Image by Jacek Yerka, Between Heaven and Hell
I have always imagined God as a woman;
and though She is timeless,
She looks to be
in her middle-sixties.
I picture Her with
short, salt and pepper hair
and sparkling eyes –
not unlike my undergraduate adviser
who would throw back her head
and laugh a magnificent laugh if she knew.
(And so would God, because
I’m quite sure She has
an outstanding sense of humor.)
Though God does not wear tweed, like Dr. O.
In my mind She dresses in sunbeams, starlight,
clouds, hemp and linen.
And sensible shoes.
God did NOT create high heels.
And most assuredly God would have a cat in Her kitchen.
And rows and rows of pots and crocks and jars
filled with darkness and light and creeping things,
and baskets of stars,
and bushels of peaches,
and a huge stoppered bottle
full of annoying people,
and another with mosquitoes
and large bin of dinosaurs and sea monsters
all mixed up together.
Then She created the Earth and saw that it was good.
But She knew She could do better…
particularly if She went easier on
the obnoxious people and the mosquitoes;
so She keeps trying.
And in spite of Genesis,
I think God spends
every Sunday afternoon
cooking up new worlds.
So that’s where She can be found,
in Her wonderfully cluttered kitchen.
And by the way, you’re always welcome in
for a chat and a cuppa.’
Statues by Jason deCaires Taylor
Poets are not afraid to drown. -Janet Frame
From little on we are
rocked in cradles
pulled back and forth
by sun and moon
As we go deeper
we do not fear,
though we are ruined
we do not fear,
through countless days and nights
poets are not afraid to drown
We can’t always choose
spring rains quench, revive or drown
but drought is lifeless.
Take your chances with the sky
leave your umbrella behind.
A Tanka (lines with the following number of syllables: 5/7/5/7/7) for your reading pleasure.
“When I write, I’m the hero of my shit.”
“Heaven deliver us, what’s a poet? Something that can’t go to bed without making a song about it.” ― Dorothy L. Sayers
Today begins National Poetry Month, no fooling! It was started by the Academy of American Poets to help increase awareness of poetry in our very prosaic existence. Here is a link to thirty ways to celebrate poetry.
Another way to celebrate (if you like celebrations with lots of agony (no, not 50 shades of agony)) is to try writing a poem a day for the month of April. If you’re interested have a peek here: http://www.napowrimo.net/
And if you write a poem a day anyway, just because you are that creative and disciplined, you probably aren’t wasting time reading something like this; and by the way, I sort of hate you. Well, not really, not hate – I guess it’s more like envy. And that’s still not good, I know, but I”m working on it.
I’m going to do the NaPoWriMo poem a day challenge on another blog I have that’s not on WordPress. I’m feeling a bit panicked, because I haven’t been writing ahead with a week or two worth of poems on in reserve. In fact I haven’t even written today’s #1 poem yet. *gulp* But I will in a few minutes. If you’re interested you can have a peek here: http://writinginthebachs.blogspot.com/
And just because I can’t really talk about National Poetry Month without having a poem in the post I’ll include one that I wrote awhile back and still sort of like:
coral, shells, stones and bones
littered across memory’s beach.
air feeds fire.
We stir the cauldron and reflect.
Bury your treasure deep –
golden moments silvery seconds
no matter the lock
they will not keep.