Source: I’m a Bear, Barely There
Poems speak to one in many ways; rhythm, meaning, metaphor, reality. They can be soft and soothing, or hard and brutal, warm or cold, nurturing or ball busting.
Joss Burnel, an expat living and writing in Cuenca, Equador, has written many a poetic word.
One in particular caught my eye yesterday and moved my spirit.
Now I can explain about my Thursday evening meetings with my international group of three, in which every possible topic is discussed including what we are writing, and reading, and commenting on the world at large. We started as bloggers six or seven years ago, then emailing, and now using Skype world wide.
Me in South Western, Ontario, Canada, Joss in Cuenca, Equador, and Judith Baxter in Wellington, New Zealand.
I am the one in the white robe stoically fighting a cold. (and if you think it did not take a considerable degree of bravery to post such a photo, you would be wrong. I swear I do look better most days. Honest..) Judith is beside me and Joss above.
OH! Back to the poem. It perfectly reflects my thoughts this week and with Joss’ permission I present it to you now. (Highlighting is mine)
When you let go
of the fear,
the worry and
When you stop
and sorry train…
When you accept
that what is
done is done,
When you live
this day in
as the only
matters – that
When you allow
self to be
Then, the beauty
of today finds you
and brings you
Then your breath
to be deep
and to resonate
to relax and
let go of terror…
here is the truth
Then you know
that there is
life beyond the
worry and anxiety,
filled with beauty
and that, truly,
all is well
and grace beyond
~Joss Burnel / 2012
1.) List 10 things you wish you could say to strangers who share unsolicited advice about your parenting skills.
2.) Write a poem inspired by a picture you took last week. Share both!
3.) Create a bucket list of 50 things you want to do this summer (with or without the kids!)
4.) A country you would like to visit.
5.) What is something you could stand to learn from your significant other?
2) Write a poem inspired by a pic you took.
A quiet night two boys sleeping
When the clouds gathered
Then two boys weeping.
Thunder shook the walls around
And one voice calling
Gramma, GRAMMA! sounds.
I flew down the hall with a plan,
Banish these fears
Make fun if I can.
Two boys one bed shaking, forlorn,
Fingers in ears pressed
Yea! I love a storm!
Storms are great said I above the noise
The angels are bowling
Don’t you love it boys?
Not so much it seems so I stayed
Telling stories fun,
About nature made.
The source of fear caused a blister
Not easy to calm
The source was Twister.
We huddled twice at midnight and two
Uncertain smiles now
As the storm still brewed.
Finally the storm abated,
The children asleep,
And still I waited
And watched in wonder two wee boys
Whose only call rang
In the midst of noise
Ten Facts about Getting Published in The Age of Reason
Today we look at the proliferation of books around us and wonder if in fact we will lose them eventually to ebooks. The ‘book’ has been part of our lives for so long it is difficult to imagine a time when they did not exist, easily accessed by all, but like everything else in there had to be a beginning. The beginning for the common folk of England came much later than in some other countries and was not welcomed by some.
According to Will and Ariel Durant in The Age of Reason Begins, Barnaby Rich wrote in 1600,”One of the great diseases of this age is the multitude of books that doth so overcharge the world that it is not able to digest the abundance of idle matter that is every day hatched and brought into the world.” A few years later in 1628 Robert Burton wrote, “Already we shall have a vast chaos and confusion of books; we are oppressed with them, our eyes ache with reading, our fingers with turning.”
According to Durant both these men were authors. The aristocracy had been reading for ages but books and the resultant plays available to a common class who were learning to read was new.
So a few facts of interest:
1). There were 250 publishers in Elizabethan England
2). Publishers also did their own printing, publishing and book selling
3) Authors were paid 5 pounds for a book.
4). Registering a publication with the Stationers Company constituted copyright not for the author, but for the publisher.
5). A few authors managed to live by their pen but most did not.
6). There were severe restrictions on what could be written (while the Queen apparently supported free thought she was absolutely against free speech, and many suffered the punishment, which was execution.
7). Smart authors dedicated their books to people in the aristocracy who then became their patrons.
8). Translations were published from books of Greece, Rome, Italy and France and this influence inspired writers of the day including Shakespeare, Marlowe, Webster and many others.
