We're on a sand dune sloping toward the ocean,
our eyes reclining with the setting sun.
Gray silhouettes form shadows from the motion,
of palm trees, though the painting's not yet done.
The artist may yet choose to add some trouble,
a salty water-spray caused by a gale,
or driftwood pieces spread among the rubble,
with sea gulls huddled on a split-wood rail.
Perhaps he'll place a storm cloud in the distance
for contrast, (purple doused with midnight blue).
and make the faces of the couple listless
to hint of sadness that the summer's through.
Regardless of the painting or its weather,
their bare feet trace the drifting sand together.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Drift Wood Summer
Monday, September 14, 2009
Flu Away! Fresh Vegetable Juice
It's meatless Monday and I just finished a delicious healthy glass of what I call 'Flu-Away' fresh vegetable juice.
This is truly making a difference in my life. Nothing energizes me quite like fresh vegetable juice with a dash of Celtic Sea Salt.
When I drink this, I imagine sunlight coursing through my veins. The glory that radiates from our faces comes from the sun we drink!
I always start with a base of 4-5 medium tomatoes, then add the freshest ingredients I happen to have on hand, often what has
been picked from our garden that day. And never, never throw away broccoli stems - it's like throwing away gold.
Any combination of veggies will do - just do it! Make sure you have dark greens involved. You need an electric juicer, of course. I use a Juiceman brand.
Today I had freshly juiced:
5 Tomatoes
Large Bunch of Kale
1 Whole Carrot
2 Stalks Celery
1 large Green Pepper
2 Large Broccoli Stems
Fist full of fresh picked Green Beans
1/2 tsp Celtic Sea Salt
***I prefer this drink with one hot banana pepper, which we sometimes have handy in our garden.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
SENSUAL MUSIC
Dedicated to Margaret Menamin who passed away June 3, 2009
Where touch ends, its music plays on
like the light on a surface of water that bends
at first glance - then appears to be gone
where touch ends.
I have friends, though I'm often alone.
They’re like sail boats that sift on a lake of soft winds.
Touch reaches toward words whispered clear to the bone
that my hands may not grasp, though a yearning descends.
And loneliness – sometimes it sends
my needy heart searching for sun
where touch ends.
Anne Bryant-Hamon (Revised Feb – 2010)
Saturday, May 23, 2009
May Morning
Open wide as a market umbrella,
a white crape myrtle shades my front lawn,
newly pebbled with patches of yellow
dots of dandelions. Just after dawn
I awake to the sound of glad singing
breaking forth in a song without words.
There’s no need for a language; the meaning –
resonates from the joy of the birds.
To their open air concert I’m bringing
only bare feet and sleepy, green eyes,
and my coffee, of course, while I’m flinging
on a tee-shirt and blue jeans. I rise
up delighted by Spring-time this morning,
and deft beauty of nature’s adorning.
© '08
a white crape myrtle shades my front lawn,
newly pebbled with patches of yellow
dots of dandelions. Just after dawn
I awake to the sound of glad singing
breaking forth in a song without words.
There’s no need for a language; the meaning –
resonates from the joy of the birds.
To their open air concert I’m bringing
only bare feet and sleepy, green eyes,
and my coffee, of course, while I’m flinging
on a tee-shirt and blue jeans. I rise
up delighted by Spring-time this morning,
and deft beauty of nature’s adorning.
© '08
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Janet Waking - One of my favorite poems...
I love this poem. And not without a good cause. This morning a situation I was watching made me think of it again. I even considered writing a poem about how part of me would like to interrupt 'Janet's ' crisis, but as Peter learned, that is not the mind of Christ about the matter.
______________________________________________________________
Janet Waking
By John Crowe Ransom
Beautifully Janet slept
Till it was deeply morning. She woke then
And thought about her dainty-feathered hen,
To see how it had kept.
One kiss she gave her mother,
Only a small one gave she to her daddy
Who would have kissed each curl of his shining baby;
No kiss at all for her brother.
“Old Chucky, Old Chucky!” she cried,
Running on little pink feet upon the grass
To Chucky’s house, and listening. But alas,
Her Chucky had died.
