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No so long ago ...

6/22/2018

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Jules Henri Poincare, a French mathematician, theoretical physicist, engineer, and philosopher of science, is noted to have said, "Ideas rose in the clouds; I felt them collide until pairs interlocked, so to speak, making a stable combination."  I hear you, sir, as it is to with me.

I used to live in a semi-arid region where it rarely rained between May and November.  It was a vapid and dusty existence for this poet who literally feeds on inclement weather.  So much so that I was compelled to write my poem, Pluviophile, to express my earnest yearning for the rain.

At long last, unforeseen circumstances conspired together which compelled my family and I to move.  In answer to my unspoken prayers we now reside where clouds loom large, overcast skies abound, and where it rains more often than not … and I find myself in a poet’s paradise.

I say “unspoken” because I didn’t realize that I needed this, exactly this, until we got here.  We also didn’t know that we would require an all terrain vehicle when we purchased it before leaving those evenly paved city streets behind.  But here we are, blessed beyond blessed.

When my husband and I retired we immediately knew that we could no longer afford our beautiful, upscale apartment, or being surrounded by every possible convenience.  What could have been a tragic experience became an adventure as we felt ourselves being nudged along.

There is much to be said with going with the flow, which is also what I do when I’m writing.  As with Henri Poincare, I have the luxury of allowing thoughts, images, and ideas to flit and swoop loosely under my control as they aviate in the direction of the stormy sky beyond my windows.

And so I present to you my rather desperate longings of not so long ago:

Pluviophile

I pull the curtains back
From windows clear and wide
In earnest, hopeful stance
To search the open sky
For merest wisp of cloud
In arcing ever blue
Until I burst aloud,
”The rain is long past due!”

Where is that swollen scent
When seabirds fill the air
And moisture not yet spent
Is lurking everywhere.
Why do they stay away,
This season’s will defy?
Oh how I miss those days
When all the sky would cry.



​



Image: Janice T
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Could it be ... genetic memory...?

6/15/2018

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American poet and writer Margaret Walker, once said, “The poetry of a people comes from the deep recess of the unconscious, the irrational and the collective body of our ancestral memories.

When I was in my teens my mother opened up our old family Bible to a small piece of paper and a poem.  It had been written by one of our ancestors while crossing the plains in a covered wagon.

As I read it she remarked, “This looks a lot like what you’re writing.”  Indeed, its style and voice were very similar to my work at that time. I was rather stunned, but I also felt a deep kinship with that poet.

Back then, my mother wrote a weekly column for a local newspaper, as well as various news articles.  My own daughter, Emily Thompson, is the author of the Clockwork Twist adventure series.

Emily has also inherited the artistic talents of her father, and of his father, and of his father’s mother.  Not only has she written fifteen novels, to date, but she designs the covers for her books and of mine.

"In psychology, genetic memory is a memory present at birth that exists in the absence of sensory experience, and is incorporated into the genome over long spans of time."  Wikipedia

Who know what else was written into our DNA, but these observable effects are quite striking.  It tends to temper the ego knowing that one is, apparently, predestined to certain traits, and very  humbling.

Marcus Tullius Cicero, Roman politician, lawyer, and poet, born in 106 BC, is quoted to have said, “The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.”  Fairly morose, Cicero, but point taken.









Image: adriboschmagazine.wordpress.com
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Sometimes, just a little nudge will do ...

6/7/2018

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Being involved in poetry events is a great motivator for me, it turns out.  I sort of knew this, and when I recently stepped in as temporary moderator of a local poetry group I felt motivated once again.

I had been invited to emcee this group at its inauguration, but soon afterwards I had to lay low because of my hip surgery. And so, this creative group of poets continued on while I recuperated.

Somehow, I became aware that the moderators of this group would be elsewhere for the next several months leaving no one to moderate it.  Now, well on the mend, I volunteered to stand in for them.

Now, seemingly out of nowhere, I’m reviving old poems, composing new ones, and even working on my blog.  Huzzah! That wee bit of a nudge was all it took to launch me off and running.

About a week later I was invited to return to my author table during the upcoming local Art Walk, which would mark my third appearance at this a yearly event.  Fortunately, my books and I were available.

Emily Thompson, author of the Clockwork Twist adventure series, and I share that table from which we introduce ourselves, catch up with the locals who know us now, and sign and sell our books.

One such local had previously acquired our books and placed them in the high school library.  As we chatted before our table, he asked me if I would like to do a poetry presentation at the school.

My heart was screaming, “Yes, please!” though my reply to him was a tad less dramatic.  And so it seems to go in a cyclic fashion season by season, from languid idleness to creative involvement.       

H. Jackson Brown Jr, author of Life’s Little Instruction Book, is noted to have said, "Opportunity dances with those already on the dance floor."  Indeed so, Mr Brown! This poet is glad for the dance.








Image: dailymail.co.uk
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    Author

    I've written many poems over the years.  This blog is a preview of my books: Echoes, Neo-Victorian Poetry (April 2013), Echoes ll, More Neo-Victorian Poetry (May 2014), Echoes lll, Even More Neo-Victorian Poetry, (August 2016), A Compilation of Echoes. (September 2016), and When None Command (April 13, 2019)

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