One of my Favorite Posts: The Venerable Bede (re-posted from 2015)

[I am posting this poem which I wrote in 2015 as one of a series of I will call: Favorite Posts.]

The Venerable Bede

The Venerable Bede had a lot to read
in order to write the order and the
history of the medieval world.
He considered the matter of churches and cathedrals
and determined to add something new
in order to broaden the catalogues.

The Venerable Bede went out to the towns and the
countryside chatting with merchants and lords
searching for secular facts and bits of lore…
and made it known he was looking for more.
He went with his scribes, and trusty mules to carry the scrolls,
and collected History–words of men and their exploits.

The Venerable Bede explored the world
beyond the monastery walls.
He asked about roads and river boats
and the manners of insects and stars.
He sat with the old folks and shared a pint,
inquiring about all things, and morays, and techniques
and facts that were new…to him.
He wrote about travel and voyages, of builders and sailors,
of farmers…and of men who plyed the trades.

The Venerable Bede always took heed
of secular motive and deed.
He recognized the worth in History,
no matter how mundane.
But through it all, the main thing he learned…perhaps…
was the Source of it All remained with God
and he told his admirers who praised his work,
or detractors who disapproved:
God is the Author–only the scribe was the Venerable Bede.

 ©Sometimes, 2015

A haiku based on Eugi’s October 21 challenge word: “ghostly”

I am enjoying writing and posting weekly responses to word challenges proposed by EUGI’S CAUSERIE. Here is the URL so my readers can add your own contributions. Every week there is a new word. https://amanpan.com/2020/10/22/sharing-responses-to-eugis-weekly-prompt-ghostly-kittys-verses-the-bag-lady-anotherkatewilson-tinytotspoetry-z-z-poetry-joseph-r-mason/

Surreal patterns dance
propelled by ghostly
shadows on the win
d

( © Sometimes, 2020)

once there was a man who died…

Once there was a man who died
and no one knew what to do—
or even who would decide.

Mourners sighed
and wrung their hands, and cried—
“What a shame! Such a wasted life!”
and embarked on self-righteous lectures.

“Well I,” said God, with a nod
“… have no doubts—for it is I who decide—
and I say he shall ever sit by My side.”

“Where he remains for eternity
is not subject to debate and
conjecture.”

©Sometimes, 2020

Farewell the Muse

… and yet again with an oldie from “back in the day.”

SOMETIMES

I’ll never write another word
–ever– I think, maybe a bit longer.

The Muse has left me, alone and mute
singing quietly inside…but it isn’t writing
not bringing forth words of rhyme
or golden thoughts or phrases that soar
with the uplifting quality that speaks of fulfillment
of the annunciation of the soul
(if that is even the right word.)

What does that mean?   My Muse does not respond.
Silence echoes across the lines, across the fields,
rich and full, and absence of sensation…or character.
There is no solution, no evolution…no rhythmic flow
of syllables, or stanzas, flights of fancy…
clever ways to express a notion
…or just to form  a simple phrase–
no silver tinged sunsets,
no tales from the depths of despair…
no soaring ecstasy of the bliss of a kiss.
Words which once were at the edges of my
repertoire –within easy reach of the empty…

View original post 62 more words

Direct Line…reblogging myself again

Here is another of my early poems from back in the day (Oct. 2015 in this case…
Redundancy intended.)

Direct Line

The Moon, far away as it is bright
dims the brighter light of the stars
My eye sight follows the path of that light
passing the light-years between

Knowing full well the facts of the Moonlight
reflecting the light of the Sun,
it nevertheless leads me to imagine
that the Moon makes its own light from within.

Even if Galileo himself, who charted the Sun,
were to explain with patience and tact
I still would ignore him and blissfully say:
“Please don’t confuse me with facts.”

©Sometimes, 2015

Stranger than Fiction: again

This is one of my personal favorite assignments from writing class last year…in response to rules that the work be a limerick and contain certain other attributes of writing poetry.    I had great fun writing it—

THE DONALD’S MARCH TO INFAMY

There once was a boy named Donald
Who wanted to be rich, and grow up to be President
ha ha! said the people as he started to
stump
but he knew what he was doing and had all the cards he needed to
trump,
and win the game
opponents screamed like angry cat matrons
and picked on his hair and his noisy patrons
but Donald just said they should “lump it!”

