed

fell wispy along her cheeks and down her back

into a purposely twisted, unclasped tie.

Her blue eyes, small swimming pools

framed by perfectly groomed eye brows

and lightly glossed lips, she looked 

midwestern more than southern.

A tiny little thing dressed in flow fashions

and platform shoes, she was adorned

with silver bangles and giant rings.

As beautiful as she appeared her tone

and her movement, and her way

were equally captivating.

A gentle quiet voice, soothing her listeners

into being more aware.

How could we not be?

The cadence in her words, 

in her movement.

I was aware.

She was poem.

Empty Backseat

One of the bright spots for me in today's "new" country music is the Zac Brown Band. I saw them in concert a couple of years ago, and they are one of the best live acts I've ever seen. True musicianship. ZBB came up on my iPod on the drive home from work today. "Free" was the perfect song to soundtrack the ride. The weather was spectacular and I pulled apart the jeep and rode home topless, as my co-workers like to joke. The opening line of the poem below, is a line from the song. It stuck with me and inspiration set in. Below, I posted the song for your listening pleasure.

We'll drive until the city lights dissolve into the country sky
just me and you, and an empty backseat.
We knew this day would eventually come. It feels like
forever ago and yesterday all at once.
The diapers and carseats turned into college applications
in merely the blink of an eye.  Hearts full of pride
and perhaps a faint ache, our three is back to two.
He is off becoming a man, and we are sailing
into the sunset, feeling young once again.

Morning Sky

I didn't capture it while I was driving to work
in a meditative state. Soothed by the
baby blues and pinks, I drove toward the sky.
The colors were not like the tacky
wall paint and cliche baby accessories.
No, the pink was soft and new,
pale like a newborn baby's cheeks
And the blue, it was faint and creamy
like the sheer skin of an infant.
Subtle and seamless,
they faded into one another.
It was a new sky, just days after
the new moon. The day was born
with the chance to start again.

What If You Slept

I'm a little embarrassed I even had the nerve to try and emulate Samuel Taylor Coleridge, but his poem came up in the Writer's Almanac daily post last Friday and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. It's so simple, but I love it. I wanted to give it a try.

What if you slept...
by Laurie J. Kemp

What if you slept
And what if
In your sleep
You dreamed
And what if
In your dream
You went to heaven
And there you had wings and soared with the birds
And what if
When you awoke
You had feathers in your hands
Ah, what then?

Open

Saturday in South Florida
fall is finally here
the weather we've been waiting for
Sunny and 75 as Joe Nichols sang

Azure sky, scarce white cottony clouds
shining, glimmering sun high above
a tickling cool breeze, crisp and fresh
pleasant relief from the long hot summer

I drive along in my open jeep
relaxed, music turned up high
hair blowing wildly and carelessly
my worries are few

Satisfied from a lovely lunch
catching up with a friend
talking about teaching and writing
I am refueled and ready

Rear end melting to the seat
the music seeping into my bones
sunshine toasting my skin
the wind blowing in my face

I have nowhere I want to be
except on the road to anywhere
no desire to stop
just a will to keep going

open jeep
open mind
open heart
open soul

What He Knows

Image from Pixabay.com

He is gentle, knows love and respect
his father loves unabashedly and completely
he knows only what he sees.

He still hugs his mom and dad
he says I love you each time he leaves the house
and each night before he goes to bed.

His heart is open, he is warm and kind
he is a loyal and forever friend
he is generous and forgiving.

He is everything you want him to be
he is sensitive and compassionate
adventurous and strong.

He will hold your hand and let you in close
he will be authentic and truthful
and share with you all that is important to him.

He will value your wit as much as your beauty
he will expect you to laugh with him
he has a lust for life and laughter.

He will make you feel special
and he'll tell you you are
remember please, he is special too.

Flautumn

Welcome autumn, I can feel you trying
the rains are tapering, the gulf breezes returning
it is wading season and our feathered friends have arrived
the wetlands are healthy, the standing water still high
birds delight in aquatic delectables, they prey
a small flock of Roseate Spoonbills
and a pair of Wood Storks take flight overhead,
a reminder we are guests
walk gingerly, quietly look and listen
whirring, buzzing, calling,
the swamp is alive with activity
in a small aquatic amphiptheater
a Little Blue Heron perches just above the water
posing for the men with telescopic lenses
around the arc, clicking draws eyes away
an Anhinga spreads his wings for sun and air
perhaps observers' attention
it works, we are captivated
our eyes are drawn away,
a large set of rings ripple through the water
again pulling us in another direction
a Florida Gar swims hurriedly
out of the open water into the swampy vegetation
along the boardwalk we look up in wonder
cypress trees hundreds of years old
entangled in strangler fig branches, coexisting
frogs, insects, and cypress knees,
we briefly look down again
until we are startled, wide-eyed
a Red-shouldered Hawk swoops through the canopy
landing on the branch above us,
his morning feast dangles from his mouth
he stops to eat, we stop to stare silently
we quietly walk below the branch, eyes fixed
approaching the wet prairie we are given farewell
a Pileated Woodpecker, loud and proud
dashing up and down a pine,
flashing his red head, he's on fire
high in the sky, haughtier than the Warblers
as autumn pushes in, the holiday has begun
the wildlife come to rejoice in their sanctuary.