Poems

Crossed

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

pumpkins

Today’s prompt is to write a Wires poem:

Crossed
by Beth Weaver-Kreider

How has it come to this crossing,
this haunted house of mis-
understanding?

How have we crossed our wires
so wickedly, short-
circuited so utterly
our communication?

Our words don’t even mean
what they used to mean,
issuing from hearts mis-
construing, from minds
tangled like wires,
crossed like fingers
behind our backs.

Gratitude List:
1. Crescent moon caught in the leafy branches of the autumn sycamore
2. Those bright planets keeping her company
3. A murmuration of starlings wheeling in concert over the hollow
4. The old owl hooting in the bamboo grove
5. Vegetarian sausages so I can roast something over the fire, too

May we walk in Beauty!

An Imagined Life

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

mermaid1
Still playing with Dreamscope:  This time I took yesterday’s creation, and melded it with a selfie.

Today’s prompt is to write a poem about an imagined life.  Today for my class quiet moment, I read Joy Harjo’s Grace. I will let the pacing of that one inspire me–I am unable to break the dogma of shorter line lengths, but I am moved by the sense of the mythical in the mundane in Harjo’s poem.  (Here is a link to a photo of a Patagonian Cavy.)

An Imagined Life
by Beth Weaver-Kreider

In the middle of November in the year of the Patagonian Cavy,
we wandered the fields where Wind called our names, as if
we and Wind were on speaking terms, as if
we had not heard the voice of the wolf
in her growling, in the way she howled over the ridge.

Had we not listened to her wild, insistent portent,
we might have noticed the dirge in her sighing,
heard the omen in her singing,
the augury behind the siren song
that sent us whirling like ravens in her wake.

Perhaps the way would have been less worrisome,
less crowded with grief, had we listened
longer before leaving,
but wiser now we wander,
now that we have learned to sing her songs.

Gratitude List:
1. Setting goals
2. Striving
3. Imagination
4. All four of us playing Legos together
5. Leaves!

May we walk in Beauty!

If I’d Only

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / 4 Comments

fire-and-water
Fire and water–A photo I took of fire, melded with the Japanese wave painting. I feel like there’s a human portrait in there. . .

Today’s prompt is to write an “If I’d Only _________” poem.

If I’d Only Had More Time
by Beth Weaver-Kreider

If I’d only had more time
had more rhythm
had more passion
had more energy
more focus, more rhyme

If I’d only had more zeal
had more wisdom
had more hope
had more tenderness
more compassion, more appeal

If I’d only had more sass
had more impertinence
had more whoop
had more in-your-face
more fierce, more brass

If I’d only had more only
had more mostly
had more often
had more will
more do
less lonely

Gratitude List:
1. The moment when I crawl into bed in the evenings. The delicious feeling of being just about to fall asleep
2. The messages in dreams
3. Poetry prompts
4. The mix of leaves in the yard: poplar, oak, maple, sycamore, walnut, locust
5. Always beginning again

May we walk in Beauty!

Spirit Animal: Hyena

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hyena1

Today’s poetry prompt is to write a Spirit Animal Poem.  I have spent some time over the years thinking about my connections to certain animals. Hyena is only one of many in my meditations, but she is perhaps rarely spoken of as a spirit animal. It’s time she gets her due:

Hyena
by Beth Weaver-Kreider

Elusive as mist I slip
through the village
at midnight.

Eyes moon-bright,
I lope in the shadows
down the starry path
toward the river.

My night-song will wake you
with a tingle in your spine:
a bark, a laugh, a warning.

I defend your door from danger,
standing at the gates,
in the liminal spaces
between the village of your heart
and the river of your living.

Listen for the padding of my paws
in the darkness outside your window.
Watch for my shadow
to cross the moonlight
in your doorway.

Gratitude List:
1. The way a line of mist hung low over the River on our way home from school this afternoon.
2. Chocolate. I’m so glad the gods decided to share their food. I know dark chocolate is supposed to be the best, but I am really savoring Equal Exchange’s milk chocolate right now.
3. On All Souls Day, my blood ancestors, who put their lives and homes on the line for what they believed to be right.
4. The ancestors of this land where we live and walk and farm. The souls who hunted here, who traveled through, who may have lived on these hills.
5. The ones we’ve loved and lost, who’ve gone on before us.  May their memories bring comfort. May the stones of grief we carry turn light as bright and shining leaves.

May we walk in Beauty!

I Come, I Go

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floerstones
A quick trick rock stack.