It was a transmogrifying bee
Came droning down on Chucky’s old bald head
And sat and put the poison. It scarcely bled,
But how exceedingly
And purply did the knot
Swell with the venom and communicate
Its rigour! Now the poor comb stood up straight
But Chucky did not.
So there was Janet
Kneeling on the wet grass, crying her brown hen
(Translated far beyond the daughters of men)
To rise and walk upon it.
And weeping fast as she had breath
Janet implored us, “Wake her from her sleep!”
And would not be instructed in how deep
Was the forgetful kingdom of death.
_____________________________________________
“Janet Waking” is a metaphor for her initiation into knowledge of grief, loss, and the irreversibility of death. After a pleasant sleep, nothing seems amiss in Janet's world, but her true awakening begins when she decides to see how Chucky (a “dainty-feathered hen”) has “kept” (a colloquial expression referring to its well-being). As she pauses to give each parent a dutiful morning kiss, it is obvious that she usually gets her way. Next Janet runs “across the world upon the grass” to Chucky's house. In running from her home (where she is in control) to Chucky's house, she figuratively runs “across the world” because her world is about to be completely changed, as she moves from innocence to knowledge. (The speaker may also be punning with the Southern colloquialism of ’run across’ meaning ’inadvertently discover.’)
Janet discovers that “alas” Chucky has died. “Alas” both suggests the depth of her shock and loss and, by its very extravagance, creates a mock serious tone that undercuts and balances her grief. Chucky has died from a bee sting on its bald head. The “venom” (a term usually associated with evil) has caused a large purple knot on Chucky's head and rigor throughout the hen's body. The speaker observes that now Chucky's “poor comb” stands straight but Chucky does not. This flippant understatement seems intended to distance the speaker from Janet's emotions and remind the reader that a pet hen's death may not be taken very seriously by adults.
This initiation poem, which begins with literal sleep, ends with death (a sleep from which Chucky cannot be awakened). Janet attempts to “wake” Chucky, but the hen is “translated” beyond the reach of earthly power. Weeping so hard that her sobs seem inseparable from her breathing, Janet then turns to the adults, begging them to intervene. When they try to explain the concept of death, Janet simply rejects this idea that she is not ready to comprehend.
Bibliography
Brooks, Cleanth. “John Crowe Ransom: As I Remember Him.” American Scholar 58, no. 2 (Spring, 1989): 211-233.
Cowan, Louise. The Fugitive Group: A Literary History. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1959.
Howard, Maureen. “There Are Many Wonderful Owls in Gambier.” Yale Review 77 (Summer, 1988): 521-527.
Malvasi, Mark G. The Unregenerate South: The Agrarian Thought of John Crowe Ransom, Allen Tate, and Donald Davidson. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1997.
Modern American Poetry Web site. “John Crowe Ransom.” http://www.english.uiuc.edu/maps/poets/m_r/ransom/life.htm.
Quinlan, Kieran. John Crowe Ransom's Secular Faith. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1989.
Rubin, Louis D., Jr. “The Wary Fugitive: John Crowe Ransom.” Sewanee Review 82 (1974): 583-618.
Young, Thomas Daniel. Gentleman in a Dustcoat: A Biography of John Crowe Ransom. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1976.
______________________________________________________________
Janet Waking
By John Crowe Ransom
Beautifully Janet slept
Till it was deeply morning. She woke then
And thought about her dainty-feathered hen,
To see how it had kept.
One kiss she gave her mother,
Only a small one gave she to her daddy
Who would have kissed each curl of his shining baby;
No kiss at all for her brother.
“Old Chucky, Old Chucky!” she cried,
Running on little pink feet upon the grass
To Chucky’s house, and listening. But alas,
Her Chucky had died.
It was a transmogrifying bee
Came droning down on Chucky’s old bald head
And sat and put the poison. It scarcely bled,
But how exceedingly
And purply did the knot
Swell with the venom and communicate
Its rigour! Now the poor comb stood up straight
But Chucky did not.
