Monday Music #7

I have a playlist on Amazon that I call Sweet Homes. Not all the songs are about Alabama, though, because I’ve had other homes. And I’m attached to some places that are or have been homes for my loved ones. Like Montana.

 

Wild Montana Skies

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The Vine That Ate the South

I first became aware of kudzu traveling the highways and byways of Georgia. It was a mystery to me; I just knew it grew like crazy and looked lovely. I even included it in a poem I wrote back in September of 2012; a play on Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken.

The Roads Taken

Two roads converged in a Georgia town

And seeing that both I could travel

At the light I looked around

Nothing there could make me frown

But my plan would soon unravel

Mapquest said there would be a turn

Trusting still I ventured on

Many were lessons I had to learn

Though blessed by views of kudzu and fern

I felt my path was lost and gone

Backtracked that morning more than twice

Turned around on roads of clay

The air still crisp and oh so nice

With music as my only vice

I saw how way leads on to way

I am now telling with a sigh

At last I made my destination

O’er valleys low and hills so high

Beneath a cloudless southern sky

I found a bit of relaxation

 

Two months ago, as I explored a new trail at Red Mountain in Birmingham, I came upon an area covered in kudzu. This was my first real close up and I discovered the blooms that are lovely.

 

 

Right after this I realized that it was overtaking the fence that runs across the back of our yard. Sitting outside this week I kept smelling a wonderful scent. I went to investigate and it was the kudzu blooms. They have the most wonderful aroma – correctly described by others as smelling like grape soda.

 

I did a little research and found out that many parts of the plant are edible. The leaves can be eaten like spinach and the blooms are used for jams. Bees frequent the blooms more during a drought and it is believed they are the reason for a rare purple honey. I may try a recipe one day; a few years ago after reading about dandelions I did eat them. Once.

Known as “the vine that ate the south”, kudzu can grow up to a foot a day. Originally meant to feed livestock and fight soil erosion, it has outgrown its initial usefulness. I’m sure there are many metaphors that can be made of kudzu. Here’s one: facebook is kind of like kudzu – it looks good and smells good, but it can choke out the the things it wraps it tendrils around. So take care – whack away at it when you have to!

A Walk in the Woods

w4

Moss Rock Preserve – 5/17/17

 

A Walk in the Woods

there in pieces of sunlight
through pieces of shadowlight
cardinal swoops down, takes flight
filtered memories alight
anchored by sound and by sight
lifted by a breeze so light
scamper of chittering squirrel
dreams unfurled are not finite

This poem was written in response to a Wednesday Prompt , pieces, by Robert Brewer, using the Cyrch a Chwta poem form. Cyrch a Chwta is a Welsh poetic form which involves both end rhyme and internal (or cross) rhymes.

You may also enjoy this “pieces” poem by Sarah Lea:  The First Mr. DeWinter .

 

The First of May and The Poet

The First of May 

 

So, the last day of PAD arrived with a prompt of “The _________”  . I went with the theme of the whole month. I love this poetic marathon every year; I just hope to keep at it. I hope to polish up a few poems and submit some for publication. Perhaps THIS will be the year!

cold bell

2017

 

The Poet

she breathes the air of yesterday
infused with memories sweet and clear
outside her window, falling rain transports her
to childhood afternoons
or to the coast of Ireland
or to a washed out hope

she dreams of possibilities and regrets
possibilities give her words that soar
regrets form melancholic stanzas
and so she writes
into the night
on tear-stained paper

she walks through days alone
gathering images and syllables
saving them in her pocket
hiding them in her heart
until they spill out
unrestrained and satisfying

deer

“Every time you feel in God’s creatures something pleasing and attractive, do not let your attention be arrested by them alone, but, passing them by, transfer your thought to God and say: ‘O my God, if thy creations are so full of beauty, delight and joy, how infinitely more full of beauty, delight and joy art Thou Thyself, Creator of all!” – Nicodemus of the Holy Mountain

I came across this quote in Ann Voskamp’s book, One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are.

There isn’t much I can add to this. I love going out with my camera and trying to capture “something pleasing and attractive”. I am grateful to God for allowing me this simple pleasure.

J is for Joy

I’ve loved ABC books and A-Z lists for quite a while. This post is one in a series on writing, with the subtopic of poetry.

Writers must find joy in writing, or why else would so many keep at it for so little pay? It’s because of the joy received while putting words on paper. Like a photographer, a writer looks at the small things as well as the big picture. From a little caterpillar to a wedding party to the Grand Canyon, there is beauty everywhere. The photographer will take the picture, then edit it, perhaps crop it, play with the light and colors a bit, to get the picture looking the best it can. So, too, a writer must work through many steps to produce a piece he is proud of. But, oh what joy when he steps back, smiles, and hits SEND. Or POST.  Or puts in in an envelope. Or just keeps it for himself.

Sometimes rejection may come, in the form of “This is not what we are looking for at this time.” That’s when joy comes into play. Happiness is fleeting, but joy has a deeper connotation. Of course, I’ll be happy when I get a check in the mail (or in paypal!), but my joy in writing is what keeps me going.

I could not find a particular type of poetry for J, but I tweaked a poem I wrote a year or so ago.

 

Baby J

Eyes of sapphire sprinkled heather

Like an ocean all together

On a  quiet breeze moments flee

~

Giggles delight like a feather

Cuddling warm and close together

Gentle breath tickles soft and sweet

~

Looking nigh and in the nether

Where the laughter runs together

On a  quiet breeze moments flee

~

She is like the true bell heather

In and out of sunset weather

Gentle breath tickles soft and sweet

baby J

Baby J – 2015