At My Window

Looking out my window and seeing what I see. Shanyn asks us to do just that for a poetry prompt. After doing so, I could not help but be reminded of of a time several years ago when I looked out my window to be blessed with an owl.

Haibun

Owls keep their distance from mankind being ever vigilant of all around them. This day was different. This Eastern Screech Owl provided one of the loveliest sites ever seen through a window. Belying his natural instincts he lands upon a window sill with just a pain of glass between him and humanity. He remained there for some time allowing numerous photos to be taken before flying off for a new perch.

nestling amongst the leaves – offers protection to many

Shanyn at dVerse thank you for a thoughtful post that after looking out my window, reminded me of looking out my window and capturing this little guy.

Posted too at Poets United’s Sunday Poetry Pantry and dVerse

Treatise on Kabir

I rarely meet such an amazing poet that I reblog him or her. Yes, an amazing poem. But this is an amazing poet with an expansive heart, huge I might say. Worthy of reading.

So …..

I have not actually been technically hacked … nonetheless I feel as though I have been hacked, spammed, whatever. My private space has been invaded in an uninvited manner. As a result I am going to close this blog and develop a new blog. I will get in touch with you when it is done. I will use a pseudonym. If Thanksgiving comes first – may you have a very Happy Thanksgiving. Liz

Personal Armor

Today in the NYT Kathy Horn writes an article about Jacqueline Kennedy. Part way through the article she writes the following paragraph:

“That Mrs. Kennedy is so closely linked to an item of clothing is fitting. In nearly three years as first lady, she had gained universal celebrity for her youthful style. Politically, it meant huge crowds whenever she accompanied the president. But for Mrs. Kennedy, who felt vulnerable, fashion gave her a sense of separation from the public’s gaze. It was armor.”

Wow, I didn’t have to think about that for one moment to identify. First, the President’s assassination will forever mark my generation’s coming of age. There are tears today filling my eyes. My parents hated him, they hated her and all of the Kennedy’s. Can you say East Coast Republicans? Yeah very right wing in the classist sense. Today I still love them and in part it is because they represent my generation although they were of another. And I have long had much admiration for Jackie. She did much good within her lifetime. I am a big believer in philanthropy. My parents saw her as “one of those do gooders and the Kennedys as shantie Irish. What the hell does that mean? And then OMG I married a Jew. My family never met my in-laws. Of course I personaly know that all of that snobbism was just a coverup for agoraphobia. She was dominant in the family and he just followed suit.

I left this post and was going to come back to finish later. But I see that I hit the “Publish Button.” OMG! There is a comment … OK. the points that I wished to make were:

1. My mother and father were deeply affected by WWII. He served on the ground in Europe and she served in London during the Blitz while working for the OWI. They did not know each other at that time.

2. Armor – I totally relate to Jackie Kennedy’s use of clothing as armor! I have done this since I was a about 15 years of age.

Well … that’s it. Not too poetic here … except for the act itself of wearing clothing as armor.

American Sentences … All In A Days Work.

1. I have known Allen Ginsberg since 1962, how could I not have known about his sentences?

2. I am really a slob, it feeds my need to always be cleaning up.

3. I really love many of the people whom I have met in my poetry world here on the Internet … even though they appear to disappear into thin air.

4. Why do we call it down sizing, I am not building under ground?

5.The human heart … not the pump, but the one that reaches across the ethers and touches us so deeply … yes, love it.

Join me for a drink tonight … over at The Pub … dVerse where we shall all speak in sentences, though maybe not all American. They surely will all be poetic and human.

Home

I am currently engaged in a potential and unexpected move.  Downsizing was something that we thought about 10 years in the future.  However, I love my neighborhood.  There are very few down sizable properties (maybe 3).  And one just came on the market, around the corner.  So, that is why, I wax not poetic.  But, I am reading!  Oh yes, I see you but you may not see me for a bit.

Oh Boy!

Going away with my daughter for a few days! See you later.