So there was Janet
Kneeling on the wet grass, crying her brown hen
(Translated far beyond the daughters of men)
To rise and walk upon it.
And weeping fast as she had breath
Janet implored us, “Wake her from her sleep!”
And would not be instructed in how deep
Was the forgetful kingdom of death.
_____________________________________________
“Janet Waking” is a metaphor for her initiation into knowledge of grief, loss, and the irreversibility of death. After a pleasant sleep, nothing seems amiss in Janet's world, but her true awakening begins when she decides to see how Chucky (a “dainty-feathered hen”) has “kept” (a colloquial expression referring to its well-being). As she pauses to give each parent a dutiful morning kiss, it is obvious that she usually gets her way. Next Janet runs “across the world upon the grass” to Chucky's house. In running from her home (where she is in control) to Chucky's house, she figuratively runs “across the world” because her world is about to be completely changed, as she moves from innocence to knowledge. (The speaker may also be punning with the Southern colloquialism of ’run across’ meaning ’inadvertently discover.’)
Janet discovers that “alas” Chucky has died. “Alas” both suggests the depth of her shock and loss and, by its very extravagance, creates a mock serious tone that undercuts and balances her grief. Chucky has died from a bee sting on its bald head. The “venom” (a term usually associated with evil) has caused a large purple knot on Chucky's head and rigor throughout the hen's body. The speaker observes that now Chucky's “poor comb” stands straight but Chucky does not. This flippant understatement seems intended to distance the speaker from Janet's emotions and remind the reader that a pet hen's death may not be taken very seriously by adults.
This initiation poem, which begins with literal sleep, ends with death (a sleep from which Chucky cannot be awakened). Janet attempts to “wake” Chucky, but the hen is “translated” beyond the reach of earthly power. Weeping so hard that her sobs seem inseparable from her breathing, Janet then turns to the adults, begging them to intervene. When they try to explain the concept of death, Janet simply rejects this idea that she is not ready to comprehend.
Bibliography
Brooks, Cleanth. “John Crowe Ransom: As I Remember Him.” American Scholar 58, no. 2 (Spring, 1989): 211-233.
Cowan, Louise. The Fugitive Group: A Literary History. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1959.
Howard, Maureen. “There Are Many Wonderful Owls in Gambier.” Yale Review 77 (Summer, 1988): 521-527.
Malvasi, Mark G. The Unregenerate South: The Agrarian Thought of John Crowe Ransom, Allen Tate, and Donald Davidson. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1997.
Modern American Poetry Web site. “John Crowe Ransom.” http://www.english.uiuc.edu/maps/poets/m_r/ransom/life.htm.
Quinlan, Kieran. John Crowe Ransom's Secular Faith. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1989.
Rubin, Louis D., Jr. “The Wary Fugitive: John Crowe Ransom.” Sewanee Review 82 (1974): 583-618.
Young, Thomas Daniel. Gentleman in a Dustcoat: A Biography of John Crowe Ransom. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1976.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Passover - Easter Greetings
I figure I probably should post something at least once a month, otherwise, why keep a blog? The photo is a reminder that we are both alike and different than each other, but we all need love and friends. I have a few good friends. That is enough.
I have not been writing much poetry since late December when I was kicked off Eratosphere. And that's not a bad thing, actually. I'm paying more attention to 'real' people and other 'real-life' things and doing more in my house and garden. I did read CE Chaffin's poetry collection of poems "Unexpected Light', which I recommend as a good collection of free verse poems. I'd started reading it at the end of February and had planned to finish it then. But mom died on the 28th and that, along with some of my own physical ailments seems to have swallowed up the entire month of March. I am feeling a lot better than I did in February. The darkness appears to be deepening if one measures it by looking at the news; there has been an increase in violence and mass killings which is surely connected to the economic downturn. I do my best not to be troubled by the tossing sea. My biggest threat from my perspective is to be done in by a broken heart from being witness to such mass suffering and confusion. But it is not in my control, so I wait for God to bring everything to the light in due time. I wait. I wait for the Lord of all the earth, the God who gave me a spirit, a soul and a body. He will be faithful to all his Creation.
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