Today's News

Ella's prompt today at Poets United's Thursday Think Tank is: The News. I just looked at my sister's newspaper and grabbed a selection of what popped out at me. We'll ignore  world issues, just this once:) I thought of using the haibun form for this prompt; a haibun combines prose and haiku. Instead of writing the prose, I decided to let the actual news items be the prose part. See what you think.

Bad news is filtered

through sunshine and birdsong.

Pilgrim, take heart.

Bad news is filtered

through sunshine and birdsong.

Pilgrim, watch the sky.

Bad news is filtered

through sunshine and birdsong.

Pilgrim, speak your truth.

Bad news is filtered

through sunshine and birdsong.

Pilgrim, hearts can heal.

[Man dies after falling into shredder]

Bad news is filtered

through sunshine and bird song.

Pilgrim, time is short.

Bad news is filtered

through sunshine and birdsong.

Pilgrim, trade your gun for roses .

Bad news is filtered

through sunshine and birdsong.

Pilgrim, cling to hope.

Bad news is filtered

through sunshine and birdsong.

Pilgrim, remain grateful.

Poet in Search of a Poem

google image

When life has worn you into

an unthinking shell

without words

and you sit, blinking into space,

in a place of No Thought,

tap the lifeline

of poetry

that lifts your heart

out of its everyday concerns,

into the realm

of midnight moons

and hungry ghosts.

Look up into the raven sky

and chart the silver moon goddess

as she trails mystery

like a gossamer cloak

across the heavens.

Remember that life

is more than bread and worry.

It is beauty and aliveness

and gilt-edged miracle.

It is the suspension of disbelief

and the belief in quiescence.

It is the lifting of one's eyes

above the "raveled sleeve of care"

to remember

music and poetry 

and love

and the silver shining sea,

forever ebbing and flowing

upon a shore lined

with old growth,

and fastening one's heart

and vision

and belief

firmly

upon that.

Eyes of the Universe

The Helix Nebula - The Eye of God

You and I

are the eyes of

the universe,

looking at

itself.

Deepak Chopra

Let us look

with kind

and gentle eyes

today.

Travel well,

fellow pilgrim.

Taylor Arm

Today we took all the dogs to Taylor Arm

for their first swim

of the season.

It's a tranquil spot, especially

this early in the year.

I love the look

of these old trees.

Jasmine becomes obsessed with possessing whatever

kong, or stick, is being thrown.

I have to remind her she is a golden retriever,

not a golden receiver.

The tussle over the stick goes on

until Lukey gives up and lets go.

Lori and the dogs played tag

among the trees.

Then home for a much-needed rest.

A Wish

My wish......????

that the sun

will come up

on all my

tomorrows,

and you will

still be

here.

Ellie's prompt at the Thursday Think Tank yesterday was: a wish. 

On the Road, 1976

Kerry's challenge at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads is to write an On the Road poem. Well, I have taken some road trips in my time, but this one took the cake. I will look for the photo tomorrow!


Compact yellow Pinto wagon
stuffed to the gills:
on the roof rack,
an English pram 
for the ten-day-old baby,
whose bassinette was wedged 
behind the back seat.
On the back seat,
the two boys, on either side
of the St Bernard puppy
who, by the end
of the trip,
was so big he took up 
most of the seat.


Behind the wheel,
the Baby Daddy,
in over-sized leather Mexican hat,
raring to hit the road,
Mama riding shotgun,
all the way down
Highway One,
zooming past
breathtaking Oregon beaches 
she so longed to stop at,
but he was in a hurry
to get......where??
It was all right out the window,
they were passing it by.
Through Monarch butterflies
in Northern California,
driving the L.A. freeway 
at two in the morning,
looping back and
stopping over at 
San Luis Obispo,
where they lived 
out of their car for a time.


Mama spreading mustard on bread
on the hood of the car,
or rolling up deli meat
in tortillas for the boys,
dog was too big for 
their current situation
which was, basically,
penniless,
trying to find 
a direction
for where to go 
next.


Turned out
it was the road
back to Canada,
Mama looking wistfully
at all the neat little houses
they were passing
all the way up,
laundry on the line,
men washing cars
in the driveways.
"Normal life
for normal people,"
Mama said wistfully.
She had had
enough adventure;
she longed for Normal,
him looking over
at her in warning, 
her voice falling silent.


Back home, soon enough
he had moved on.
With her baby and older kids
she started life anew,
one more time,
from scratch,
and Normal
had never
felt so good.

Small Miracles

google image

half of a baby-blue robin's egg

lying on my deck:

small miracle

baby green leaves and blossoms 

of yellow, pink and white,

everywhere sprouting:

Spring, dressed like a

pretty lady

Last night I stood on my deck, hoping to see a beloved wolf-face in a cloud passing in front of the moon. He didn't appear. But this morning, stepping out onto the same deck, I found half of a baby-blue robin's egg at my feet. I began to wonder: message from Pup? New life.

Those scrawny little baby birds have to peck their own way out of their shell. I reflected: that is sort of what we humans have to do through the course of our journey. We are born without shells, whole and perfect, acquire our shells and defenses over the course of being hurt by life's experience, then have to become brave enough to peck our way out of them and live as wholly as we started out. As in-the-moment and fully alive as those little baby birds, we finally learn to fly.