9). Poetry progressed from rhyme to classic meters and the aristocrats who at one time scorned poetry delved into the art. Everyone became a poet, good or otherwise. A craze for sonnets developed.
10). Naturally the keepers of the Morals, largely The church and the Crown were incensed for plays and writings glamorized incest, homosexuality, whoring, and got more than a few pot shots in against authorities, church and Puritans.
Christopher Marlowe according to Durant says, “He made blank verse a flexible and powerful speech. He saved the Elizabethan stage from classicists and Puritans…..Through Marlowe, Kyd, Lodge, Greene and Peele the way had been opened; the form, structure, style, and material of the Elizabethan drama had been prepared. Shakespeare was not a miracle, he was a fulfillment.”
Pretty exciting stuff I say!
Books of the iPad
When I was a child I wanted to be a writer. Actually I knew I was going to be a writer. I remember the exact instant this information came to me, what the day was like, the actual smell of summer, my foot as it moved from the curb to the road. Strange isn’t it how there are some moments of such clarity that they are almost photographic, that for a millisecond you actually stand outside yourself and watch? It was not a decision as much as a done deal and I remember wondering exactly what I would write. Why murder mystery of course, published and all best sellers.
I have spent the fives decades between then and now making half baked attempts at writing and full baked excuses why I could not do it. And I must admit it has taken considerable effort to resist the urge to take pen in hand. Almost as much effort as it would be to actually give in and write something. No, that statement is wrong. I have tried writing and it is hard work, an investment, a commitment, and a lot of pressure on the brain cells.
Oh, I’d make a good start, and then the next day my mind would just flit after some other butterfly of a thought. And as of a few months ago, this year, 2011, I ran out of excuses, and had face the real reason I don’t write – fear, of so many things.
The purpose of explaining the above is not to lament my failure, but to recognize what it takes to write and write well. My experience makes me very appreciative of those who are published. When I read I can see the author putting down each word. I imagine the blank page and the first letters appearing whether by pen or keyboard. I appreciate. I savor.
Now we come to the Books of the iPad.
I love the convenience, the thousands of choices, the categories, and the authors, all there for my choosing.
What I find amazing and at the same time sad are the free books. It’s good for me but feels a little like a slap in the face to some great writers.
From the free list..just a few..
Tolstoy, Roosevelt, Lincoln, Einstein, Alcott, Austen, Bronte, Dickens, Conan Doyle, Emerson, Fitzgerald,….and on and on and on.
I picture the making of each word, phrase, sentence, and paragraph. The work, the creativity, the ALL of the whole thing.
So, I feel I just want to acknowledge them, somehow, to say thank you.
You, my heroes of the past may be free, but you are in no way devalued!
Thank you iBooks!
Those of you who know me well, know that I tend to look at things differently. For me Mothers Day is not a celebration of me, but a chance to honor my children! For without them, how could I possibly be such a super mommy? While I do not usually publish family pics, today is special so let me introduce my crew.
The love of a mother is beyond compare
One who dearly loves and is always there
From scraped knees
To falls from trees
A mother cares for all
From “I told you so”
To “That’s a no-no! ”
A mother answers the call
Mothers cook, mothers clean, some even work a job
Even with all their strength, a mother still knows how to sob
Mothers should be honored for all they have done
Every day of the year, not just one
There is nothing better than a mother’s love
For her time on this earth thank God above
A mother’s love endures forever
Its unbreakable bonds no on can sever
No matter how much I have grown
My mother’s love is always shown
She has become a mentor and a guide
Within her always I am able to confide
No better payment for her I can find
Then to love her with heart, and with mind
To the one who bore me; I share my emotion
To the one who raised me; Absolute devotion
To this woman I express my joy
You will always be my “mommy” and I your “baby boy”
“Glaedr the poet.”
So I celebrate my offspring and their chosen partners who by the way may officially be daughters in law, but in this family they are daughters!
It also gives me the perfect chance to show who I blame for my quirkiness, my wit, my insanity, my screwy humor, cause while they simply received the “crazy” gene, it is much more exacerbated in them, and it is very very very infectious!