Some Words Mean So Much More

I've been thinking about this poem ever since I read it. To me, it speaks about so much more than baking bread. (Words like 'love', 'progression', and 'creation' come to my mind.) I love this woman's poetry, it speaks to my soul.

BAKING BREAD

There seemed more accusation

Than admiration

In Vivian's voice

When she said,

"Well, I wish I had time

To bake bread!"...

And so sometimes when

The loaves were in the oven

And Vivian was at the door

Louise mumbled something about

Another bake sale again

 

And never even tried to explain

Her near-religious ritual:
 

How the flour on her fingers

Was the sun and the rain

And the earth
 

How the thump of her palms

On the dough

Was the dance of women

On the ancient threshing floor

 

How the smell of baking

Leavened her

And left her believing that

We rise, we rise
 

And how the cutting

Of the first warm slice

For the first child home

Made her a bounteous goddess

With life in her hand.
 

(Pearson, Carol Lynn, "Baking Bread", Beginnings and Beyond, Springville: Cedar Fort, 2005. 77. Print)

Another Great Poem

A Time to Talk

By Robert Frost

When a friend calls to me from the road

And slows his horse to a meaning walk,

I do not stand still and look around

On all the hills I haven't hoed,

And shout from where I am, What is it?

No, not as there is a time to talk.

I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,

Blade-end up and five feet tall,

And plod: I go up to the stone wall

For a friendly visit.

This picture by Susan Wheeler seems to fit the poem so well:

To me, there's nothing better than a friend; especially one who will stop what they're doing and talk to me. I try not to interrupt them but when I do and they give me regard, their action says volumes and makes me feel special. I love people. I consider everyone my friend - whether or not we have differences. I'm thankful to have friends who travel the journey of life with me so I'm not alone.

A Great Poem

Good Timber

-by Douglas Malloch

The tree that never had to fight

For sun and sky and air and light,

But stood out in the open plain

And always got its share of rain,

Never became a forest king

But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man who never had to toil

To gain and farm his patch of soil,

Who never had to win his share

Of sun and sky and light and air,

Never became a manly man

But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow with ease:

The stronger wind, the stronger trees;

The further sky, the greater length;

The more the storm, the more the strength.

By sun and cold, by rain and snow,

In trees and men good timbers grow.

Where thickest lies the forest growth,

We find the patriarchs of both.

And they hold counsel with the stars

Whose broken branches show the scars

Of many winds and much of strife.

This is the common law of life.

My friend gave this poem to me in the 80's. I have since given copies to some other friends. To me, this poem speaks of strength. People are strong and sometimes they don't recognize their strength until they have to be strong. I think of those people like a limb that bends in the wind. It might get blown pretty hard, maybe even touch the ground, but it doesn't break -- it's pretty resilient!

What's On My Mind?

Today, my mind is filled with poetry - thoughts said in few words. Here's what I'm thinking:

My Work

The mason chisels stone 

The sculptor works with clay

I chisel and sculpt my words

Until I find what to say

I mold and scrape and work 

My words until they are just right

My unfinished work spurs me on

Even until late at night

The Definition of an Artist

When thinking of the word “artist”

Singing, and painting come to mind.

But an artist is someone who creates,

And art is undefined.

“I’m not creative” some might say

As they submit a spreadsheet sublime.

“I beg to differ” as they make

Their work to last a long, long time.

Fine art is held by photographers,

Dancers, sculptors and the like.

But don’t count yourself out of artistry,

Just because you can’t chisel with a spike.

All

The word “all” connects 

The widow’s mite with 

The first and great command.

It also connects service

To love

And to giving with an open hand.

“Hold back nothing
And receive everything”

Is the counsel we are told

I open my heart
And give all that I have

Because I want the blessings of old

Haiku Poetry Attempts

My email has been receiving one haiku poem per day for years (from Tinywords.com). According to my research online, American haiku's are 10-14 syllables long, and it seems like they could be related to nature or a thought. Japanese haiku's have 17 syllables, with the format of 5-7-5, and are related to nature in some way. A haiku has two topics which relate to each other (are juxtaposed), and are short enough to say in one breath.

Today, I wrote my own haiku's and here are my attempts:

Sharp pencil

My words are

To the point

MS Diagnosis

I walk

Like I'm Drunk

Conformity

When in Rome

Do like the Romans