Beware of digging into things you should not. It never turns out well; the revelation will be painful, though predictable, and scar the guts deeply.
Answer: find the path forward—boldly, with full feathers and song.
Finding
Category: Poem
Vast Sea
Nothing more rewarding
than the rumors of hope
by the wonder of a vast sea,
An escape here,
and we shall be astonished by the beauty,
In a mind where I cannot stay.
From “The Infinite”
From “The Infinite”
So with my mind I encompass an eternity,
And the seasons die, and the present lives
In that sound. And in the middle of all that
Immensity, my thought drowns itself:
Sweet to me, to be shipwrecked in this sea.
—Giacamo Leopardi, translated by Richard Jackson
“Yet the lilac with mastering odor holds me”
Wait!
The lilacs are blooming!
It seems to early, but we had a mild winter.
I want time to stop. With the cherry tree blossoms just about to drop and the lilacs just opening, this phase of spring sings perfection.
In an American literature course a million years ago we read poetry. When we analyzed Whitman’s “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d,” we discussed the theme of grief and considered the pastoral elements in the poem.
What about the lilacs?
“Have you ever smelled lilacs?” Dr. Chianese, our professor, asked us.
Most of us had not. We were Los Angeles types moved by scent of jasmine and orange blossoms. We had no source of reference.
I now understand Dr. Chianese’s question, for the scent of a lilac is truly exquisite, ephemeral, and unique. The short space of time when Whitman contemplated the death of President Lincoln, and I rejoice in the rebirth of the garden.
Spring Poem
I don’t remember a time when the daffodils have bloomed this early, yet they are are blooming now on Orcas.
In honor of my favorite season, here’s a poem I wrote a couple of years ago.
Daffodils
Destiny
is when the muddy yard turns from the snap of winter
Green fingers push through, reaching with fat thumbs
of promised golden blossom.
How does the green know?
Like actors waiting in the wing for the cue
of sunlight cast on mud
the volume of birdsong crescendo
the fingers open
cups to hold
the first sleepy bees of the year.
REMINDERS about WEEKLY POEMS: If you decide to use my poem somewhere, please let me know, credit the author, and link it back to my website. Thank you!
Weekly Poem-11-18-15 Starling Murmation
I have many poems sitting around on my computer collecting dust. I decided to start sharing some of them. I am far from being a brilliant poet, but this seems like the right thing to do.
Starling Murmation
Patterns of pepper separate and swirl together
A vortex of wings,
Waves across the sky scatter and connect,
Over the cottonwood trees
Branches like shredded ribbons from the wind.
Silver leaves tarnished under clouded sky.
The birds merge and separate,
Twisted into a helix of wing and body.
Shifting of light and shadow,
The patterns illuminate something active
Controlled choreography
Not random or indifferent,
Patterns seeking connection.
Each bird responsible for a piece of twisted sky,
Perfect swarms of light.
(From November 2011)
This poem came about after seeing a bird murmation near Crescent Beach on Orcas Island.
REMINDERS about WEEKLY POEMS: If you decide to use my poem somewhere, please let me know, credit the author, and link it back to my website. Thank you!
Michèle Griskey 