For the month of November, I have decided to move my writing time to the time before bed. I will use my more wakeful mornings for the tasks of grading, use my more reflective evenings for writing and gratitude lists, and use the whole day to consider the poetry prompts at Robert Lee Brewer’s blog for the Writer’s Digest.

Today’s prompt is to write either a come or a go poem, or both.  Here’s my attempt, trying to get at some of the tension I feel when overwhelmed by lots of work, and unable to give the rest of my life the attention it requires. Composed in the shower.

I go, I come.
I’m gone, then home.

I’m home, My Dear!
Not there, not here.

My restless soul
is everywhere.

I try to rhyme.
The words won’t come.
There isn’t time.
My brain is numb.

I want to stay.
I want to roam.

I come, I’m gone.
I go, I’m home.

Gratitude List:
1. All the colors of the maples. The fires of autumn.
2. Shifting habits and rhythms and rituals. Changing it up to shake it up.
3. That sandalwood soap, so richly-scented and lathery and heartening.
4. Blessings. The real kind that people pass to each other.
5. Clear water from the spring, with lemon and lime.

May we walk in Beauty!

O Beautiful

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flutterby
Gathering the last of the summer’s pollen.

The sun rises over the purple mountains
and the amber grains are waving in the autumn morning mist.
Herds of buffalo roam across the grasslands
and a line of tanks and armored trucks
tops the rise like a robot snake,
vanguard of the black snake
that slithers beneath those spacious skies
toward the waters where the People pray and watch.

(This is a quick sketch, a draft. I have been wanting to work on a longer piece that weaves together bits and pieces of our songs and statements on liberty and freedom with the story of what is happening on the plains today in North Dakota. Perhaps that will come, too.)

Gratitude List:
1. The delightful performance of “Peter and the Starcatcher” last night. The wordplay is hilarious. The students were incredible, and really rose to the challenge of making the verbal jousting understandable.
2. Waking up to read with the kids this morning.
3. Fall sun and breezes.
4. The Water Protectors.
5. Truth tellers.

May we walk in Beauty!

Prayer and Rage

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imag2090

What can we give besides our prayers and rage?
And what will that avail?
Send out the story on October winds.
Fling it high, where crows are flying.
Send the message echoing into earth
with every pounding step you take.

Listen.
Let the shells of your ears gather the story.
Reel in the gossamer strands of the tale
and weave them into the veil you wear.
Listen for the stories of those who weep,
those who rage, those who only speak
with the shrug of a shoulder,
with a sigh, with a shudder.

Listen, too, to those who walk right in,
who step into your circle without invitation.
Listen to the voices that are hard to hear.
Offer only the bread that is yours to give.
Be like the old gods, with the raven Wisdom
on one shoulder and Memory on the other,
and Reason perched upon your hat.

Offer what is yours:
your rage,
your prayer,
your watchful quiet heart.

Gratitude List:
1. Rage and prayer
2. Memory and Wisdom
3. Reason
4. Listening deeply. Being listened to deeply.
5. Graphic novels. I know this one is rather out of the context of the others, but the boys and I are really into graphic novels these days: the Amulet series, Zita the Spacegirl, Knights of the Lunch Table, and Mouse Guard. We really love Zita and her poor friend Randy who has a case of the squeaks.

May we walk in Beauty!

I Am Not Alone and Hearts Glowing Fire

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

hildegard1
This is one of my favorite views of the ruins of Disibodenberg, the abbey where Hildegard was brought as a girl. I ran it through a Mosaic filter on the Dreamscope app.

This is a poem I wrote several years ago. I am in the process of deciding whether there’s an essential wisdom to the poem that warrants revision and inclusion in my next book. Meanwhile, Google Translate and I are having a little fun with it. The stanzas in parentheses happened after I sent them through several languages in Google Translate.

Now I realize
that I must fling myself
into the center of my life
with a fierce intensity
and passionate joy
or risk dissipation.

(I was the center of my life,
and the joy and the pride
or the threat of violence,
I know the voice cast.)

And all while holding the center,
embodying the nature of the tree.
This, too, helps to hold it all together.

(Always occupied the center of the tree.
In addition, all to get together.)

That still small place
cannot exist for me
without the passion that feeds it.
Nor can I maintain the fire
without the quiet and glowing core.

(A small part of this feed
is not available to me without passion.
I am not alone and hearts glowing fire.)

Somehow, “nor can I maintain the fire” became “I am not alone.” I wonder how I can draw parallels between such thoughts. The tense shifts in the first stanza open up some interesting connections, too. Everything has layers of meaning. Does my friend Google Translate help me to elucidate or obfuscate my deeper meanings?