“You haven’t a chance, you’re not one of us,” they wailed
“is that so?” said Donald as he placed a standing order for tea and crumpets
to serve to his fans to keep them from starving on the campaign trail
His crowd of the faithful grew and grew
’til they filled the land
so they bought him a very big trumpet.

© Sometimes, 2015

Why are we here? Why do we Blog?

 

Why Blog?

All it takes to write in a Blog
Is a Writer who is a Blogger
and a Reader who reads Blogs.

If someone is reading that Blog
–even if the blog is about nothing–
then all the components are there:

the Blogger blogs,
and the Reader reads.
And IF he is reading,
and she is blogging,
then there is a connection…
a piece of her mind
–for good or for bad–
is read and ingested
and taken to heart

.So what if the Post is about Nothing?

If its being read… someone is interested,
this is obvious right from the start.
The Key to blogging may be
not so much clever phrases
or figures of speech
as simply a communication.

So, if a blog is about Something
then it can’t be about Nothing.

What does that all mean?

If one is blogging…
well, they are blogging.
and if Reading?
Thank you for reading along!

©Sometimes, 2015

Welcome 2018! Pondering resolutions for the New Year…

 

ONE resolution: this year SOMETIMES (THE BLOG) will return to the my Top, #1, Main Pursuit…..every day.

Last year, 2017, was not my best year for writing and working on my blog.    Current events interfered with my goal, which was to put writing with a capital W at the top of my “things to do list.”      Oh sure, my postings were more or less regular, but heavy on the Re-blogs borrowed from other bloggers.

Also, over the year 2017  I posted a lot of my own posts from past years, and many photos gleaned from my hobby of photography, dear to my heart and fairly popular with followers.     The pursuit of bright flowers and trees, and the odd-ball occasional photo that inspired and illustrated the blog entries.       And Poetry…a newfound love thanks to WordPress courses which brought quite a number of acquaintances and blog-friends in trading our poetic masterpieces.    It was in these groups that I found the joys of writing Haiku, and other fancy poetic forms, and my favorite– “free-form” poetry.

So I pledge to follow my true love of writing into the Y2018.    Instead of whining and thinking up reasons why I can’t write, I will just DO it.     Just sit down and write.    Also, I spend a lot of time writing in notebooks….and on envelopes, scraps of newspaper, any handy source for writing on.

I’m already a day late with the “every day” pledge.   My post featuring Marilyn Monroe and Ella Fitzgerald…singing “Tropical Heatwave” should go a ways to redeem my lagging sagging New Year Resolutions.

So… see ya all on the blogosphere.   How’s that for “trite?”   🙂

 

The Art of Flirting, a Wordle from MLMM

It’s been awhile since I published one of my Wordle attempts.   MindLoveMiseryMenagerie regularly presents these Word-puzzles, in which a list of words is provided, to be crafted into a poem or other form of writing.     This Wordle is    #157.  (*see word list below.)

The Art of Flirting

We have reached a stalemate…you and I
in our playhouse of make-believe,
avoiding muse-thieves in cahoots vis-à-vis
in competition for cleverness … a turn of a phrase.

I bite my tongue in affected semaphorism
… a flicker of eyelashes with a knowing smile,
a hint of a shared secret, imaginary  interlude
“remember the willows…?” a tentative glance…

To know or not to know becomes the quest
we wonder: are we on the same page?
Do we deserve to solve the paradox
of saying nothing…while expressing it all?

©Sometimes, 2017

*Word list: bite, smooth, open, deserve, paradox, semaphorism, stalemate, tension, playhouse, Neptune, thieves.   (I was unable to work in two of the words: Neptune and tension, but did manage to incorporate the prerequisite ten words—including Semaphorism — a conversational hint of something personal to say; a half-told anecdote; one of those comments we slip into an otherwise unconnected conversation, such as an aside which has no apparent meaning other than between two specific people; a private joke.

 

 

 

desert echoes

            Echoes

hark! hear the rumble

across the desert;

my soul remembers

the great movement of stones

and great boulders

and simmering sand

mighty Saguaros loom

above tiny desert creatures,

gifting water and sun shade

a death rattle threatens

beware!  … fangs at the ready

— find another way

my soul remembers

from layers deep within

the baking sun at mid-day.

foot-prints soon cover

with impressionable sand…

but the desert remembers me

©Sometimes, 2017