U.N. World Peace Day

My exquisite and beautiful husband has long called me his “little warrior,” at war with the world. I suppose the worst place that I have spent way too much time at war is on the road with “stupid drivers.” I have no tolerance for stupidity. I have always received excellent job reviews. Then one year in the very best job that I ever held my boss let me know that I must tolerate the stupidity of others. Remember? My husband has long called me his little warrior – at war with all. Now it is all true, I have been at war with the world.

When you are five years old and a ten-year-old boy mashes your face in the snow each time you walk by his house (a necessary act) you are somewhat incline to fight back, as useless an act as that may be. But this act was greatly enhanced by my parents doing nothing to assist me but to tell me to stand on my own two feet. Life has been a big fight for me until I met David in 1977. Then I had someone in my own corner. I have always fought for my rights so to speak, and the rights of others. Please remember I am a woman of the sixties, the dawn of feminism, a time when women had to fight to “get” their rights. As an aging adult of nearly 67, my fighting days are over. The whole attitude of fighting with the world is pretty much gone. Thank goodness. This is in part due to the progress that we have made and in part due to my age.

I say these things because today is the UN World Peace Day. And I know that peace like anything else in this world must begin with me. It must begin with my own peaceful behavior before I can truly affect peace in the world. What I am speaking of are intentions. Intention holds a lot of sway with me. If I was an angry person at war with the world, more than likely I would not be able to to sit down today and either pray or meditate on world peace, something that I shall do. Are you a peaceful human being?

Haiku for peace:

wandering a while
my desire for peace grows
it is within let it out

Shared at dVerse

I wish to thank you ahead of time for your comment. I love reading them. I also love reading your work and commenting. But I honestly do not have time to respond to your comments. Hugs!

little girl

A few things.
1) I am no longer getting new posts from my WordPress friends. Bummer. I attempted without success to contact WP. I have no idea what I did yesterday in my “reader” but now I appear to be getting some posts. So that is better.
2) I read a most amazing poem by “Laurie” yesterday. It prompted me to come home (here) and write this – I hope that I have not plagiarized Laurie! Her poem can be found here and is for me, simply brilliant. It is called Rusty Tears. You know how a “poem” just speaks to you!
3) For those who have kindly inquired about me, when I don’t write it is generally because I am ill. I try to write twice a week.

my feet
getting smaller
winding
thru
the trees
my pathway
fed with
pine needles
pebbles
dirt
and broken
sticks

all of this
and I am
still
not sure
if I am really
here

i look up
to find myself
through the
canopy
to see
my face
in
the
clouds
but i cannot
see

while looking
i hear
the call of
raven

speaking

telling me
to walk on
and on
for i am
not in the
clouds
no
i will find
myself
a ways from
here

where
else i ask
can i
be

raven
replied
hop on
my back
i shall carry
you
all the way
out to sea

there
in the seaweed
there in
the bracken
in broken shells
and bubbly
water
in a tide
pool
i shall let you
down
gently
you will see
a time
when you
were only
seven

in that tide
pool
you shall see
yourself
young
trusting
innocent
willing
to just be

you trusted me
to take
you
on many
dreamlike trips
where
innocence
was
a way of
life
and all things
gave

delight

hop on my back
now
come with
me
to a time
and place
when you were
seven
in
the tide pool
a place of
warmth
and
little things

a place
where you
still will
be

i
will hover in the
background
watching
out
for you
always

Posted a wee bit late in Poetry Pantry

War Is

war fixes
nothing
but
the fat cat’s
wallet
as
it destroys
families
possibly
forever

war destroys
the
soul
of the
warrior
and
eventually
the souls
of the
families
of
warriors

another
way must
be found
other
ways
and
means exist
war is
deadly
war is
a pompous
conceit

destroying
the land
the homes
the food
sources
of the
people
the animals
devastated

war mames
the children
known as
colateral
damage
war destroys
the next
generation
making
the world
a crueler
place

war is the
epitome
of evil
saber-rattling
for the
uninitiated
who do
not
serve

who have
no bravery
but
send
them into
battle
all
the same
using soldiers
as chess
pieces
toys
in
their game
of losses

Posted at dVerse in the Poetry Pub for OpenLinkNight Tuesday