Gratitude List:
1. A day of solitude.  The boys have gone to Diggerland for the day.
2. Coffee, socks, and a hat on a chilly day
3. My new fountain pen. The ink came yesterday, and I just want to write and write and write. I will use it for today’s grading. I am thinking of giving it a name: Kalamu, or Chemchemi, perhaps. (Pen and Fountain, respectively, in Kiswahili.)
4. Crows and blue jays. Messengers.
5. Toast and peanut butter.

May we walk in Beauty!

Keys to the Morning

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collab
Three years ago, inspired by some of the parent-child artistic collaborations I had seen on the internet, I asked my then 7yo to draw me a picture, and then I colored it. I think there were several that I did with both boys at that time. It might be time to do some more of these.

Here are the keys to the morning.
Here is the doorway to dawn.
Step reverently on the pathway,
until you reach the two trees at the top of the ridge,
the crumbling snag on your left,
the shivering beech on your right.
Step eastward between them,
eyes ever watchful,
heart ever open.

Gratitude List:
1. Warmth
2. Song
3. Family
4. Light
5. Memory

May we walk in Beauty!

Gained in Translation

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / 1 Comment

oct-words
Mockingbird Words: This is a word cloud of the words on this blog from the first week of October.

I am playing around with Google translate this Saturday morning. I translated a short poem of mine into Bengali and back again. The basic poem was pretty similar, but when we got back to English, giant feather had become hairy giants.  That’s extremely promising for a little bit of fun.  The sentence structure of the original poem was pretty straightforward, so the algorithms brought most of the poem back to at least a sense of the original, even when I sent it through several languages before coming back to English.

This is addicting.  I am going to try a poem that begins with a somewhat fractured sentence structure already, send it through several translations, and see what comes back.  Here is my original tanka, titled “Riddle”:

Down halls of dream, through
tattered veils of old stories
no fury, no fear
only the question of where
the next riddle will appear.

Zulu * Burmese * Haitian Creole * Portuguese * Maori * Japanese * and back to English again:

And, the bedroom
It covers the history of his face
Anger do not be afraid
Question
It displays the following password.

“It covers the history of his face” is a fascinating line. I still like my original line, but I wonder how it would go to say:

tattered veils of old stories
cover the history of her face

There’s some possibility there. As goofy as this exercise is, there’s a point here: I sometimes (often?) get caught in certain ways of saying things, stuck in linguistic and imagistic patterns. I worry that my poems sometimes begin to sound all the same. In Song of the Toad and the Mockingbird, I published several poems that were an attempt to break out of my own boxes. The results were several rather surreal poems that I am rather in love with, but which–in hindsight–I think might be somewhat unrelatable to anyone outside my own head.

Here, after some more play with translator, and re-crafting, is “Riddle,” no longer a tanka, and perhaps a little more layered, perhaps a little too clunky:

Down halls of dream,
through tattered curtains of old fairy tales
which cover the history of her face
without eyes, without fear–
only the question of where
the next riddle (this mystery)
will appear.

I was going to stop here, but then I took that last form and translated it into Cebuano and back again, and this marvel appeared:

Dream Hall,
By Tttered Krtens Old fairy tale
He covered his face HISTORY
Vithut Mata, Vithut Fiyr–
Questions included Ware
Next Ridley (Mystery)
The Makita.

Perhaps my next experiments should be to break down even the structure of the words, and play with invented spellings. Vithut for without has captured my imagination. And Mata. Is that eyes? Or matter? I need to simply force myself to stop now, or I’ll be doing this until noon.

Gratitude List:
1. Wordplay. Layers of meanings in words that shift and change color, dash away, and return with whole new meanings. Connections between words and meanings and languages.
2. Imagination. This boy, who is doing his spelling homework here on the floor beside me, suddenly yelled out, “Narwhal!” He had stuck his pencil between his toes (because that’s what you do) and caught the shadow of it on the floor. It did indeed look exactly like a narwhal.
3. Yesterday’s Service of Thanksgiving at my school. Music, speech and story, visuals. Generations. The Moment, for me, was when the choir was coming off the stage. I was one of the first ones off, so I got to watch as members of a composite choir of people of all ages filed into their rows. We all felt a sense of belonging to the choir because we had all been in some form of LMS choir throughout the years. It brought 75 years of time together into one moment.  Deeply moving.
4. Saturday morning sleeping in. I feel so rested and ready for the day.
5. Thermally satisfying weather.

May we walk in Beauty!